The Vault: Part 1

It’s nearly impossible to write about this which is why I’ve placed it in The Vault, [My Vault] a large underground chamber [of secrets] used for storage. It’s where I keep my darkest pain.

But This—the loss of my son, I can’t keep there anymore. He was too beautiful a soul; he deserves to be known. No, he didn’t “pass away” in the traditional sense [though that might have been easier] but he did die shortly after his eighteenth birthday. If I had known I would only have eighteen years would I have done anything differently? No. Except to beg for more time.

When he left my life suddenly, I didn’t experience the five stages of grief, I bypassed all of them and went straight to depression, deep fog dense depression, waking up most nights, heart racing, tears streaming down my face until one night a tiny voice whispered:

Repeat after me: he was loved. He was loved. He was so loved. Amen.

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