By Nancy Hiron
The Early Months
I am sitting in my chair watching television.
It’s been three months since Pete’s passing.
I keep expecting Pete to come around the edge of
The patio doors saying “joke!” with a big grin on his face.
This expectation stayed with me for at least 6 months.
Pete did not leave a note. How much I had wished for an “I love you Mom” note.
He would have been psychotic at the time and I knew that.
It is now five years since Pete’s passing.
I stopped searching for the note last year.
It is an impossible task being left to reconcile the suicide of your child.
I have devoted five years to reconciling Pete’s death.
I could have been a lawyer by now for all the arguments I’ve settled in my mind.
I have surfaced from these murky times,
Five years later,
A much more humane human being.
And I am alive.
And I have joy.
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