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So it has been eight months now since I saw my dear son alive. I still seem to be riding a roller coaster of numbness and pain. Although it's a gentler coaster now, like one of those rides on the kiddie side of the park. I am so tired of being sad, of talking about being sad, and of having sad stories to tell. Don't know what else to do, though. It won't get any better anytime soon, since B's mom is so very sick. Also, I still miss W so very much, and I don't really want to get over missing him. I want him to be missed forever.


Feb. 10th, 2005 08:17 pm (UTC)
Well, exactly.

It took me TWO YEARS to begin to accept that Greg was not coming back and that nothing I could do, say, scream or pray would make it so.

The gentlest part of mourning is when we pay tribute to the space the dead have left. I can't imagine losing a child, but I am acquainted with grief. It becomes a kinder companion over time.

As for sadness? Bring it on. I'll listen, truly. You gotta right.