I know I am being protective.

I know I am being selfish.

I know I am trying to control the pieces of him that are left. I see it. I recognize it. I won’t pretend I don’t. But it feels like if I loosen my grip even a little, I will lose him comes, So I hold tight.

I want every last piece of Austin.

Every memory. Every story. Every laugh. Every flaw. I want them all tucked inside of me where no one can mishandle them, misunderstand them, or reduce him to a moment that does not define him.

It might sound selfish, maybe it is.

But he was mine before he was anyone else’s.

I carried him.

I raised him.

I loved him in ways no one else ever could.

And now that he is gone, this fierce protectiveness is all I have left to mother.

I want the hurt to be mine alone.

I want to carry the weight so no one else has to feel it this deeply. If someone has to live in this unbearable moment forever, let it be me. Let them move forward. Let them breathe again. I will stay here with him.

Sometimes I think if I move too far ahead in time, he won’t be there waiting in the memory of “before.” The Bible says God is near the brokenhearted. Maybe that’s why I feel Austin most when my chest aches the worst. Maybe he stands beside the One who holds what I cannot. Maybe heaven leans closer when a mother’s heart shatters.

I don’t know all the theology.

I don’t know all the answers.

I just know that in the deepest ache, in the quiet tears, in the moments when I feel completely undone… that is when I feel him