That date, March 30, will be forever burned into my brain. It has been one year since I lost my precious son. In that time frame, I have become two people. I am the mother with a hole in my heart, a hole that will never be mended or repaired. I am the mother that walks aimlessly through what is left of my life, wailing that it is not fair that my son was taken from me. I am the woman that will never be truly happy again, the woman behind the mask.I am the mother that still thinks I could have done something, anything to prevent my son's death. I am the mother that will never forgive myself because I let him die. Aren't mother's supposed to be able to save their children? Why, then, am I writing this now?

Then there is the other me.

I am the woman that tries not to sweat the small stuff. I am the woman that talks to God every day, and thanks him for my blessings and my strife. I am the woman that appreciates life, and realizes how precious it truly is. I am the woman that has fond memories of my little boy that turned into a tall young man. I am the woman that knows my son is in the best place he can possibly be, in the hands of God. I am the woman that has learned valuable lessons, and is determined to live my life in such a manner that one day I will be able to join my son and my grandson in heaven. I am the woman that has been blessed with a relationship with God, and the woman that, for whatever reason, was chosen to walk the path that I am on. I am the woman that is determined to walk that path with my God beside me, letting him carry me when I need to be carried, and wanting to lead others to know his love.

I hope the day will come when the two people are melded into one, the time that the days of intense pain over the loss of my son and grandson is replaced with the total knowledge that they are the lucky ones, they got to go home with God. I am on my way, I just have to be patient with myself.

There are still days when I just want to lay down and die. Days when I want nothing more than to have one more day with my son. Days when the pain is so intense that it is not only an emotional pain, but a physical one as well. There are triggers everywere, places he used to work, go fishing, foods he used to like, clothes I want to buy for him, days when I reach for the phone to call him and tell him something, only to realize that I can't do that. There are times I so vividly remember the very last time I saw him, with tears pouring from his eyes, holding me so tight as he cried that he would never see me again, and wishing that I had just held on forever and never let him go. Moments like right now, when the tears are blurring my vision, and burning down my cheeks. But I have learned that I can let go, and let God. I know that as time passes on, pain eases. It never goes away, but it eases, and I know, I BELIEVE, that John is walking beside me, watching over me, and always will. John, I love you, I will miss you forever, but I will see you again. Until I get there, wait for me.........