I’ve grieved so hard for so long, I can’t remember what life was like without it by my side. To stay up late, like I am now, and just cry because the hurt you feel (and hide) takes over. It’s my companion, my crutch and my only connection to my little man who isn’t with me. How bittersweet, to have a connection that slowly sucks the life out of you like that.
Forgetting someone you love is like trying to remember someone you’ve never met. The pain associated with those memories is a small price to pay to have them close in your thoughts. Sometimes I welcome the pain, because it’s better to feel something than nothing at all.
I won’t ever have a day where I think of Brayden and don’t cry. I won’t look back and smile at what we had. We had one tragic day. One horrible, inconceivable, wish-it-didn’t-happen day. It sucks. And I know that no matter how hard I cry or how drained I feel after, I will have more days like this. More time between days, but still more days.
I had a son, and he died. I can’t get through that sentence out loud. Sometimes I can’t say his name without breaking down. Usually I can’t say his name without breaking down.
I’m not sure what’s wrong with me at this point. I’m missing my little man so much right now. This time of year is when everyone states what they’re grateful for, and I, selfishly, don’t feel very grateful. Resentful, painful, awful, remorseful…a lot of ‘ful’, but grateful isn’t there. It should be. But, it’s not. I’m angry and have nowhere for it to go.
I feel like kicking something small and fuzzy and adorable. Too bad we’re short on mystical woodland creatures up here.
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