Soon after my son was killed I began keeping a journal. The entries were erratic and sometimes months went by without an entry. Looking back I now realize the entries were made when the grief was too intense to bear and this was my way of coping. I was so concerned with acting "normal" for appearances. My daughters’ emotional health was especially fragile as they were dealing with losing a sibling as well as their fathers illness. My husband was dealing with losing a son as well as his own health. I felt like I had to be the strong one to hold everyone together. I couldn’t lose my husband and daughters too! The pressure of being a caregiver by itself is tremendous. I felt like I was caving in from every direction. God had to have carried me during those months. There is no other explanation. I was in labor with my daughter when my sister said, "You aren’t ready to have that baby. You aren’t hurting enough!" She didn’t think I was hurting "enough" because I wasn’t screaming and crying with my pain. Much to her amazement I had a healthy baby girl within the hour. When is ‘enough’ enough? Or, when is ‘enough’ not ‘enough’? Do you have to cry out loud to hurt ‘enough’? Is a silent pain held inside not ‘enough’? Who knows what I’m feeling? I thought I saw Sam today. I was in the grocery store going through the check out. I looked up and in front of me was a young boy, blond, about 5’8, and broad shoulders. I almost touched him. I froze. It wasn’t him. It was some other mother’s son. The first Thanksgiveing I went through the motions of doing what I usually do. Tears covered the cookbook and I couldn’t read the cake recipe. Sam loved carrot cake so I made one for him. "Oh God, I can’t take anymore! Help me." I’m so alone. I have nobody to talk to. Just one person, just one is all I need. The girls are worried about their dad. He has lost so much weigh. They told me to make him eat. My daughter is so angry. She doesn’t realize she is grieving. She is lashing out at me. I am the strongest one. I can handle it. The first year anniversary, August 3rd on Friday night. I watched the clock tick. Nine o’clock, one year ago tonight the police said that was the approximate time of death. Everything I did last year, down to the last detail was relived in my mind. Could I have done anything to protect him? Why couldn’t I? Bad mother, I let him down. Mothers are supposed to protect their children. Failure. I went to bed and cried myself to sleep. The first Christmas we all decided to have Christmas in honor of Sam. He loved it so much. He never stopped believing in Santa. He asked me when he was about 9 if Santa was real. I told him that as long as he believed Santa would come to see him and bring presents. I told him Santa would live in his heart forever as he was the spirit of giving and unselfishness. Last year Santa brought Sam a new pool stick and CDs.This year he brought him a tree for his grave. Sam’s first birthday after death, May 13th. I gave birth to him at 1pm on a Wednesday. I sang Happy Birthday to him at exactly 1pm today. It was very quiet; I invited no one to the party. I made him a cake, but I told nobody. We drove to the beach together. I talked to him for hours. I felt him nearby. The ocean helps calm me.I feel like I’m screaming inside. I have to force myself to return to work. Sam does not want me to continue like this. He knows I’m in trouble emotionally. I have to survive for him. Sam is gone and will never return to this earth. He taught us all so many things before he left us. Not a single day passes that we aren’t reminded of his impact on us. His spirit is definitely felt in all our lives. I know for a fact he loved us and I also know for a fact that he knew how much we all loved him. He spirit lives on and will until eternity.