I honestly don't believe I have ever seen a sadder picture than this pic. This is my son Frank, whom we affectionately call Tank. This is Tank at his father's funeral. The single most important person in this boy's life. His best friend, his world, his idol, his love, his heart, his foundation and his rock. He is wearing his daddy's "joke" glasses. He is wearing his father's watch and his father's class ring and his father's belt buckle and his father's boots. Do you see a pattern here? We are coming up on a year that we have lost him and this boy is still a mess. I used to pray that we would get the old Tank back soon. Now I know we never will. I just have to pray that we get a sane, solid, somewhat happy Tank back. One that wants to live life again. I lost the love of my life and so much pain comes from that but no pain crushes a mother like seeing your first born, your only son in such extreme pain all the time. It literally rips my heart out and stomps all over it. Everything within my mother's soul wishes that I could have traded places and taken this boy's pain away. He no longer knows his road. He no longer has faith. He no longer loves or laughs without pause. He is constantly sad, mad, troubled, destructive, hurting, pissed, confused, foggy, forgetful, spiteful, dishonest, egotistical, unprideful, self medicating....and yet when I look at this boy I see his father...if only I could give him that mirror and get him to see the beautiful man he can become again because his father raised him to be that. Because his father was also that man......somedays I can feel Gary pushing the love down to Tank so strong and so long...just trying to father him as best he can. One day when this boy has a son....and he holds him in his arms, so proud and so loving I know he will understand. He will see that his daddy never wanted to leave him. His daddy lived for him and him alone. One day I hope these wounds will scar over....for now they are still so painful and raw and weeping....and I am unable to do anything to help.