I feel cheated that I am not preparing for back to school time. I feel cheated that I am not online purchasing new clothes for him. In preparation for his last year of elementary school. I feel cheated that I won't buy a new pencil box. Or a new backpack. Or markers and protractors. Or to go see who his new teacher is. That Orientation day will be just another day. To get through.
I feel cheated that I will look at holidays not with glee. But as more days to brace myself against. That holidays will never again have the same feeling of wonder. Of joy. That I don't get to experience them through the eyes of my child. My sweet boy who still believed in the power of magic. And of a jolly old man in a big red suit.
I feel cheated of the tween years. Of the teenage angst years. Of the college years.
I feel cheated that I have to contemplate the what could have beens. Instead of the what is. I feel cheated that I will never hear the sound of his voice again. Or his laugh. Or see his smile. I will never receive another random note on my work space from him.
I feel cheated. Because he was cheated. Of life. And all those future years.
And I am angry.
Because I was cheated. Of his life. And all those future years.