A Letter to my Son
I feel hopeless. I look at you and my heart begins to pound within my chest and head as if I am a giant pulsating artery. A nauseating sensation of unease begins to slither its way upon my body, it magnifies with each inhalation as I continue to agonize over your symptoms. I know that I am helpless in this endeavor. I am nothing but a useless bag of skin and bones in this critical moment. I am consciously aware of this, so I do what one does when they can do nothing else, and so I cry.
I shed a tear for my stupidity. I shed a tear for my lack of curative knowledge. I shed another because I don't know what else to do. Tears rain down upon my cheeks for your suffering. I cry rivers because the thought of losing you shatters my heart to irreparable pieces, as a slice of my soul is torn from my psyche, and is lost forever within a consuming tar pit of darkness and despair. I choke and gag upon my agony, as one drowns upon their own blood before dying.
I can no longer draw life's sweet breath as I witness your unnecessary suffering. The acrid stench of horror and anguish seeps throughout my every pore, enveloping us both in dreads putrid cologne. And like a charge of electricity, my torment calls upon those around us, animating their lifeless corpses as they gather to observe what is now taking place. They stand and stare like the good for nothings that they are, like I am.
The thought of losing you drives me to insanity's periphery. My life would be numb, frigid, and lifeless without you. I am selfish, so very selfish, I care not about anything more than to have you here with me, so that I may watch you grow into the amazing man you are destined to become. Your death will be my annihilation. You, my son, are a piece of me, and when you leave, you take with you the extraordinary component we share. A piece that binds us together, unifying our bond as mother and child. In your absence, I will cease to remain whole, instead, existing fragmented and devoid of sentience.
I love you so much, so very much that mere words do not hold the capacity to describe an inkling of what I feel. I know I must remain strong, as not to scare you any further, but how can I bear this weight upon my shoulders when I am so weak? How do I remain calm when my mind sends bodily signals to run and hide under a warm, velvety, blanket of blissful ignorance and pretend that everything is okay?
Though I feel as if my heart has been kicked and beaten to pieces, I shall find my strength somewhere within the depths of my core, for I must be as strong as stone if you are to recover. I must have the courage to battle along by your side as we defeat this invading sickness. I will not stop fighting.
I will not allow you to give up little trooper. In this battle, we fight together, and I shall carry you to victory.
- Cynthia Cán