About

Beyond Space

I recall only bits and pieces from the beginning of this nightmare. Sometimes it seems more sensory memory than the actual events which happened. A snippet here of knowing it’s dark outside, therefore it must be night. It doesn’t feel warm or cool. The air is still, and it’s too quiet. The one thing that is always there sitting in the middle of my gut from that night is the dread.  My life changed forever when my child slipped away from this life. From that point on out until I die, everything will be different. Maybe tainted is a better word. The sun won’t shine with kind warmth the way it did, music won’t have the same depth, and the colors of the world would become dull, lacking substance or joy.

The night my son died, I believe if I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed the ripples of change around me. The fabric of my own space shredded as he slipped away. Somehow, I missed the subtle variance in intensity for which that change dug into my flesh. All while my son screamed for peace.  For me, that day didn’t feel different from any other day.

My child’s musings in a public forum caused no more concern for me than any other day. Deep inside I still believe I should have noticed something different. Had I gone to him, even if out of curiosity, maybe he would have remained with us a little longer. Had I begged him to stay, and he chose to, would he then suffer one day longer than he should? Or any longer than that I could watch?  Had I begged, perhaps it would only have postponed the inevitable. There’s really no way of knowing, and it changes nothing. My son is dead. He’s not coming back. I’ll never gaze into those star sapphire eyes again. That in itself breaks me.

My selfishness also begs the answers for questions I still ask 8 years later. Why didn’t he ask me to help him? I still blame myself for the inability to read between the lines. I thought his words were lyrics for a new song, even though he plainly stated in them the obvious, “his thoughts were hanging by a noose.”  I wish I’d understood he was screaming from the abyss. I wish I’d understood his agony that day, or any other day for that matter. I wish his pain would’ve spoken to me somehow. But no, nothing.

I share my story to perhaps help you on your own journey. Hopefully I can help you understand that you did nothing wrong and there was absolutely nothing you or anyone else could have done to save your child, sibling, spouse, girlfriend or boyfriend. We’re in this together, and together we become stronger.