Where would we be?

I wish I could be mad with grief.  Every time I think of my 16-year-old son, though, I don’t feel anger.  When I think of the then 19-year-old that sold him drugs, I’m not angry.  When I think of the then 16-year-old friends that my son was with when they experimented with drugs, I don’t feel anger.  When I made my victim’s speech in court for the then 26-year-old man that made the drug that killed my son overnight, I do not feel anger.  I wonder what relief I might feel if I could feel anger.  Then I know there is no relief from losing a child.  The waves of effect go on and on.

Today the wave is my dead son’s now 19-year-old brother and his experiences in college as he realizes that his brother has been gone a long time now; 4 years long.  The same brother that when we first lost Sam told me that we would see Sam again; we just needed to be patient. Yes.  Grief wears at you.  It tears at you.  It rips you to shreds. Yes.  I wish I could be mad.  Yes.  I’m Sam’s mom.  I love him.  We always will. #muchlovetosam