I had never lost anyone close to me.  I had spent hours praying for people in my life who had lost someone close to them.  I had tried to relate to their feelings, but never realized how far away I was from their pain.  I felt sad for them, I cried for them, but grief is much more than sadness and tears.  I scribbled this in my notebook three days after Rebekah’s accident while sobbing on my bed.  It is basically the ramblings of a grieving mother and I didn’t “pretty” it up because I want it to be real.

One day life is fine.  We are playing games, planning trips, picking wildflowers.   My frustration at messy closets and sassy mouths are real, my greatest challenge.

And then, in an instant, it all changes.  A cold breeze breaks the sweat on my skin from the warm day.  The sweet scent in the August air is gone, dread fills my heart.

Dread leads to shock, denial, despair.  My baby girl is dead.  Gone.  Gone before her life really began.  Gone before I could tell her I love her one last time.

My laughter is gone now.  My heart is broken.  My sun forgets to shine.  The every day tasks of washing clothes and scrubbing pans are no longer important.  They have lost their significance.  They are meaningless, empty, worthless.

My heart contains a hole.  A large one.  I say her name and smile because I love her so, but now that love brings pain.  She’s gone.  Her laughter still rings in my ears.  Her energy and love for life are still around me, but I cannot feel them.  I am empty inside,  Void.  Alone.  My baby girl is dead.

The comforting words of others, the hugs, the support.  They make me take another step, they keep me from running back.

My baby cries.  Its time to eat.  When did I feed him last?  Time stands still.  Each minute the same, filled with heartache and pain.

The waves of pain come quickly, washing me from head to toe.  I grab at the sand which dissolves beneath my feet.  I am drowning, crying out for help, but no one can hear me because of the hole.  The hole that has swallowed me up.  Another wave and I cry louder…

I imagine grief feels different for everyone, but this is how it feels to me.

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Heather

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