On the day that Wayne died my life changed. I became a mother without a child. I became a statistic, a number on a list of others whose children had taken their own lives.
I cannot say that I was a good mother. But I did and still do love with all my heart the beautiful little boy with copper colored hair that always had a hug for me. He had a heart that was bigger than he was. And he loved with every ounce of it. He was smart and caring and loved to play pratical jokes on everyone around him.
On the day that he died, I was worrying about Christmas and how we were going to be able to afford presents, and all of the other expenses that seem to come with the holidays. By the end of the day all of that was not important. For my baby was gone and I did not understand why.
I still don't understand why, and I never will in this life. But I know with all my heart that I will see him again one day after my job in this life is finished. There have been days that I wanted to end it all, the pain, the questions, the doubt. But I didn't mostly because I did not want to hurt those I will leave behind as much as I was hurt when Wayne left me.
I am scarred with the scars from a life of mistakes and bad choices and although Wayne's father was one of those mistakes, something beautiful came from it and for that I am forever grateful.
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