The death of a child....

I've never done this. I mean really try to write down the kind of pain losing a child really is. I always just say, "When people say it is the worst pain, they are right', but that doesn't really speak to how it feels inside of me at all. It just lets others know that it is too painful to talk about or share.

I'm not sure I can even share it now, but for some reason the loss was triggered this morning with a news story. It doesn't matter what the story was [well it does to the people it was about, but not to what I'm writing], it made me cry.

I made me cry remembering back to when he was alive, and then remembering he is gone. What my life with him was like then, and what it is like now without him. Yes, that is all about "Me", but you see there is no "him" to think about really. No child to worry about, tend to, nurture, or discipline... Nothing to smile about as he takes each step of his journey in life. Nothing. There is nothing. That is the whole point.

Life is so fragile, and we all take it for granted. We all assume that we'll be here tomorrow and the next day. Oh we accept death as a natural part of life, but we don't really accept that it could be tomorrow. It's "someday", not tomorrow. We all do that.

Anyway, back to "Me"...

Back then, I was like anyone else, with a few differences. I was energetic, and enthusiastic about life. I got upset at the normal stuff, and ranted and raved about nonsense such as, "He didn't call me". I can remember that being quite a drama. I had a lover who didn't call. Life was so simple back then. God how I wish to return to that simplicity. Regardless of how juvenile it really was, there was an innocence to it that I wish I still had.

Back then, I cooked dinner, did the laundry, and looked forward to the next day, week, year, decade. I had plans for my future and his. I had a vision. I had hope.

Back then, I believed in 'life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" as if it were some entitlement.

Back then I cursed men and their foolishness as if the "battle of the sexes" were the only conflict in town. I was cuntish, and oh so sure that I knew who I was.

Back then bitching about a 5% raise was the drama for the month, and if I couldn't buy those new shoes I'd just die. I knew I would just die. And why didn't he call, he said he would?

Back then I was arrogant and full of myself.

Back then I was still living in the bubble I created called "My Life". It was safe, secure, and it was MINE. In my arrogance, I thought what was mine, could never really be taken away. That happened to other people. People who didn't take responsibility, or learn from mistakes, or care, or see, or do.. it wasn't ever going to be me. Not ever!

Back then I was young.

Now I am old.

I am so aware of all the empty spaces in me. How much I have really been changed. How far I have fallen from that youthful [and yes dramatic] young woman who ripped through life as if it were her own kingdom.

There are big holes in me now. These aren't the holes of loneliness or despair, or even failure. They are the holes left when a part of your soul is ripped from you. It never heals really, it just leaves a gaping hole.

Oh you learn to live with the hole, the same way you learn to live with a scar or a limp. You learn to move on in life. You wake up, get out of bed, go through your routine, and sometimes, sometimes you can even forget there is a big hole inside.

Then you hear a news item or see a TV program, and you don't just remember the hole, you FEEL it. It feels just as raw as it ever did with one notable exception, it feels even bigger and deeper somehow.  I hate it, and love it all at the same time. I hate the pain, but I love how close I feel to him in the pain. I can still feel him, see him, and touch him in my pain.

Somehow that makes the pain endurable.