I was thinking about death, those whom I've lost and how that changes my life. It's more than just the intense longing for their presence, that is just painful, it's the loss of my past and my future that is so difficult to deal with. I miss my son, I miss my step-brother, I miss my step-father, I miss my father. I miss their presence in my life. I miss their contribution to my life and all the things they brought to the feast. It was their personalities, their lives, their contributions, their love, their compassionate and giving natures that made me who I was, without them I am simply not the same person...and now they are all gone. That makes me wonder who I am. Frankly, I'm just not sure anymore.
I was thinking of when I created this blog and named it.... Living with Loss, I knew I would have to live with this loss, but at that time I wasn't living, I was surviving. It was a goal of sorts… but also a mission to keep breathing. It is only now, over six years since the death of my son that I have begun to know how to live again. The sharpness of those first months and years have softened and the pangs of grief strike less frequently, though when they do they rage with vengeance. What a journey of emotion these past six and half years have been from overwhelming and consuming grief, disbelief and shock, depression and fear, finally acceptance and the incorporation of the loss into our lives. I remember in the first months after Wyatt's death, I would walk through the house and tell myself he had gone on a very long trip to a place far, far away. He was unable to contact me and I unable to contact him. I later learned counselors think this is a poor method for ...
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