Dear Handsome,

My dearest son,

               Life is getting harder each day since you left. People keep telling me I should be okay, now or I will be okay soon, but I think life will never be okay for me again. I don't think I will ever feel "normal." And I'm pretty sure I'll never be the old me again. Losing you has changed me forever. It's changed my perspectives,  my relationships, and goals. It's changed the way I view the world, even the prettiest rainbow is now tainted with shades of grays and black.
           
              Your daddy always told me that the thing he loved the most about me was that I saw the world through the eyes of a child. I saw the magic in Christmas. I thrived on the romance of fairy tales. And I embraced everyday like a new beginning. I was optimistic and naive. But at the same time, your daddy, also said that my child like views of the world aggravated him. He said that it bothered him so, because he knew some day reality would slap me in the face, fairy tales would become fables, magic would become myth and he knew when that day came it would crush my spirit. And he hated to see it go.

                   I would remind him, with a smile on my face, that I was kidnapped at age four, that my father passed away when I was twelve and that I was a married to a military man. If those things couldn't break my spirit, nothing could.

                     Everyone keeps telling me that I should be okay by now. They tell me how I had months to mourn your pending death. I had weeks to cry and to come to terms with the fact that YES, my baby was going to die and I couldn't do anything to stop it. My friends, my family, they all constantly remind me that I KNEW you were going to die and that this shouldn't be such a shock for me.

                 But your daddy, he gets why I'm not okay. He understands that I didn't just lose you. I lost me. He gets that I never once thought I was going to lose you until you were gone, because he knows that I'm the person who sees the glass half full. I'm the twenty four year old woman who still believes in Santa Claus and I just knew that love could cure all things... But my love didn't cure you. My prayers didn't save you. My efforts and knowledge in medicine couldn't keep you alive. I may have heard the doctors say you didn't have long, but I trusted that you would be cured. And now I feel like I wasted time researching and fighting a DNR and fighting with doctors... time that I could have just spent with you, had I understood that the world isn't a fairy tale and we aren't always promised happy endings. Life is never guaranteed.

             Everything I believed it has been shattered. The cataclysm that was your death has ripped my world apart. I don't know who I am anymore and I just miss you so much.

             Heartache, I always thought was just being really sad, but ever since that bald headed skinny man walked me back into a room at the hospital and said "Unfortunately, your son, he didn't make it," I've learned what true heart ache is and it's the worst physical pain imaginable. My heart feels every second of every day like it's being squeezed by imaginary steel bars and my lungs feel small and full, making it hard sometimes to catch my breath.
             
                 You are gone. I now live in a world with no sunshine. I just want my sunshine back.