6 Weeks

Tomorrow marks six weeks. I am not sure why it is significant time, but each Tuesday night I think about December 4th. I replay the day, the night and the early morning hours when Oliver took his final breath. I revisit these moments over and over again, hoping to change the outcome. Willing a different end result.

The shock is continuing to wear off. Permanence is taking its place. Oliver is dead. My identity as caregiver is over. As I grieve my son and daughter, I also grieve the loss of myself. The entire world is open in front of me and yet all I want to do is crawl under Oliver's blankets with a book or podcast. I want to stay within my home where I can envision my children walking, sleeping, laughing. I can still smell them in the clothes hanging in closets. My hands can hold their well loved stuffies. 

I have a clearer understanding of the phrase grief stricken. Battle scarred, run down, mangled. That feels like me. 


Sarah said…
Much love to you and your husband, your family, and pets, as you grieve.

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