EIGHT

Dear Bobber,

You left to go to work. Like any other day. You did not go to work like every other day. You were circling the drain. I knew you were really white knuckling life. I could not fix it. I could not get in your head. The vice grips holding my boy hostage were stronger than I could imagine.

You wanted to disappear. You wanted not to feel. You wanted to be alone. I get all those things, but I couldn’t let go. When it was very apparent you were not coming home, I soon realized I had no idea where you were. I wanted to find you, I wanted to fix it. You wanted none of it.

Never had I not known where you were or how to find you. I panicked. I called, I begged, I cursed. You were a grown up, I was not privy to your business. That would of set well I suppose if I did not have a fire in my soul and the mindset, you are mine. I do have a right. You are my beating heart.

I would not be told no. I found you. I did not care the means I went to dig into your darkness. You are mine.

I was so afraid, heartbroken and felt nothing but total unconditional pure love when I found you. As they wheeled you away, I was clinging to a hope I wasn’t sure was there.

They saved you. They saved you, from death, but not the demons within. Those were not to be reckoned with. They slithered down and bowed their heads waiting to destroy my beautiful boy.

It’s been eight years today. My chest is tight, my heart is rapid, I thought you were going to be ok…

You were, for three more months…

My beautiful perfect boy…

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