I wept

I went to see you today. I stood by your grave my fingers lightly tracing the etching of your face. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I silently stood there and wept. I wept. I wept for myself. For me who even after two years the mere mention of your name brings my heart to a stop and immediately my eyes overflow with tears. I wept for myself who misses you beyond words. Myself who feels like a piece of me is always dying. I breathe to live but only because I must. Some days to stop would be easier. I wept for myself who comes home to an empty house and closes the garage door before I get out so the neighbors won't see me sit in my car and weep. I enter the house which was once filled with laughter and warmth and now feels so empty and cold. I wept for my afternoon call as you drove home from work, your text at night that you love me, your body sprawled out on the furniture while you read, ate, drank, listened to music while watching tv. I wept for your laughter and hugs. I wept for your brothers who struggle with God and fairness. I wept for your brothers who go on but behind every smile is the sadness they can't shake because you are gone. I wept for their yearning to call you, to hug you, to share you with their children, to be by your side. I wept for the loneliness that invades them when they walk through the doors of this home. Yes, glad to be here but constantly searching around every corner for you to appear. I wept for your father. Your father who grieves so silently but yet so deep. Who when he thinks no one is looking with shoulders shaking so hard he can barely stand up will let down his guard and weep until he can weep no more. Who constantly watches over us all to keep us together and tries so hard to protect us from the harsh reality that you are no more. Your father who holds us and gently strokes our head and tells us whether he believes it or that it will be alright. I wept for your family of grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles and more who miss you and see you everywhere they turn. Who want, no need to connect to you. Who want just one more hug, one more smile, one more song. Their lives a little less colorful, a little less lively, a little less you. I wept for your friends who still mourn you every day, who love you so much they tattoo your name on their chest or face on their arm. Who still come to your grave and have a smoke or a drink to tell you how heavy is their pain. I wept for their loss, not knowing what to do, how to deal with a death far too young. I wept as I looked around at the many who have joined you. The numerous who have died lately at an age far too early. The senseless of yours and their deaths. I wept for their families whose grief is far too close. Then I wept for you. Who won't go old, who won't get married, who won't have children, who won't have a future here on earth. Then I stopped realizing the grieving stops here. It stays and penetrates our lives to the very core of each one of us. But I don't weep for you. You have moved to a place far beyond our comprehension. A place where there are no earthly demons, there is no addiction, there is no sadness. Just joy and hope and a future. No, my precious boy I wept for the body lying there in the cold ground. But for you my son, I rejoice. I rejoice in knowing that 18 years ago you came to me and said, "Mommy, I want to ask Jesus into my heart." I rejoice in knowing that day you were sealed with permanent marker, a child of God for eternity. No more sorrow. No, son. I wept for those of us left here that miss you so much. Who ache for your arms, your smile and laugh. I wept.