I don't know how better to describe this day. Burying the ashes of my only son in the ground among the seeds of a lolbolly was not anything I'd ever thought I'd do. I thought losing him was hard. Living without him seems to be harder. I made it through the day, thanks to the wonderful people in my life. If it weren't for the promise I have made to Anya, I don't believe that making it through another one would be possible. Every day is another reminder that he's not here... that he's never going to be again. It is gut wrenching. I just wish I could turn back time and find a way to stop him.
This ceremony made me realise that his short 27 years had been far more valuable than my near 50. He was an organ donor. When he died, his heart was no longer viable, but the other 7 organs he could donate were, as well as his eyes. He saved 7 lives and brought sight to a blind person with the taking of his own life. My son may have given up on his time here, but in the forfeit of his future, he gave 7 people a future they would have otherwise not even had, and another person a better one. I could never live up to this kind of total selflessness. He left this world not only because of his pain, but because he believed the world was going to be better without him. He made 8 people's lives better, not realising how much he'd be scarring the people who love him. He didn't do this to hurt any of us, so why do I get so angry at him?