Sometimes it takes everything in me not to scream.
Other times I scream until my voice gives out.
There is something wrong with my life.
Something (somebody) is missing
I will never have my normal back. I am an empty shell.
Last Tuesday Luke and I went to a Compassionate Friends meeting. Compassionate Friends is an organization that helps grieving parents, grandparents and siblings with the loss of their loved one. We were the youngest by 40 years. We were the only ones there who lost a young child. Don’t get me wrong a loss of a child is a horrible loss, but when they told their stories of how their 50 year old son died I wanted to shout, “You had 50 years! That’s a life time! We had 19 months!” They want you to go to 3 meetings before make up your mind about going regularly or not. Hopefully, next month will be different.
I have also connected with other mothers who have lost children. The conversations I had with these mothers were some the best and worst conversations I have had in a long time. They were good because these women understood how I felt not just about loosing a child, but all the feelings that I have had since then. Yet, at the same time these conversatioms sucked because of the subject matter. No mother should ever have to describe how she found her dead child. No woman should have to tell her husband come home your daughter died last night. This is not okay. I am not okay.
Phoenix loved to play outside. We kept her chalk and bubbles in a crate on the porch. The other day I looked at the crate and the bottom had leaves and cobwebs all over it. Dusty. Forgotten. Neglected. The crate that used to be filled with items that brought pure joy, is now filled with debris. It is a daily reminder that she is not here, but the world keeps moving on. Time has not stopped. One day, people will no longer rememeber Phoenix, simply because life goes on. I will be left with my arms never quite full – my heart missing a piece. One day all will be right again. That day can not come fast enough.