Dear Momma of an Angel

Dear Momma,
I do not know you and you do not know me. Yet, I believe that if we met, we would know each other perhaps better than our closest friends know us. Because you see, I too am feeling the pain that you are feeling today. Although it has been a year and a half since I found my son shot by his own hand, I bury him over again almost every day in my heart.
While you stood over your child's grave today, I stood with you in my heart and I ached for you. I ached that you will never see her precious face again. I ached that you could never hold or caress her beautiful little hand. I ached that you would never ever be able to watch lay asleep in quite the same way because this time she'll never wake up.
You didn't know that I could barely get through work today because I longed to run to you and hold you and tell you that it'll be okay. That eventually you will be able to breath even if for just a few minutes. I longed to tell you, that right now is when you will find out who your true "friends" and "family" are. I longed to tell you to be still and just wait on God before you make any rash choices that you'll regret.
When I looked at the clock and realized that soon you  would go to the cemetery to say one final good-bye, I wanted to be there and hold your hand and stroke your hair and wipe away the pain that you have. Because I know that we would not wish that pain on anyone. I wanted to whisper in your ear, "Hush now, just hush, and try to get through this".
And now as I relax after this long day, I wonder if you are alone. I wonder if you ate anything or if anyone has asked you what they can do for you. I wonder if you are so exhausted that you will allow yourself to sleep or if you will fight it for another night because waking up to this nightmare is worth the insomnia.
Tomorrow, and the next day and the next, I will think of you. As I stand by my son's grave and ask, "Why?" will you be standing next to her grave too? Will you ask God to take it all back and join me in my constant battle with Him to make me understand? Or will you just press your face against her stone like I do his and feel the coldness touch your very soul.
In this next hour and in these next days and in these next months, I will be with you. No, I will probably never meet you, but I will pray and think of you every time I experience a first Thanksgiving, a first Christmas,  and the all important first birthday. I will be with you when you look up suddenly and you are sure she's standing there, but the girl turns around and it is not her. I will be there when her friend graduates, gets married, and has a child.
You see, I will always be there for you because no one knows these hurts except a mother who has lost a child to this horrid death. And all I ask in return for this time I spend with you in prayer, is that when you look across the room, to the next Momma who will walk in our shoes, is that you be with her every moment, of every day, of every month, of every year. And that she will know, that you know the pain she is feeling and that some how, some way, you will be healed just a little bit by trying to ease this tender wound that will scar, but never ever go away.
Love Always,
The Momma of Jeffrey David Burd  7/21/1990 - 3/21/2011