Signs of Recovery

I was told today that I seem to be "engaging more than I have been over the last few months since Bryn died" and that "perhaps I am starting to show signs of recovery".  I am obviously doing a very good job at deceiving people. Maybe I should have taken up acting.

The truth is, Bryn is always on my mind. Constantly. Every waking minute, and often when I sleep too. When I put my shoes on in the morning I see his runners and I think how his feet used to be in them. He loved those runners. I see the jacket hanging in the garage as I get my car out to go to work, and his toolbox on the bench. I think of his keyboard, that he used to make sing with wonderful music, now silent. His drum set sits in the basement, exactly as he left it, and I can still 'see' him there playing them with his shirt off as he always used to do. I pass the site of the accident, the spot where he died, every day on the way into work. We placed a cross there, with his name on it, a reminder to the world that we lost our youngest son there.

I fight not to cry at random moments throughout the day, for no apparent reason, other than my son is dead of course. He is an emptiness that cannot be filled. A never ending heart ache that no pills can cure. I am detached from reality. How can this possibly be real that my son is dead and I will never see him again, or hear his voice again, ever? It has to be a nightmare that I will surely wake from soon. I frequently wonder about my sanity and how I just want to stop, and scream, and make it all go away. It is relentless. I have even contemplated, on the drive home from work, how easy it would be to force the nightmare to end.

Signs of recovery? It's never ending torture.