Dear friends

People don't know what to say, what to do. They don't know how to help. That's what I've been told. I know people want me to move on, to talk about something else. But really, what is there? My son is no longer alive. My son didn't want to live, was afraid to live, because of what had been done to him, and by people who were tasked to take care for him at that. So, no, I don't really have anything else to talk about. Except, sometimes I do. Sometimes I can talk about what is happening in the rest of the world, what is happening in the lives of friends, what is happening outside of my pain. Sometimes I run off at the mouth about work, friends' upcoming nuptials or new babies, movies, my favorite shows. But sometimes, I cannot. And I'm sorry, but I cannot pretend just so that others feel more comfortable around me. I cannot even pretend so that I feel more comfortable around me. Dear friends, I can be happy for you and sad for me at the same time. I can even be sad for you--it's ok, it won't make me sadder. Well, it might, but that's ok. I pray you never know this pain that I cannot shake, and I pray you can understand that I am doing the best that I can. There is no moving on. There's just...this weird sort of going on. Prayerfully.