A Difficult Post

I've put off posting this for almost 2 months.  Some people know me and know this, others probably just wonder where the hell I've been.  Have I been sewing?  Why haven't I shared my fabulous creations with the adoring blogging world.  WTF, BeeBee? 
On January 25th I came home from work to find a quiet house.  The lights were off, the TV off, everything as I left it at 5:45 that morning.  A silent dread started to build in me as I climbed the stairs, grew as I saw my son's bedroom door closed, became deafening as there was no answer to my knock.  Oddly, I almost wasn't surprised to see him lying on his bed, quiet, still, cold.  He hadn't moved from when he laid down on Tuesday night.  I sat silently with him for almost an hour before I called my husband, before I called 911, before I called my best friend.  I needed my own quiet and final time with him.  His face was peaceful, there was no thrashing around, no evidence of trauma or pain.  He went instantly and quietly. We buried him next to his grandfather.
The past 7 years have been so hard, he was 17 when the driver of the car he was riding in fell asleep and hit a utility pole ejecting my son from the SUV.  In the next years we learned a new reality, a world of paralysis, pain, hospitals and heartbreak.  There were - I believe - 13 surgeries on his back in those years.  Years of pressure sores, home nursing and attempts at going forward it life. 
Most recently, things seemed to finally be turning around.  In September he had a surgery to close a years old pressure sore on his tailbone, he was finally in no pain, he had registered for school at a local community college - starting as a freshman older than most graduates.  But I think he had just had enough, it was all too hard.  Maybe an embolism?  Months of inactivity trying to heal the sores combined with paraplegia?  Maybe just a broken heart.  Not really sure.
I hope he is at peace now.  Running on the beach in San Diego.  Dancing.  Maybe he's met his grandmother that died 2 years before his birth.  Fishing with his Papaw.  Hanging with a school pal that also left us way too soon.
One thing I do know is that I miss him more than I thought I could miss anything or anyone.  There is an empty, black hole inside me where he used to be. I miss his humor - he could be so funny.  I miss cooking dinner for him - he loved to eat.  I even miss doing his laundry (but just a little). 

Maybe now I can start to post again - I thought about not saying anything and just going on but I couldn't.  It seemed wrong.  It seemed almost like a lie.  I needed to say this to be able to move on.  I think.  Hopefully I will post again sooner and that it will be a happier entry - I'd be hard pressed to come up with a more depressing one, that's for sure.  But for now I'm going outside to enjoy the beautiful early spring we're having.