Dear John: You Left Us Much Too Soon

My 21- year old son, John, died February 2, 2013 in an auto accident. After 100 days, that fact has now become more of a constant, sometimes manageable ache, rather than an open, bleeding wound. Those of us who called John our son, brother, grandchild, nephew, cousin or close friend are learning how to live without him, each in our own way and at our own pace. For me, it has been an emotional roller coaster, beginning with despair beyond description. Only through the love and support of family and friends was I able to function at all during those dark days immediately following the accident. Since then, I have run the gamut of feelings, from re-discovering the power of prayer, to questioning my faith; from realizing the value of true friends to wanting to withdraw from society completely; and from becoming more appreciative of the blessings I still have, to wishing I'd never been born. I'm told this is normal and will eventually run its course and end in acceptance.  We'll see. 

What I do know is I will never not miss the John that was, and the man he was becoming. Not after 100 days, 100 weeks, 100 months or whatever time I have left in this life.