You hear a phone ringing. It's yours. You look over and see your son's face. He hasn't called you in such a long time. It'll be nice to hear from him.
It's not him. It's the police. They ask you to come down to the station.
Your heart is racing. What did he do?
You arrive at the station. A nice gentleman leads you to a quiet room.
Your son is dead.
Wave upon wave of sadness hits you.
Tears leak out of your face.
There is a hole in your heart.
Your world is no longer in color, but a monochrome gray.
All of the happiness you experienced is gone.
Your child is dead.
Words are coming at you from all sides.
Who are these people?
You demand to see him.
They tell you that wouldn't be a good idea.
You DEMAND to see him.
They begrudgingly accept.
There is a corpse where your child should be.
There is a CORPSE where your CHILD should be.
THERE IS A CORPSE WHERE YOUR CHILD SHOULD BE.
You collapse. Hot tears are peppering your face. Someone is helping you up and into a chair.
Your wife is on her way to pick you up. Everything is blurring.
You're home. Sharp edges are appearing in your vision.
You want to punish the person responsible for what happened to your child.
A wave of sadness hits you again. Your child killed himself. He is responsible for his own death.
You momentarily wanted to punish him, for killing himself.
You cry again until your body is dehydrated.
Your work suffers.
Your family suffers.
You are suffering.
Someone goes on a long tirade about the second amendment. You wish you had a gun so you could shoot them in the face.
You start drinking.
Your wife is talking to you. She's asking you about the funeral.
Her words are a hot poker poking you in your tear ducts.
You can't hold on to this feeling. It's burning your eyes, and destroying your life.
You put your child in the ground. You place a flower where his body is.
Your child will never wake up again.
Years go by.
Your wife leaves. She can't stand the drinking.
More years go by.
It's his birthday.
Your coworkers are throwing you a party. It's your retirement day.
You're so happy.
Then you remember.
You say nothing.
Your party goes well.
You go home.
You drink until you can't remember anything.
Your retirement starts.
You drink all day.
You cry when you drink.
You stop going out.
You wake up one day, and it's the day after your son's birthday.
Nobody called you.
You waste away, alone.
You fall down. Nobody is there to help you get up.
They find your body a few days later.
It's not him. It's the police. They ask you to come down to the station.
Your heart is racing. What did he do?
You arrive at the station. A nice gentleman leads you to a quiet room.
Your son is dead.
Wave upon wave of sadness hits you.
Tears leak out of your face.
There is a hole in your heart.
Your world is no longer in color, but a monochrome gray.
All of the happiness you experienced is gone.
Your child is dead.
Words are coming at you from all sides.
Who are these people?
You demand to see him.
They tell you that wouldn't be a good idea.
You DEMAND to see him.
They begrudgingly accept.
There is a corpse where your child should be.
There is a CORPSE where your CHILD should be.
THERE IS A CORPSE WHERE YOUR CHILD SHOULD BE.
You collapse. Hot tears are peppering your face. Someone is helping you up and into a chair.
Your wife is on her way to pick you up. Everything is blurring.
You're home. Sharp edges are appearing in your vision.
You want to punish the person responsible for what happened to your child.
A wave of sadness hits you again. Your child killed himself. He is responsible for his own death.
You momentarily wanted to punish him, for killing himself.
You cry again until your body is dehydrated.
Your work suffers.
Your family suffers.
You are suffering.
Someone goes on a long tirade about the second amendment. You wish you had a gun so you could shoot them in the face.
You start drinking.
Your wife is talking to you. She's asking you about the funeral.
Her words are a hot poker poking you in your tear ducts.
You can't hold on to this feeling. It's burning your eyes, and destroying your life.
You put your child in the ground. You place a flower where his body is.
Your child will never wake up again.
Years go by.
Your wife leaves. She can't stand the drinking.
More years go by.
It's his birthday.
Your coworkers are throwing you a party. It's your retirement day.
You're so happy.
Then you remember.
You say nothing.
Your party goes well.
You go home.
You drink until you can't remember anything.
Your retirement starts.
You drink all day.
You cry when you drink.
You stop going out.
You wake up one day, and it's the day after your son's birthday.
Nobody called you.
You waste away, alone.
You fall down. Nobody is there to help you get up.
They find your body a few days later.