I ran into in an old, very dear friend today.. We have know each other about 25 years.
She lost one of her son’s 15 years ago in a car accident. I trust her and I know she would never tell me anything that was not truth. I have watched this woman grieve all these years and never understood her pain until now. I felt ashamed for a moment that I have not been there for her more over the years.
We spoke about how I was doing almost a year in. She asked about Wolfgang as well. We talked about her boys and how they were getting on.
With the lovely smile she has had all of these years, she said something I so needed to hear. “It will get easier” The pain will never go away, but it does get easier to get through the days.
Now, this did not make all things right with the world by any means, but it did give me something to hold on to. Hope… Hope that there will be joy again, laughter in our home and a future to look forward to.
The thing is, I am a shell of who I was before. I can go through an entire day and remember none of it when the evening comes. I wake and I sleep. That’s all I can process right now. Maybe for the rest of my life, I don’t know. It has been almost a year and I am totally just as lost as the morning he died.
I almost did dot post this. It is the harsh reality of the loss of a child. The pain never goes away, and it gets worse as the time goes by…
I am lonely even when I am around people. I feel like I am just coasting along until I don’t have to. I wonder if I feel like this, so low, so depressed that the thought of not continuing this life is only put to the foreground because of what I know it would do to those left behind. If I have gotten to this point, how bad must things have been for my Arthur? How desperate must he have been to not come to me, not to give someone a chance to help him. We talked about everything, he and I. I will never understand. This is my nightmare..
Sitting here in the waiting room at our pediatrician. A few things are painfully obvious….
1) Wolfgang is extremely tall for his age.
2)Children have no manners
3)Artie is not here….
I was thinking yesterday about how hard I try to stay positive and not let Artie’s death define me. But it has become who I am. I am the mom that has lost a child. Thinking on this I realized that the external me has not changed, except for the fact that I have aged 10 years.. What is completely different are my heart and my soul. My heart is broken, never will it mend again. It will never beat as it did before, always skipping at the thought of my loss. My Soul, is not so much different as it is just more in the forefront of my life now. It is like I can feel that my Soul is a seperate part of me. The part that survives this horror because it knows that death is not really the end. My Souls gives me comfort when I cry, pushes me forward when my feet won’t move and gives me unconditional love when I do and think stupid things. My Soul is my connection to Artie. The part of me that knew his Soul before he was ever born in this life. The part of me that loved him always, through out time. Our Souls are all we come here with really, and all that we keep when we leave. The physical form we take is but a temporary vessel for the life we choose. So, as the physical me dies a little each day, my Soul will continue to thrive and prepare for the next journey….