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On June 8,2002, you inflicted a gunshot wound to your head. I was gravely torn apart when I received the news that my precious, 29 years young, only child was dead. I vehemently believe that you were a misdiagnosed BiPolar. (I had only been diagnosed with the wretched disorder three months before, after at least twelve years of suffering. BiPolar is genetic.)My Jonathan, I'm not angry with you at all. You were so tormented within for so long. The myriad of medications did not help you because they were not treating your illness. You know all this now. Anyway, I see your true colors like never before in that you fought so valiantly and relentlessly against the odds. You could not have won the battle. The illness was beyond you. Nevertheless, you gave it all you could--and then some. You didn't pull that trigger, my young man. The illness did. O, my child, I knew your pain. I knew your anguish. I didn't know the real cause behind it at the time; but, I knew your mind-wrenching torment. Although my heart aches so terribly much, I find comfort in knowing that you are finally at peace. Finally at rest, with no more torment in your mind. You deserve peace. I pray constantly for the progress of your soul in the heavenly realm. I miss the sound of your voice, the melody of your laughter, your kisses on my cheek, and that winning smile. I miss you, baby. I love you so much. Peace, Ma. |
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