I thought my children would outlive me. I thought I had years to build memories. I thought …..
Today was a hard day. It has been twelve years since my daughter passed away, and my grief still comes in waves, like a bad storm gusting wind and rain or snow. Freezing my heart and making even the good moments seem sad.
I look around me remembering, wishing, hoping that the nightmare will soon end. But it doesn’t. I feel guilty for the senseless accidental loss of my eldest taking my attention from my beautiful grandchildren and incredible sons. I feel pain beyond belief, paralyzed at times to even speak.
I wake every day scared of losing another child, torn between trying to be a good role model for my sons and allowing myself to grieve, cry and just get through the moment. Those that have been down this horrid path know exactly what I mean. Those that haven’t, give your children a hug, tell them you love them and encourage their dreams and be there for them no matter what or where.
As I write this the tears flow unrestricted. My eyes are reddened, my nose is sore and my heart is broken. I hear my grandchildren laughing and playing and I am so grateful for them. My sons are incredible, they listen to the same stories over and over because they seem to understand I don’t want them to forget their sister.