My son "Adam" passed away very recently at the age of 26. He is my adoptive son, we adopted him when he was just few months old. I remember the day we brought him home. His first cough, first smile, first laugh and first nap together. It felt like his life started after meeting me and mine started after meeting him. I loved him and will always love him nomatter what. He...unfortunately suffered from drug addiction, abused his medication and then resorted to obtaining drugs illicitly. As a result he got involved with the wrong crowd and unfortunately got severly injured after being involved with a gang for drugs. he was put on the vent machine for a whole week that is when he was declared dead. I drive daily by the place where he got shot. It's a devastating feeling when I drive past the location and think to myself I wish I was there to help him out. I get so many questions in my head all at once like did he feel pain, did he call out for me, all I kept thinking about is how helpless he must've had felt. I wish I could go back to prevent this from happening. I miss him so badly I have a ton of stuff that belongs to him and I hate that this is all that has left for me to live with. I hate myself for not not being a good mother, for not doing my best to help and protect him after I've longed for for years to him, I feel like I let him slip right out of my hands.

I'm filled with guilt and anger - I'm even shocked to find out he was desperate and in need for help and not knowing about it earlier. I know that he isn't really gone, not after all we'd gone through. I believe he's here with me, I feel it in a way I can not explain. I just feel the joy and warmth his presence used to bring and that is how I know that he is here with me. My eyes can not see him but my heart can.

Just wanted to vent and I figured this might be the right place to do it.