Knocked Down – Grief 68 days

The crashing wave of grief. It’s so torturously random. It doesn’t care when it hits…it just does. Just driving to pick up my daughter and her friends from school, it sneaked up on me and I physically felt knocked to my knees, nauseated, and struggled to hold back the rush of tears I knew were coming. I’d been having a pretty strong day. Until now. Now I just want to scream at the sky and shake my fists. I WANT MY SON BACK!! I want to see him, and hug him, and hold his face in my hands and look into those beautiful blue eyes again, and see the other half of my entire world there. I want to curl up in the corner and stay until this nightmare is over. I want to run to where he is…I want to find him and be there. I want more conversations and meals with him, more vacations with him, more moments of pride in his accomplishments, more dirty laundry piling up in his room, and damp towels on the floor and places to take him, and more wisdom to give him, more everything that should be and now isn’t.

It’s a struggle at times like this just to breathe. That’s no exaggeration. The wind is gone from my lungs and I struggle to fill it back up. Who am I kidding anyway…I’m empty. I poured everything into BJ, and what I had left was dripped into Carly. There’s no space in me that doesn’t need to be filled.

Jesus.

Jesus.

Jesus.

Written by Michelle Love

I'm a mom with a heart split between my child on earth and my child in heaven.