Pain and ashes.

I wish I could tell you something more that it hurts to lose my son.
I wish I could say more than it hurts everyday… that it hurts all the time.
I wish there was a lesson that I could convey
A message
But all I have is pain and ashes.
I want him back. I miss him.
Days go by and turn into months and years, and sometimes I think that the worst of this is over.
That I have found my way back.
It is hot and smokey and my eyes are irritated.

And then I see that face in the mirror… and I see how I have aged.
I am angry. And I don’t have the patience…

And that look behind my eyes. I look as best I can for that little part of me that is still alive… that still remembers. That still wants to see tomorrow.
But my eyes will not stay still or focus.
I cut myself open and out spills all these photographs and memories and I try to connect with that person I see. With the smile. With the look in his eyes
And I try to go back to that moment… and that moment and that one.
And I really do want to understand.
I am not still. I am not at peace. I am not who I once was.
And so many feelings sound like something hollow and empty.
And taste like a mouth full of pale ashes.
And as much as I want to hold my son again, as much as I want to hear his voice and his laugh… and see him live a life… a long and interesting life.. As much as all that
I want someone to hold me until this all passes.
So I act like it doesn’t matter and I pretend to listen.
I pretend to watch TV. I pretend to play with my phone.
I can’t tell you anything and I don’t want to talk anymore.
I walk away from you mid sentence.
No eye contact.
And I wish I could tell you.
And so much seems like scorched wood tumbling down
And melting into dust.
Yet I go on and on and on… ¬†because some little part in me wants to live.
I wish I could tell you that there is something more
Than wanting your child back
Or to say that the pain goes away. It changes… and you get used to it.
And that I don’t think about the ashes in that vase downstairs.
I wish I could tell you that I don’t want to turn away
Or lay on the floor and curl up in a ball
And have someone scoop me up in His hand.
Or that there isn’t some small part of me that is still screaming
And still crying.
It hurts to lose my son. I miss him every day.
In pain and ashes.

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One thought on “Pain and ashes.

  1. I wish I could find the words to make you feel better.

    Please remember, you have family and friends that do love you.

    Jeanne

    Like

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