This is a safe discussion area where families can share their emotions, memories of their children, continued struggles, and anything else that helps ease the pain of simply making it through the day. 
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Posted by Stacy Wurz on 08-Aug-2018 at 05:41:00 EST
Subject: How Does It Feel To Lose A Child?

Grief, like a bad habit screams in my ear each morning I wake and every night I lay my head down. I toss and turn while memories flood my waking and dreaming moments of what might have been. The life I once knew is no longer attainable and I am forced to muddle through the normal activities of a life I am no longer familiar with. I marinate in the stranger that encompasses my foreign body; still alive, but mostly dead. This is what it feels like to lose a child. He was my only child; a dream; a whisper of the boy who showed me the meaning of unconditional love. Only 4 years was I able to hold his hand, kiss his head, dry his tears, and teach him life lessons. Now I am a childless mother, barren in the world, an orphan who lost her entire family in one nap. The day he didn’t wake up, but I did is the day I stopped being who I was. What do I do now, I asked myself in the quiet of my house? How incredibly quiet the house had become. The sordid cacophony enveloped me and forced me into a reality I didn’t know how to make sense of. On many mornings after, the silence was infused by the sounds of my screams, the sobs of my parents, and the lack of hearing his voice shouting at me to wake up mama. Do not tell me the time has come to move forward because I still have not learned to walk. I put on my shoes, dress for the part, and act in the manner I should, but that is all. I will not force my smile to ease your nervousness about my predicament. I’m doing just about all I can do at this moment in these recent times. The whispers around me don’t help as you walk down that hallway pretending he didn’t exist. If you have not been born-again into the life of a mother without her child you will never understand. You can say you could imagine, but I once could not imagine the pain that has carved out the place where my heart used to be. I could not have fathomed how every day since would need a pep talk to function. I use the term function loosely. It’s the worst hangover you ever had and you face the shrill music daily. The problem is, no amount of aspirin and water will make the ache go away. Fifteen months I have been surviving this way wondering if the use of my legs will ever come back fully. Will I be able to smile again without forcing it? Is there a period of time when I will be able to substitute the slideshow of the worst day of my life with far happier times we shared together? I doubt that this gets any easier. I believe the pain of losing my son will stay with me until my last breath. Only then will the length of time we will be together again seem short enough. Until that day comes I will remember my child, speak my child’s name JOHNATHAN, and look at his photo wondering what kind of man he might have been.