Nine Hundred Forty-Four Days.
Since the very worst day of my life.
945 Days since I last held you.
How does that happen?
How does one go on?
The days have flown by.
For what seems to be for my benefit.
And yet here I sit.
And perhaps defeated.
Some days hating the world.
Here I sit 944 days later.
I miss you.
Thinking of you every single day.
Remembering you as each day passes.
And all the while, inside,
How did I make it
944 days without you?
Meanwhile, longing for you.
This journey has been a beautifully fragile, twisted whirlwind of emotion.
But it has taught me one thing.
It has taught me that life is worth living.
Every second of it.
Because being in the moment is okay.
This beautiful tragedy leads me into uncharted waters but it does not bind me.
I am free.
The loss is strapped on my back like a backpack that I strenuously carry around.
And I’ve got you tucked into my heart. Safely and snuggled in tight.
But I’m free.
I’m not in bondage.
Like I was on that day.
944 Days of learning how to walk again
Because I became reborn.
Into the tragic world of child loss.
944 Days Of Loss.