A MOTHER'S TRAGEDY

Despair, hopelessness, anguish, pain, misery is how I feel as I stare at my son's lifeless body. My sweet baby boy . Oh, my sweet baby boy how precious you are to me. My love, I see you now. I will forever see you as my sweet baby boy.

As I leave the morgue with tears in my eyes and a pain that is so unimaginable it hurts to breath. It hurts to walk. I look at that precious face of my sweet baby boy and I ask myself. Where did it all go wrong?

My home. What is my home without that sweet laughter, that playful smile of Wyatt? I can still hear him say "Mommy watch me run." What a beautiful boy he was.

Again, I ask myself. Where did it all go wrong? I raised Wyatt to be the best version of himself. I always knew he was different. That was okay with me. I loved Wyatt regardless.

I saw the warning signs. I did everything in my power as his mother to help Wyatt. I talked to him. I took him to see doctors. Nothing helped my boy. I was losing him.

Day by day that sweet innocent boy, my boy was withdrawing from me. Try as I did nothing was getting through too Wyatt.

The media is vilifying my son and me. I'm a good mother. My son was a good boy. As a mother you want to see the good in your kids. That's what I saw.

I also saw my son struggling with being different. No one saw him like I did. No one wanted to see the real Wyatt. The fun-loving boy I saw and knew.

The people in this town wanted Wyatt to conform and being like everyone else. I told Wyatt to just be himself. The truth is I never knew how bad the people were especially the kids.

I felt my son's pain but it was a silent pain. Wyatt never told me the truth. He suffered alone. I would have done everything and anything to help my son. He was my world.

I took Wyatt to his favorite places. The arcade. The movies and comic con. For that one moment Wyatt was the same boy I remembered. For that one moment I got my boy back.

Then reality hit when we returned home. Wyatt retreated into his room and stated there for hours upon hours. Talking to him was fruitless.

I was running out of options. The doctors told me this will pass. it was only a phase. I knew better. I knew my boy. I was his mother after all. Something or someone was hurting my boy.

Wyatt my beautiful boy. My handsome boy. Why didn't you tell me who was hurting you? Why did you do this? I wanted to help you. I always believed in the boy you were. No one knew you like I did.

Bang! What was that? I open the door. I look around my neighborhood. No one is out. I look down and see a rock. Taped around the rock is a note. I open the note and read it. The note says "Monster."

I slam the door shut. I slide down to the floor crying. My boy is not a monster. What he did should have never happened. I don't condone what Wyatt did. My heartbreaks for the parents who lost their children. My heartbreaks for what the families are going through.

I say again my son is not a monster. This damn town never accepted my boy for who he was. They looked down on him because he was different. This town doesn't like people who are different.

Wyatt was so much more than the boy he became. He loved animals books, and art. He loved to dance. He loved riding his bike and he loved telling the most amazing stories.

Nothing the town says about my boy will ever change how I saw my boy. I will always remember the good times me and Wyatt had no matter how much I'm hurting.

I get up from the floor and go to Wyatt's room. My boy's room is still the same. His artwork is scattered all over the room. His comic books are on top of his bed. Wyatt loved superheroes. Superman was his favorite.

I sit on the floor and pick up one of Wyatt's drawings. Oh My God! My poor boy. What was going through your head? I can't even understand what I am seeing.

My boy was full of rage. Full of hatred. My boy hated life. I can't be in Wyatt's room any longer. It's too painful. It's too painful to think of my boy as a hateful person.

Wyatt was so young, fourteen and yet he matured into an adult with adult feelings. I get up to leave Wyatt's room when I notice something under Wyatt's bed.

I lift his bed up and see a notebook. I take out the notebook and look at it. My boy's thoughts are in here. Do I even want to know what he was thinking? Reading his notebook is the only way to understand Wyatt.

With a heavy heart and with a sadness that is so unimaginable, I open Wyatt's notebook. I begin to read. Oh My God! Such dark thoughts.

"Life is dark. Life is built on lies. Life is cruel. Life is full of rage. Life is endless. What is life? My life is worthless. My life is no longer happy. I hate my life. I hate the fact that I am alive. I wish I wasn't alive. I want to close my eyes forever."

Tears are flowing down my face. My sweet baby boy wanted to end his life. My boy hated being alive. God! Why didn't he tell me? Wyatt you should have told me. I keep reading.

"This town is shameless. They do not understand me. They will never understand me. They said cruel hurtful things behind my back. They think I don't hear them, but I do. Shane, Casey and those popular kids are the worse. They point and laugh at me."

"I am going to make them pay for hurting me. I am different. No one sees me. They only see what they want to see. Every day it's hard to wake-up. It's hard to leave home. it's hard to walk in this town. I hate my life. I want everything to end. It will end. I have everything I need to end it all. Tomorrow I will end it all."

I can't read anymore. I close Wyatt's notebook and leave his room. This town hated my boy. This town was cruel to my boy. What kind of town is this?

Even after death this town is still vilifying my son. I make no excuses for the horrible act my son committed. This town played a part in what Wyatt did whether they wanted to admitted or not.

Many children weren't hurt and killed by Wyatt because he was bullied to the point that he killed those who hurt him then he killed himself. My boy killed himself because this town hurt him so much.

I am hurt by what Wyatt did. Parents should never lose their kids. I am also hurt that Wyatt never got the chance to show the town who he really was.

More tears are coming down my face. My sweet baby boy, you did not have to resort to killing. We should have been able to work this out together. I love you my sweet baby boy no matter what.

Heartbreak, pain, despair, anguish, I will never stop feeling this words. I will mourn my boy for the rest of his life. I will miss my boy forever. I will miss his laughter, his smile, his playfulness. I will forever be known as the mother of a mass shooter.

I will take the memory of my son and share the good stories of Wyatt. I will share my son's story about him being bullied and what drove him to do what he did in the hopes this will never happen again. For my son Wyatt, I will turn my pain, my heartbreak, my misery into something positive.

Goodbye my son.. Rest In Peace. No one is hurting you.