Cara gave me this diary today. She thinks it will help me to process what has happened and grieve in a more healthy way. I guess I’ve been making her a little nervous lately, what with all the crying and locking myself in my room for days on end. It’s just too hard to get out of bed and face the world most days. Even when I do find the strength to get up, it’s usually just to go to the bathroom or get a snack from the kitchen. I bring it up to my room, lay down in bed, and the snack usually ends up sitting on the nightstand for hours, untouched. I promised her I would try, though. Try to move on and try to pull myself out of this deep, dark depression…so here goes.
I can’t believe it’s been a week since the death of my son. It still doesn’t feel real to me. I keep thinking I’m going to walk by his room and see him playing in there. Sometimes, when I’m lying in my bed in the middle of the night trying to fall asleep, I think I can hear him moving around and laughing in his room. Sometimes I forget what happened and I get up to tell him to go back to bed…when I get to the room and it’s empty, it all hits me again. I can’t help but break down at the sight of him empty, quiet room. I don’t know if the pain I feel will ever go away. His sweet, little face is so fresh in my mind that I can actually feel him all around me still.
I wish I could write about what happened that night…when Danny was taken from me. I want to get it all out and release the horror that keeps playing over and over in my mind. I can’t bring myself to do it, though. I can’t form the words or put them to paper just yet. I don’t know that I’ll ever want to look back in this diary and relive what I saw. I don’t know that I’ll ever look back on these words again once I’ve written them down. Right now, at this moment, it feels like I’ll never be able to move on. Even though I was right there, right in the room when it happened, I still don’t really know what happened. It was more like a nightmare than reality. What I saw couldn’t have been real. It was too awful. It wasn’t human.
Now I sound crazy, but if I’m going to sound crazy then atleast it’s only to myself in this journal. I still haven’t told Cara what I saw that night. She’s my best friend and I usually tell her everything, but I can’t tell her this. She’ll think I’ve gone insane with grief. She’ll have me committed…maybe I SHOULD be committed. There’s no way I really saw what I think I saw. It’s probably just my brain scrambling everything and replacing the real memory with a new one as a coping mechanism or something. I don’t know. All I know is I will never be the same and most days I don’t even want to go on without my son.
Danny was my everything. How does someone move on after losing someone like that?