Where Did you Go?

Losing a child is painful.  I  know this.

About a month and half ago, I had to admit my son to a mental health hospital.  I'm going to ditch all the vernacular and the jokes about asylums and straight jackets and what not, because right now, I'm not equipped to deal with it. People get cancer, they go to an oncologist.  They get burned, they get admitted to a burn unit.  They have mental health issues, they go to hospital that's made for that.  The end.

So, yes, I know he's breathing and well and taken care of.  But I stopped writing for over a month because I couldn't write about it.  When you take care of someone, night and day, for twelve years, and suddenly, they're gone, you mourn them.  It's just the way it is.  For a mother, this is so painful.  There are logically-minded people in my life who point out all the good things about what's happening, who chastise me for being "depressed", or who tell me it's not that bad.  But I've learned that those logically-minded people aren't that great at being understanding or supportive, so I don't listen to them so much.  You do get to a point where certain things, that matter so much, just don't matter anymore. Life is short, and maybe, lately, I've been more blunt than I would have been inclined to be in the past.

In the meantime, the sun still rises and sets.  That's enough for me.