something i lost

I miss the little boy who would be here now.

I hate the memories I have surrounding his death.

But they are intertwined with the memories surrounding his birth.

So I clutch them like shards of glass.  They cut me open and make me bleed, but I cannot let them go.

I still feel the bitterness of Loss.  The loss of friends, relationships, laughter, and the person I used to be . . . all the things I lost when my baby died.

The weight of the loss is immeasurable.  “Losing a child” is a euphemism, a cop-out.  I lost an entire lifetime of memories.  I lost the rest of my life as I knew it when I was still pregnant.  I lost my innocence, my childlike joy.

In some ways, I feel as if I’ve lost my sanity.  I don’t try for a “normal” life anymore, and I have given up on ever feeling “normal.”  Nice-crazy is now what I hope to achieve.  I’m broken and strange, and a stranger to myself, but I can still be nice, and I hope that the language of kindness that I speak is enough to make up for what is lost in translation.  Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t.  But it’s all I can offer right now.

I love this losing and this loss as much as I hate it, and I hope that someday the love will win the war over the hate.  But each day is a battle, and sometimes I win, and sometimes I lose.  Today I am losing.

On days like these, I sit by the side of the road on my journey of grief, and I wait for tomorrow.

I miss him, but I love the feeling of missing him, because it’s the same as loving him, and it’s that inextinguishable love as a mother that I know I will never, ever lose.

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2 thoughts on “something i lost

  1. Such a beautiful explanation for why this grief is both terrible and precious. “I miss him, but I love the feeling of missing him, because it’s the same as loving him.” I wish you never had to bear it, but crazy-nice is my favourite kind of person. The normals seem somehow simple and dull in comparison (not that I wouldn’t love for us both to be in their ranks). Love this!

    • Thank you so so much. Sometimes it helps just knowing I’m not the only one who feels this way, as much as I am sad that you understand and can empathize in a way that only someone who knows these feelings can. This kind of grief is so lonely, and so much of it is felt alone. Much love to you & yours.

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