My son, Jacob Emmanuel, has been gone for one year now.  He died one year ago last week.  There isn't a day where I don't think about him or miss him; the pain I feel now is just as fresh as it was on the day we got the phone call, alerting us that he had been killed in a freak hunting mishap.

He was only 17, just starting to live his life.

He had just graduated from high school and was thinking of enlisting in the U.S. Marines in a few weeks; in fact, the day before he died, he had gone to see the recruiter for some last minute instructions and to get his orders.  He was to have reported to the base in South Carolina in a couple of weeks. 

To celebrate his joining the Marines, Jacob and some friends went on a weekend hunting trip.  They were hunting for wild turkeys and rabbit.  Something went horribly wrong, and as a result, Jacob was shot at close range, right in the face; he died almost instantly.

I didn't know anything had happened until our neighbor (the mother of one of his friends) called to say that Jacob had been in a hunting accident and was currently on his way to the hospital; I had better get to the hospital quickly if I was to have any chance of seeing him alive, I remember Peggy Sue tellng me.  It was that bad.

At the hospital, I was told the news that Jacob did not make it.  They had worked on him for over an hour after he had arrived in the ER; despite their best efforts, the medical staff could not save my son.  It was the worst possible news any parent could ever receive; one doesn't expect to have their child die first.

I don't remember much after that, not even the funeral.  I guess I blocked it all out of my mind, as a way of wanting to forget what had happened.  I didn't even cry ... not until much later, that is.  Then once I started to cry, I couldn't stop, and I continue TO cry now as I write this.  Seems that everywhere I turn or look, I see reminders of Jacob Emmanuel, and right away, the tears start anew and a crushing pain envelops my chest and my heart. 

If Jacob were still alive, he would be in the Marines, following in his daddy's footsteps.  He would be thinking about his future, possibly finding a girlfriend, going to college, or getting married.  Now all that has been taken away from him (and myself) instantly; I have become the mother of a deceased child, and no wishing or praying will do any good in bringing him back to life.  He is as good as gone, and my world as I once knew it has been changed forever and ever.