It is nothing, really.

It is nothing really… letting go.

For a parent to get over the death of a child. Really. Nothing.

Like stopping time. Like giving up breathing. Like falling through the floor and dissolving into the earth.
That pain you feel every moment of every day.
Let it go. Smile even when you don’t feel it.
It’s like burning rain or keeping the sun from rising.

You just have to let go of every memory. Everything. Forget he ever existed.

Forgetting the sound of his laugh. His voice. His laugh.
Forgetting that third grade play.
Or the feel of his cheek against yours.
Or that sleepless night.
Or his favorite food.
Like nothing.
Like drowning in alcohol or forcing that fire into your blood
That will burn you out
Like those ashes on the mantle.
And holding smoke.

And then you have to let go of love. All of it.
That love of a parent for a child. Let it go.
Like climbing water, or gripping the sky. It is easy.
And when you have it down…
Giving it all up
Letting it go
Getting over it,
That hollow husk that is left of you
Bereft of love and memory
Can sit there in the dark
And weep alone.


One thought on “It is nothing, really.

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