Tonight on my ride home, I was distracted, so I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t wail.
Z. He’s in trouble. Sinking deeper every day. I don’t know how to help. He has no hope. No future. Nothing but pain.
He will not kill himself.
How to live this way? How to hang on until you have enough strength to make a change, but all of your strength is being used to hang on? I can’t do it for him. My ideas don’t help. I try to make sure that he knows I am not disappointed when he doesn’t do things that I suggest. I don’t expect him to. I am just looking for options, but we are not the same.
He is part of everything we breathe. He is destroying his brothers’ lives. It is a stopping place. They cannot stop here. There isn’t even a ledge to put your foot on. We try to be that one thing to hold onto, but it will never be enough. They have to let other people in.
I am home. I cannot help my boys. My incompetence as a parent has killed my Chris.
Then I remember to scream. Too late. I am home. T hears me. He wants to hug me, if I want one, but he can’t get to me, so I tell him there is nothing he can do. I say, “It’s Chris.” Then I don’t need to say anything else at all. Ever.
Now he knows, so I can cry. I don’t have to hide it.
I do try to scream into my pillow.
This is destroying Z.