We all grieve differently, yet however we choose to grieve is right for us. My grief was silent and excruciatingly painful. Getting out of bed was the hardest to do. I would lay in bed quietly praying, as tears streamed down my face,"Lord, Just help me put one foot in front of the other." My body ached and my skin hurt to be touched; yet I smiled. To my family and others, I was strong and coping remarkably well. The reality was that I was fighting to remain sane. You expect to bury a parent but never expect to bury a child. That's not in the order of the life cycle we have all come to expect. There is a silent scream deep within your soul that no one can hear but yourself. The scream that remains deep inside your throat, forever threatening to escape. A pain so intense that your soul burns as your mind constantly flashes back to past memories of your beloved child living life, as he still should. The pain never ends although it dulls with time. With time the pain settles somewhere deep within, finding a nest for life. The nestled pain hibernates until a memory, a song or a piece of clothing, a Christmas Carol, or a simple nudge awakens it by a stranger. You have no control over if or when it awakens. Grief is unfair and unexpected when it rises from sleep. You learn to cope by building your defenses. Your entire being becomes a fortress, protecting itself from further pain. Occasionally a crack emerges and the soul awakens with the force of an earthquake.