I didn't know how this would end when I began writing. I just knew I needed to pen my anger. I had a lot of things I needed to get through: thoughts that take over my brain and I think about over and over. Knowing what I know about myself, I'm stuck here until I take the time to write it down. It's gonna be a lot. I need to write about what happened in the hours after his death, how I remember the last time I saw his face, what exactly I saw & how that April is sooooo separate from the April I am now. I've learned what that is: dissociation. I've also realized I've used dissociation my entire life. I'm not ready to write about that yet. I need to write these facts down. Facts that sound a little too weird if you've never suffered the loss of a child. I have. So whatever I need is ok as long as it isn't harmful to me or anyone else. In the middle of writing how angry I am about not having signs from my son, about this deep turmoil I'm addre...