“I don’t know what it’s like to suffer like you did but I do know what it’s like to suffer for a long time.”
Ugh. Because losing a child to suicide is just a short-term suffering, right? Sometimes I still hear the dumbest things. I just smile and nod, smile and nod.
Year 8 without my boy is coming to an end. Am I still suffering? Yes, but it’s different than it used to be – at least on most days.
Then: I thought about him non-stop. It was like breathing. My thoughts were of how much pain he must’ve been in. I couldn’t get how he chose death out of my mind. I constantly wondered what I missed and what I did wrong. It was all consuming. Now: Drey’s still always on my mind but it’s because I miss him and I wonder what he’d be like as an adult, a husband, a dad.
I miss him. His laugh. His “Hey mom.” He had the same sense of humor as me… I just really frickin enjoyed being around my son. We shopped together. We went to Dairy Queen together. We played video games together. He texted me random pics without typing a thing… but I knew why he sent the pic and I’d respond inappropriately which was what he expected. He was my dude. I was right here Drey.
August 7th is probably the worst day of the year for me. Thinking about his last day alive is torture. I know what time he went to work. I know he hung out with friends at his dads afterwards. I know he drank too much beer all through the night. I know about his text conversations… both his calls for help and his goodbyes. I think I know the full timeline of those last hours of his life. He didn’t take his life until the morning of August 8th. That day is difficult to push through. But fuck. There was still time to save him on the 7th and reliving it every year sucks. I was right here Drey. I was right here and would’ve been there for you in an instant. You knew that! There’s no way you could’ve doubted that.
So for the next few days I’ll cry and hold tight to God, trusting my baby is safe in His arms. I love you Drey! And I can’t wait to see you again.