Letter to Shiloh #2

I watch the bricks and mortar fall away from each other, piece by piece. I feel like my world is crumbling around me and I can’t do anything but watch. My hands are tied. My feelings are no longer mine to control. I’m trapped on this rollercoaster of emotions, being thrown side to side, upside down, into loops, all the while feeling sick to my stomach.

Most days I feel like I can’t go on without you. Other times, I have a tiny glimmer of hope where I feel like I can pull through this, that this will make me a stronger, more compassionate person. But these times are few and far between. Mostly, I’m directionless, blindly walking through this ominous pit of darkness, thinking that I’ll never see the light on the other side.

I honestly can’t say where I am finding the energy and the courage to get through the days in the face of such darkness. But having your daddy as my rock, to cry to, to cry with, to lean on, is invaluable to me. The only good that has come out of this tragedy is the renewed intensity of our love for each other. Together, united, we wade through this endless journey of grief and healing.

But I’m re-evaluating life now that you are not here. What seemed so important to me before you left us is so unimportant now that you are gone. My focus has shifted from trying to zealously plan the future, to living for every single moment in the present. Your departure from this world, even before you were able to breathe your first breath, has made me painfully aware of just how fragile and unjust life is.

To be a childless mother is above agonizing. To say it is agonizing, miserable, painful- these are vast understatements. These words are so tangible, so minimizing… the feelings I have are indescribable, no words can do them justice. But all I can ask for is that, over time, the dominance of these feelings wanes so life without you, here on earth, is more livable.