I'm so sick with pain and anger.
We took K to Target this evening to spend the birthday money he got. I went inside first for a restroom break and when they weren't inside when I got out of the restroom my heart sank, they weren't there. The last time this happened Bram was dead. One of them must have been run over, one of them is dead. Again! I started running outside only to find them (thankfully) safe together, and fine. I couldn't stop the feelings of dread. I wasn't able to recover before T began a tantrum because he wasn't getting a toy despite the fact K offered to buy him something with the rest of his birthday money.
I come home and see my dead tree, and my dead poinsettias, and my husband struggling, and my kids struggling, and it's too much! I am so done, and I am so angry.
I took the tree down and threw it in the back yard. I want to quit christmas and crawl in a ball and not crawl out until the world ends. But I can't, as much as my heart and my hurt makes it impossible to move forward, my children force me. I'm not the mother they deserve right now. I'm less than. I'm not equipped to carry on when my spine's been ripped from my body.
I'm so sick with pain and anger. I'm so angry, so angry. My son is not worthy of justice. His death isn't even worth a moving violation. The events that have unfolded across the globe and the deaths of so many children, and the thoughts of so many parents falling into this oblivion, and knowing that if there could be justice served for them there would be. But the person that killed their children took his life, so justice on earth will not happen. My son's killer gets to walk free, get to breathe a sigh of relief, gets to go on with their life, gets to forget.
I want to live for Bram but today I hold no hope, today I don't have it in me.