What am I doing?
I cant leave my room. I have your pictures everywhere but I cant even look at them. I fall asleep looking at your box of ashes. I lay on my side and pull it up close to my stomach. That comforts me. You grew inside of me and to feel you again is nice.
But its not really you. Its your ashes. My sons ashes.
Ive been thinking alot about that. Im glad I didnt bury you because then I would be living at a cemetary. I cant even imagine you in a casket. I cant even imagine you in the ground. You were so free. But now I lay at night and I imagine you on a cold hard steel table. I can see them wheeling your body to be creamated. Maybe I should have been there. Why didnt i think of that? Why didnt they ask me? You were all alone and I let them just burn you up.
Physically you were beautiful. Your face was so handsome and your body was athletic and strong. And mommie let them burn you up. Im sorry. I just wanted to keep what I had left of you with me. I was greedy and selfish and I let you go into that big oven by yourself and I let them set you on fire.
What the hell was I thinkin?
So now I have a white box. Everyone says I should get a urn or something to put you in. I dont want to. I guess Im not ready or whatever. I just like you in this box.I dont know.
Im so lonely. Im tired of looking at these walls.
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