The weird thing about grieving for someone is that for a while you think you're okay. You still smile and laugh and enjoy life but then you remember that they're gone forever, that you'll never hug or hold them again. Grief is a weird cycle because I can go from okay to screaming in the same day. From acceptance back to denial back to disbelief.

I want to be around people, and I don't. I'm lonely but I want to be alone. I don't know if I'm okay. I don't know if I'll ever be okay again. Right when I think I'm okay, I break down, I shatter again. Just when I feel like I was piecing myself back together.

Do I even want to have kids with this brutal reminder that they can be snatched away and no one can do anything about it?

I don't know.

I keep breaking down

I was in class a few days ago and Tristan popped into my head and I started crying. Just now I was thinking about when Briana gets out of jail. I thought about when and if she tries to come to my parents' house for Christmas. Christmas. The day he was murdered.

The suicidal thoughts I had before were gone, now I just miss him. I miss my little peanut. He was so small, so innocent, so sweet. Once when Darrin and I were on FaceTime, Tristan blew him kisses before he left.

I keep having horrific visions of what his last moments were like. Utter fear and confusion. Wherever his spirit is, I apologize for not being able to help him and I tell him that he is so loved, I send him my love even in death and hope it gets to him. I hope he knows we love him. I hope that on some higher level of consciousness, he understands that there's nothing we wouldn't have done for him.

The number two keeps hitting me. He was only 2 years old. He didn't even get to turn 3. He didn't get to grow up and go to school with other kids. He didn't get to graduate high school, go to college, get married like he was supposed to. He'll never again feel the sun on his face or walk next to his Pop Pop. He won't open gifts with his Gigi and I'll never get to hold him again.

Christmas time used to be my favorite time of year. Now, I don't know what it'll be. I don't want to celebrate or sing songs, I don't want a tree. I want to watch videos of him and look at his pictures. I want to cry and scream and throw things. I want to remember his happy little face and stop imagining his fearful last moments.

I don't want to put my life on hold, though. I know that would do no good. I just want my goddamn nephew.