This is what I want you to know. I have been carrying this around and I need to put it down.
I am not brave, I am not strong. I am not fine. I am not OK. I wasn’t given a choice and still don’t have one. The truth of the matter is, my brain doesn’t work most days. I can’t remember from one minute to the next. Every second of every hour of every day, Holden is at the forefront of everything.
I am not the person I was when Holden was alive. I died that day too. So did his father and his little brother. The difference being we are left here to linger and suffer without Holden. You may recognize me and feel a sigh of relief – but when I look in the mirror I don’t recognize the person looking back.
Please don’t tell me time heals all wounds. Everything happens for a reason or any other vapid platitude. This isn’t a wound and there wasn’t any reason I can think of that my child could be taken from his mother. I will never heal. It won’t get easier or better. I won’t “get over it,” and I won’t learn any lessons from losing my son. With time, it will only get different.
People are struggling, I get it. The world is off kilter now. At some point if you are lucky, your world will be right again. Don’t tell me how terrible it is that your child doesn’t get to see their friends like they use too before Covid. That you would trade anything to go back to life before the pandemic. That you are sad because your child grew up too fast. That you would trade anything to go back to how your life was before the lockdown.
The only thing I would trade anything for is to go back in time, before Holden died. To change the course of events that took him from us and us from him. You see, when this is over, my life will still be the same. I can’t go back, it doesn’t work that way.
This is a hole so big I am only hanging on to the edge by my fingernails. It’s exhausting both physically and mentally. Every ounce of energy I do have goes to being the best mom I can be to my living son. The best wife I can be to my husband.
Being supportive to a grieving parent sometimes means there are no words. Listening goes a long way. No need to compare in order to empathize. Trust me when I tell you it doesn’t make me feel any better.
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