I wrote this back in 2008 and found it very thought provoking.
“One day you wake up and find your life is like a blank book with no characters and no words just you on every single blank page. It’s the same page after page after page. Blank, lifeless and meaningless. Then one day God reaches down and begins to place pictures and people and a story in your new book of life. But the one thing I haven’t figured out yet it how to feel comfortable. I’m uncomfortable everywhere I go and with everyone I meet. I still have to leave the table when a conversation about everyone’s children and homecoming and prom dresses – how do I get comfortable with this new life. This new book. When all that is around me is reminders of what I lost. People tell me all the time “look how far you have come” or “you took the road less traveled” or “you have so much to offer” – but really at the end of the day, when I’m all alone in my house – it’s the stillness, the emptiness in my life that makes me scream! I don’t like this new skin I live in – I play the part well, but for how long?”
Today I can say that I continue to grieve and live in a space that I did not create. I did not ask for, yet I was given the opportunity to offer hope and instill some level of belief that you can not only survive a loss of a child, but that you can build a life that still has meaning. It does not mean that I still don’t miss my daughter with every fiber of my body. It just means I chose to do something meaningful with the mess.
Until next time,