Oh, Zane,
This is a letter I wish I could have written while you were alive. It would be so much more heartwarming to know you read it.
As your mom, I encourage ALL parents to write their children a letter and tell them how loved they are. Our love for our children never ends.
You may not be here walking on this Earth anymore, but my goodness, my love for you has not changed. If anything, it has grown stronger.
I had you physically for 16 years, nine months, 20 days, 12 hours, and 15 minutes. You were born by C-section on October 6th, 2000, at 5:05 am and took your own life on July 26th, 2017, at 5:20 pm.
Every moment was positively beautiful except the very last moment when I lost you. I can’t say anything nice about that. It hurts me so much. I have so many questions I want to ask you.
Not many moms can say this, but you were virtually a perfect child. Yes, I know the older you got as a teen, you did “things” that teenagers do. You experimented. You tried and liked it. You continued. Oh, I know most of it now because of the stories from your boys. But NONE of that matters to me, even though I knew about some of it while you were here. Teens will be teens, and moms should love them.
Speaking of your boys and the stories, man oh man. Zane, you boys are crazy. I am so happy to know you had fun while you were with us. Every story was cute, funny, and luckily legal! Most of the stories involved being at our house out in the country too. It warms my heart to know that our home was a safe house for you and your friends. Our home was their home, and they knew it.
The text from you I would always receive would be, “Hey mom, can I have one or two friends over this weekend?”. I would always reply, “Sure.” I ALWAYS knew one or two would turn into 8 to 12. It never failed. I suppose that would create more stories ?. I just appreciated you asking me, warning me to get enough groceries. Your boys know how to eat. FYI, they still do when they visit; dad tends to make chicken tacos for them, one of the favorites.
Do you know that since the Sunday before you died, I have not made your favorite dish? I can’t do it. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been asked to make it. Oh yeah, you know what it is – Chicken Spaghetti. Believe it or not, I mustered up the courage to make regular spaghetti for Zeagan’s birthday, and I’ve made chili dogs. I guarantee you it will be a while till the chicken spaghetti makes its way into my kitchen.
What I wanted to tell you was how much I miss you. My heart aches like glass shattering. Every morning is Groundhog Day. While the last two and half years have become less traumatizing, the pain has not lightened up. If I could have only talked to you before you left to tell you how much I love you. I do not know if that would have prevented you from leaving us, but maybe it would have given me some peace. I have very little peace now. Did you know how much I love you? You are my baby boy.
Zane, what could I have done to help you? Could I have even done anything? Who could have I called? When I saw you that morning going to the bathroom, could I have said more than “good morning”? You do know that was the last time I’ve ever said “good” morning, the mornings are not the same without you.
Sweet child, I miss you like the stars miss the morning sky. You were like no other, ask anyone who knew you. There is a reason we designed your monument as tremendous as we did. It was worth every penny. No mother should ever have to ‘purchase’ a headstone for their child, let alone visit every Sunday.
Until the day I die and am buried at your feet where your casket was signed by hundreds of friends and family that loved you, I will never stop thinking about you. Every morning and every night, you are loved.
With Every Ounce of Your Momma’s Love,
Mom
Please, if you are in any way having suicidal thoughts, call someone or the AFSP hotline.
1-800-273-8255 or
Text TALK to 741741
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