I'm not going anywhere

He said, “I’m not going anywhere, babe.”  I knew he meant what he said.  I trusted him.  

Just hearing the words, sent me reeling, whirl winding, back to another who was to be there early the next morning after he spent the night with a friend.  He was my son.  He was 16.  He intended to return the next morning.  He had free will.  In the midst of the night, though, he was gone.  A night that until the next morning when the Sheriff and the Coroner’s office knocked on my door, I had not known a dark side… of myself or of others in a struggle I am too familiar with now.  I slept innocently, naive, and lastly, soundly, through the night that my Sammy died but from that night on, I would not know that level of deep sleep for the thoughts of what happened that night while I slept peacefully would not allow me.  No time for a rest.  No escape.  No sound.  Silence in the night is maddening.  My son, Sammy… 16… curious… died.  I was not there.  I was not alone in my loss.  I was in absoluteness, purely broken.  No, he wasn’t going anywhere.  #muchlovetosam