Trigger warning- Living children mentioned.
He should be two on Earth, not in Heaven. I find myself saying that over and over again in my head. He should be two. He should be fighting me over potty training and fighting with Lydon over their trucks. He should be giving kisses to Sawyer and making silly faces to make him laugh. He should be running away from his sisters, tired of all the hugs and kisses they would most likely be smothering him with. I am constantly replaying our moments in my head with him in it. What would life be like with him here?
I have lived in this odd haze for the last 2 years with one foot forward and the other firmly planted in a life before his death...a life without grief. Grief for a loss parent is very complicated. It is hard for others to understand unless they are in the trenches with us. Our grief is our connection to our child. We don't have a lifetime of memories to soothe our heart when it aches. We don't have vacation pictures or old letters to touch and look at when we need to feel connected. We were still getting to know this little person and yet we loved them so deeply. A stranger we fell in love with before we even knew they existed. And, as quickly as they came into our lives, they were gone. We were left with deep, confusing sadness that seemed like a dream. I have to awaken myself to my reality often because it is easy to let my mind wander and trick me into believing none of this ever happened. The beautiful wooden box that sits within my home and the ache with every beat of my heart reminds me that it did happen. He existed. For a very short time on Earth, he existed. He was beautiful. A picture of perfection. It is so hard to believe that something so incredibly breathtaking is gone. How could this happen? Why us? I often play the last few months of his life through my head struggling to find answers. Was it something I did? Did we miss something? Did he suffer? Did he know how loved he was and still is? How do I carry on without him?
This life has made strangers into best friends and best friends, as well as some family, into strangers. It teaches you the importance of empathy and what it truly means to a grieving heart. It makes you question everything....all your relationships, career, life in general. You often wonder if you are on the right path because none of them seem right with a piece of your heart missing. It is a confusing and emotional journey that requires every ounce of your strength to make it through each day....to get to the next sunrise where you are one day closer to being reunited in Heaven. You have to put your mask on and power through because your reality is far too heavy for those around you. You find your secret group, filled with beautiful mothers with heartbreakingly similar stories, where you can unload your fears and sadness before it eats you up. You say 'I'm okay' more than any person should because it's exhausting being honest. You live a lie everyday because your heart is breaking yet you keep on living. It's the nature of the beast. Grief is ugly and ever changing. Just when you think you have it controlled, it breaks free and attacks your heart. People call me strong....that's a lie. I'm just trying to stay afloat. I do what I have to do for my family but it isn't easy. I don't have the energy to extend to others after I take care of myself and my family. I'm still trying to figure this all out. There is no guide on how to live without your child.
I thank God everyday for my beautiful Earth children and my husband. They give me purpose and keep me grounded. They remind me that I am needed and loved. In the darkest moments, they show me the beauty I possess in this life. Even on days when it feels as if we have more than we can handle, I find those moments of peace where I know we are blessed beyond measure. Such a beautiful, wild, crazy life we have. I wouldn't trade the joy or sadness for anything. This is my life. My beautifully designed life.
