Socializing After Losing Your Son

It’s been almost 5 months. There were moments that I didn’t think I would make it this far. This story is actually from around a month ago but after I wrote it, it sat in my draft folder for all this time. I still want to share it, though.

My Night Out

I went out last night for the first time since we lost William. There were a couple low-key lunches with friends that involved me talking about depressing things. But, last night, my dear friend, Ray, was in town so I got all “dolled-up” and went to dinner with the intention of laughing and having a good time. I did have a good time but it lacked the breezy quality of before. I suppose most social events will, at least for now.

On My Way To Dinner

I remember the exact moment that it got hard. He had picked me up (yay for not having to drive!) and for approximately 2 blocks, we chatted about random stuff. But then I hit the wall and I didn’t know how to mask anymore. (I’m not sure why I’m so full of metaphors so far but bear with me.) Anyway, I felt exhausted and I knew the only thing I wanted to say is that I’m broken. But announcing such things really bring down the room (or in this case, the car) so I continued to try to fake it.

I really was very happy to be heading to dinner with my friend who I adore so the struggle was worth it. But it was a struggle.

Dinner Time

When we got there, we were joined by a mutual friend. It was a pleasant dinner. We talked about pleasant things. But I was barely keeping it together. It didn’t help when I realized that the last time I had been there was for my graduation dinner and William came along.

Halfway through, Ray showed me a picture that had popped up in his phone memories. It was of William, Antwan, Lizzie and his son when they were all younger. It was at the beach and they were smiling big as they posed in the sand. I could no longer keep it together. I cried a bit but then I pretended that I was fine.

I wasn’t fine.

Letting It Out

The evening ended and Ray dropped me off. By the time that I got upstairs to our room, I was bawling. Brian jumped up and was asked what happened. Between my sobs, I said “I miss William.” There were no follow-up questions, he understood.

I know that I can’t hide from the world forever. But I knew then that I would be hiding from it a little longer.

(Since then, I have managed to go out once and actually have a good time. It took A LOT to make myself go and I was so glad that I did. There is hope for me yet. Wine also helps…)

The Grief Just Doesn’t Stop

This grief thing, I don’t know what to do with it. It’s my nature to look for the bright side and to try not to stay down too long. But this is not the kind of thing that has a bright side and why wouldn’t I didn’t stay down long? My son is dead. And he’s going to stay dead. I hate that.

When I close my eyes at night, I see him. I see him like I found him that morning. Most of the time, I can block that out and visualize much better images of him in my head. But, in the quiet moments, he is there. In a way that he never should have been. (My son‘s suicide)

I’m consumed with regret. I know that I failed him and I wish I had been able to help him. And now I can’t even try to fix it. I can only hope that he was happy more than he was sad. Just like I hope that one day, we will be happy more than we are sad.

Well, this was supposed to be a post about my night out but lucky you, I decided to keep going and to really drive my point home.

I want my son back!

I don’t want to be a mom with one child who is dead. I don’t want to hesitate when people ask me how many kids I have because I don’t know how to answer. i just don’t want to do this.

They say that all problems are temporary. But this problem is horribly permanent.