I feel as if I’ve spent the majority of the last 12 months just angry. Angry at so many things. All out of my control. I know it gets me nowhere yet I can feel it under the surface. Bubbling.
It has been nearly a year since this COVID crap and being forced to give Asier back 6 weeks early. That was just the beginning. If only I’d of known where life would go. I was angry at the exchange program, the government, everyone. Then Zak moves out two weeks later. Anger and acceptance. Push it down. Carry on.
Kira got selfishly murdered 6 weeks later. If they wouldn’t have taken Asier back early I’d of been in her town that night. Would things have been different? Would we have hung out? Would she have been spared? Again SO MUCH ANGER. This anger hasn’t left. It’s dug in deep. Brutally. Painfully. There are good days and bad days. I miss her and damn it I’m so angry with how she left this world. It’s shitty. Awful. I hate him. I hate him for taking the cowards way out.
I’ve basically been full blown angry since that moment. 5/31/20. That is a long time.
Now fast forward – Brenda dies in December. Thanks COVID. I am not even sure I can feel death at this point. I’m sad. I’m angry. Yet, I’ve been angry and sad for so long. It hurts but it doesn’t compare to the anger for Kira.
Now we are to this week. The anger. The deep seeded anger that wants to escape. Zak’s accident. I’m still so angry. Like that moment brought it all to the surface. I felt it all. Every ounce of anger turned into hysterical sobs. Screaming. Psychotic anger. I continue to tell those closest to me that they probably don’t want to talk to me I’m sooooo angry. Each one responds with yes, I can see that. So Angry. I’m mad at the situation. I’m mad at the accident. I’m mad at Zak. I’m mad at the principal. I’m mad at my kid for not waking me up. I’m mad at my other kid for living here. I’m mad at the messes. I’m mad at how sad I am. I’m mad that these people just keep piling the shit on an already broken person.
Most of all – I’m angry I didn’t do more when my kids were little. I’m angry I didn’t fix Zak. I’m angry it’s came to this. I’m angry for his stupid genetic diagnosis. I’m angry that I know deep inside my heart some day I will bury my child. Whether he dies from the genetic cancer he’s guaranteed to get or whether he dies in some awful, preventable accident. My son WILL die before me. He will. I have no doubt. He’s proven this yet again. He takes these risks saying he’ll die someday so why not live the fullest. Why does that have to involve near death experiences? Why? He doesn’t care. He’s accepted his fate and is basically just speeding it up.
While I have spent the last week crying and so full of rage I’ve cried so hard acknowledging this fact. It’s a HARD painful pill to swallow. Hard. Nobody wants to lose their child. But you definitely don’t want to see it coming and feel helpless to stop it. 100% helpless.
I pray I died before him – Am I suicidal? No – Simply because I don’t want to move this pain to my parents or grandparents. But I can say a few days ago am accidental death to escape these thoughts and not stand by helplessly while my son destroys his life was a welcome thought. I don’t want to ever bury my son. To make these choices. Yet it’s inevitable.
So while I burst with anger I pray he wakes up and finds his way. I pray he can remain cancer free until he’s far older. I pray they have advances in medicine by then. I pray my worst nightmare never becomes a reality.
Yet, every morning since Wednesday I go to bed wondering if this really will be the night someone will wake me.