I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t know where I am going. I am lost. The supposed tos, should haves, and have tos went out the window a long time ago. If there is one thing child-loss teaches you very quickly. it is that you can not predict the actions of this animal. It attacks in ways you could never have anticipated. For me, hope is a scary word. What do I hope for? I have no idea. Planning is a scary word. How can I plan anything when I am an unpredictable basket case who will never “get over” the death of my sweet baby girl. For me, true happiness is a scary idea, because I owe this to both of my daughters and I don’t know how to do it. I am treading water in the middle of the ocean, no land in sight. What the fuck am I supposed to do?
My grief is changing. I try to no longer dwell or focus on my anger. Not so much because I don’t have reason to be angry, but more because my daughter, my little Bug, was the perfect example of love, innocence, and joy. I don’t want her to become a trigger for anger. I don’t want her to become a symbol for sadness. I don’t want her legacy to be the destruction of my life. I have been trying really hard to cherish each moment, each breath I was able to share with my sweet girl.
Here’s the problem. As soon as I willingly submerge myself into the joyous and magical memories of what I have lost, I can think of nothing else but loss, pain, sorrow, despair. I question myself, my thoughts, my existence. How can the world keep spinning on, like nothing happened? How can that moment, that plays over and over and over in my head, be real? How can this world take someone so sweet, and funny, and amazing, and precious away from me?
As the anger leaves me, I am left with just the pain. From head to toe, every cell, every atom, aches to hold my sweet baby again. I see the light my baby is trying to show me, but I just don’t know how to get there.