September 17, 2015
Today I am held together only by the literal physicality of connected bone and tissue. Who I am, or was, lies in tattered shreds in the place where my soul resided. What’s left is something I can no longer recognize.
The people have gone, the funeral is over, and I am left in silence. A stranger inside my own mind. Who am I now? I’m not sure I even want to know. The broken pieces that are left, the few that he didn’t take with as his light faded away don’t seem to fit together. I’m not sure I even have the desire to try and make sense of them.
They say that I am strong. If they only knew. If they only knew that the strongest part of me that exists today is the desire to just let go and be done. All the fight is gone. Darkness is the only place that feels safe for my wounded soul.
The only light that exists in my world right now is the fiery ache that has burned right into my bones. The pain, like an ugly bruise, pulses where my heart sits. It feels as though it would be less painful to just not breathe than to actually attempt a full breath.
And each breath feels like a bretrayal. How can I exist in a world that now only knows his memory.
I am not living, but exsisting. From one moment to the next, surviving because of the autonomic function of my body. If this painful, lifeless existence has an end, I can’t see it.
I’m wearing a mask to hide the face I can’t show the world. A world that at this point in time I just can’t face. I want what can never be had, and today I am done.
I wrote this a few days after Landon’s funeral. They are words I never intended to share, but as I came across this in my drafts section, I knew in my heart that I needed to share them. I needed someone very special to me to see…while the ache of this loss is monumental and earth shatteringly unbearable, there is life again. And while you may always come back to visit this place on your journey through grief, it is not a place you live. Love you, C. So Much.