Don’t like talking to specific people about certain things that I have in my mind. For one, it’s a really heavy weight to carry around these memories and telling someone else about them feels rude because now they know this really depressing shit. This is a better place because you can choose to listen or not and I won’t know the difference.
Anyway. I was driving today and started thinking about emotional trauma and being “broken”. Thinking about the subject just brought back memories of the summer my nephew passed away. It was summer of 2012 when he came home on hospice after a weekend stay in the hospital. I was looking after Luke, my other nephew, so that my sister and broth-in-law could spend as much time with Patrick as possible.
My mom and other sister, Amy, stayed with us for the four days it took for Patrick to pass. He was two. The subject of trauma brings these memories up because I feel broken. I’ve never considered myself “whole” in the first place, but after that week my heart broke. I watched a child’s life leave him while his parents wept and cursed god. I want to hold Patrick now more than anything.
It’s a bad night and I keep trying to remember his laugh, but it’s overshadowed by the sound crying.