Saturday, September 13, 2008


I had a great big cry for Thomas this morning, which is something I haven't done in a while. It always amazes me that my loud, angry, weeping grief is still so easy to access.

Admittedly, sometimes it shocks me a little too.

It makes me feel like the only thing between the composed, healing, functioning me and the open wound of my sorrow is a thin layer of gauze.

I don't feel like I'm walking the razor's edge. I don't feel especially weak. I don't feel fragile. But the truth is, that deep pool of sadness is still right under the surface just waiting for me to peel back the film and find it again. The rawest, most primal agony.

And then my heart screams for my son.

When it's finished, I lay the gauze back down, dry my tears and carry on.

I suppose that's the anatomy of a sorrow that can't possibly ever end; an infinite black pit with a gossamer cover.


Sherry said...

Just know that I understand.


AnnaMarie said...

Oh! I'm so sorry.

I so wish there were a bottom to the pit, but it does seem like as soon as you feel like you have reached the lowest point it turns out you were just balancing on a thin ledge. I wish there were a defined point in time where we could say "once x amount of time has passed I'll feel like myself again".

But having lost something you loved so much how could you ever return to "normal"?

You are in my thoughts.

Rosepetal said...


stat763 said...

thinking of you...

Allison said...

I'm so sorry. I wish I had words of comfort, but I don't think there are any. You are in my thoughts.

B said...

The pool of agony will always be there I suspect. But it's that last little bit about drying your eyes and carrying on.

That you are able to do that that is the measure of your healing. Not the you keep collapsing, but that you get better at getting up.

I think