I’ve spent the past few weeks considering my options. Grieving, never once celebrating. I’ve realized that there is only one thing left to do but it is the worst, most drastic option. I just need to escape—I simply can’t face this again. The fear looms big and bold, and I cannot even convince myself to live in its shadow.
There is only one way to outrun it. There is only one way to peace. It’s bad enough that I’ve come back to this place—my children deserve for me to choose not to stay here. Even Patrick deserves better than this.
I know it is a mortal sin, and I have no idea how I’m ever going to convince myself to go through with it when I can’t even bring myself to write the word, but I have run out of options, haven’t I? It’s death, one way or another, and at least this way I have control.
May God forgive me for what I have to do.