Screaming at the top of my lungs

Today I spent most of my day on a plane traveling.  Looking out at the clouds, my thoughts were a reflection of how my mind is racing in a million directions.  I wondered how my son was doing in heaven, if he was mad at me for not fighting hard enough to protect him, whether Luc would ever have to pay for all the terrible things he has done…

Amongst these thoughts, I also wonder how I will feel once I slow down.  Ever since Prince died, I have been running.  I have been running and “screaming”.  By “screaming” I mean that I have been screaming to everyone who will listen to me through my writing and through my words about what happened to my son.  I haven’t just been screaming since Prince died.  In fact, I started screaming the moment I left Luc’s hellish cave.  The difference now is that it seems as if people are finally listening.  It kills me that it took my son’s death for others to realize what I have known since the moment I walked out of that man’s house and saw what he really was.
Seven weeks ago, I had to take my baby off of life support after learning that his brain was officially dead.  Though I have been trying to run away from the memory of that night, its times like this when those memories creep back into my mind.  I was holding Prince when his heart stopped beating.  I remember wearing a white adidas jacket – he bled all over my sleeve.  I remember feeling completely helpless because no matter what I did – I couldn’t do the only thing I wanted in the world to do.  I couldn’t bring my little boy back.
Last night I was on the phone with a friend.  As I told him about all the plans I had and how I wanted to hold people accountable, he stopped me and said, “You need to grieve.  You can do it now – or later – but you need to grieve.”
He’s right and I know this, but I’m scared.  I’m scared because there is nothing I can do with those thoughts.  I am scared that if I let them in, I won’t get out of bed.  I am scared that I will die right along side my son.
I am also determined not to let Luc have that sort of power over me.  Psychopaths count on scaring their victims into silence.  I will not allow him to do that to me.
So I sit here thinking about how I will “strike a balance” between grief and strength.  I cannot slow down until I am sure my son will not be forgotten.  I think about Prince every day and every minute.  I think about all the things I wish I had done and all the things I wish he had been able to do.  Lately, however, I have also thought about the things that I can do in order to be sure that Prince (through his memory) still has an impact on the living.
Several of my friends and family have expressed the reality in how dangerous it is for me to speak publicly about what Luc has done to me and my family.  I understand that danger better than anyone (because I lived and continue to live in fear).  That being said, I will not stop because even though I was not first – I want to be the last.  I want to be the last woman who is charmed and conned by this man.  I respect my son’s memory and my role as his mother too much to be silent and hide in a corner because I am afraid.
Yesterday I went to the police station.  Before leaving, I said, “If something happens to me, there is only one person who could be responsible.  I have only one person who wishes I were dead and would do anything to silence me.  One person.”  While nobody likes to hear someone say this to them, I am realistic enough to know that my odds of survival are not as good having been involved with this man.
I could be silenced by fear – but that is not who I am.  I guess I wasn’t the perfect target after all.  This particular con ends with me.