There
is no depth to sorrow, only a free fall into a deep, dark abyss
If
you are lucky, you find something to grab onto on your way down
Faith
Your
remaining child
Friends
A
partner
A
substance
A
job…anything to break the fall into the blackness, something to comfort you
besides the grief.
Sorrow
is deceiving, the blackness can be soft, an anesthetic from the pain
A
giant Memory Foam to wallow upon until you lose all sense of self and only feel
the sorrow, only relate to blackness
That’s
when we realize the grieving has turned to a way of life, not a way out of the
sorrow
There
are always the memories…that turn dusty from age
When
called forth however, the tears fall afresh, clearing away the dust where the
heartache is genuine all over again.
We
cling to those memories however, exposing our soul to them
Desperately
trying to make them sharper around the edges, forcing them to come into focus,
if only for a moment.
The
memories briefly cast out the darkness, shedding light, healing the wound of
losing a child.
The
sorrow deepens with the awareness that our life goes on
Sometimes
with meaning
Sometimes
not
We
walk a deeper walk
The
morning has new meaning
The
night holds new sorrow
The
awareness of your place in the Universe becomes more acute
Your
anger takes hold
Your
Faith waivers
A
soul sickness permeates
A
thousand regrets bubble to the surface
And
with each one you question whether or not you were worthy of the title ‘Mom’
And
in the stillness of your heart, in the very essence of your being, the answer
is ‘Yes’
The
answer lies in our children’s smile, the lilt of their laughter
The
honesty of their younger selves
The
goodness and light
The
softness of their sleep
Their
unconditional love
The
smell of the top of their little heads that can only be described as ‘pure’
Their
innocent trust
Their
childish belief that all is good in the world
Their
uninhibited play
Their
belief in all things magical
Their
talent; both apparent and undiscovered
Their
scholarly achievements
Their
untainted attitude about how life actually unfolds
If
we had a glimpse into the future – before children – would we have made the
decision not to bear the life of another human being?
To
sacrifice the joy and forsake the heartache?
For
it is our children who hold the ability to wound us most ferociously
Listen
to the silence
Their
laughter is caught there
Feel
the heartache
It
lies right next to Love
Cling
to the memories, dusty or otherwise
They
are genuine
Climb
out of the abyss and find new meaning
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