At some point you will come out of shock
And stop being numb
And feel pain in every fiber of your soul
But that intensity won’t last.
You will walk through a strange world
Different in every way.
And miss your child every moment of every day.
There are no answers to those questions.
There is no closure.
And the “steps” do not matter.
But you will keep breathing
And it will get better… in only a very small way. And you learn.
Color will return to your world
And taste will come back to your food.
You won’t cry all the time
even when you hear that song.
And it won’t continue to surprise you when you laugh at something funny.
I watch the sun rise over this little lake… a pond really.
And sometimes I snap a photo to share.
And every day that sun comes up over that ridge.
And I pray a prayer without words.
Because it is comforting.
Because I am thankful.
And whatever sadness or anger or peace I find today…
I am alive to feel it.
I am alive.
I am living in a world without my son.
I am living with a jar full of ashes
And a wall of photos
And a head full of memories.
But without him
And in the worst darkest part of that grief, when it seemed I wouldn’t be able to go on
That I would never ever see or feel or do
That I could not and would not
Live or breathe or work or smile or taste or see or feel…
I came out of that shock
I surfaced and breathed air…
I am alive. And I do breathe and feel and live
And I can smile to see the sun rise tomorrow.
And to say thank you.