2 weeks

Two weeks ago this evening our world was coming apart in front of our eyes. As we watched helpless to do anything to prevent or stop it, our son Chris passed away. About 2:30 or so he started having a hard time breathing, and by 6 we knew that he did not have much longer to be with us. We had his friends, and family with us, as well as two wonderful hospice nurses there, and all we could do was watch and hold his hand and try to comfort Chris in some small way. If you have never been with someone when they die it's a surreal thing to see. We knew it was happening, we knew we coudn't stop it, and I for one have never felt some hopeless in my life. It's so much harder when the person is your almost 19 year old son. As a parent I never expected to see my child die, and I know I never wanted to see it. But that was our lot. I have a million questions, why our son, why cancer, why anyones kid. A million questions and no answers. I don't expect to get the answers, but the questions remain. I think about Chris and the time he spent in the hospital when we couldn't be there and I am sad. I think about how scared he must have been when the doctors told him there was nothing they could do, and yet he was more concerned about the doctor and how hard it was for her to talk to patients about their lives coming to an end.
I will probably have to go back to work on Monday, and I know I'm not ready. The idea of having to talk to people, however well meaning they may be is not something I'm looking forward to. My boss is starting to put pressure on me to come back. I guess they figure two weeks of mourning for your son is enough. I think I will be mourning for the rest of my life. I don't ever see a day when the pain will not be so close to the surface that it will take almost nothing to make it break through the surface. A song, a sight, something someone says, the slightest thing and I know I will be falling apart. But I also know that after the fight Chris put up, if we don't go on with our lives we will be dishonering his memory, and he deserves better than that.
I would not wish this on anyone, not my worst enemy.