Around this time I was heavily medicated crying . My son was murdered. They still hadnt found Doug . Earlier that morning I held my lifeless sons body in my arms.his body was covered in a hospital blank and sheet, so I couldnt see his wound. A tube came from his chest to a bucket on the floor. Filling with his blood. I counted every toe every finger. I kissed him many many times. Held him tight. Crying nonstop. I could hear the nurses crying behind me. I ask to be alone with him. In a cold dark room I sat there . Looking at my son.Wishing he would wake up. That day I died with him. That day I changed . After his death. I have killed myself only to be brought back. I drank til I couldnt feel anything. I hated the world. To lose a child is the worst tragedy
Posted on: Sun, 14 Sep 2014 02:16:09 +0000
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