I got the news last night via a one line email that my son, my R., left this life on Sunday afternoon. No further details other than a phone number to call in Washington.

It’s true, despite my first reaction that they must have the wrong 16 year old. It is going to take me some time to find my way through this one. In a three year span, I’ve lost the two people who gave some of the strongest definitions to my identity. I’m no longer a daughter and I am no longer a mother.

I’ll be okay at some point. But right now, I am not.