Pardon my tears (Part Four)

The girls aren't long either. We all quietly cry as we go back to the car... There just are no words.

There are questions. Questions that will never be answered. And for that... I have regrets. Now, we just wait.

We still have my youngest with us and my two nephews...

We are at the circus... It's supposed to be a happy time. A happy place. Before noon, texts start exploding on our phones. It is done. He has been pronounced. For the sake of the little kids with us... we clap. We try to smile. I can't wait to get outside again, so I can wear sunglasses... The tools that allow me to cry and not be seen.

[Why is it when someone dies, people run to Facebook? Let the families have privacy... Since July 26th, I am rarely on any type of social media. I don't want people to ask me questions. I am tired of repeating the same thing. Telling the same thing. It hurts. It's one thing to see/have the people directly involved (i.e. the parents or siblings) say something, but for everyone (including those who didn't/don't know the whole story) to just start bombing the social media world with private things... wow. Everyone grieves in a different way. I get it. But... for those that just post. to get attention. Or to  be the first to spread say something. Just. Wow. I don't get it.]

Now that he's really gone, it rips through me. It's hard to contain my grief. But I keep trying.

We decide it's best for everyone in our little group to not do anything else after the circus and just return to Mom's.

It's a really sad time. Only sad... just doesn't begin to describe the intensity of the feelings I have. I am at a loss. Not only at a loss for words. A loss of mind. A loss of heart. A loss of space. A loss of time. A loss of everything I feel like I've ever known. I don't know how I should feel. What's "acceptable".

It was pushed upon him that "I" was not his mother. For years. No. I did not give birth to him. This is true. I loved him just the same. I love each of my children unconditionally. Equally.

So... to hell with it. It is ok for me to feel this huge emotional void within me. It swells with anger sometimes. It swells with pain. It beats with a rhythmic emptiness that pumps itself up to devour me. I cry in anguish. I cry alone.

And I know it couldn't be worse. But I am wrong.