Last night I said, “I cried less today than yesterday.” And I felt like it was some small triumph. But today I go pick up his ashes and I’m not sure how to carry on. I’ve done nothing but cry today.
I cried literally from the moment I woke up to the time I went to sleep. Today was so very hard. I could barely keep it together. And in fact, I really couldn’t. I’m thinking and thinking and thinking. “Why…? Why not…? Am I doing something wrong?” I want so many things. I want my husband to look with love on our child. Instead, we hold one another and cry.
Today is much better. I made it all day until right before I am writing this (now in the evening) before I began to cry. It’s a better day… or is it? Today I buried myself in “stuff”… anything mindless to keep my mind off of him. What a fucking injustice to him. What a fucking waste of a day.
I’m just so damn tired of crying.
I know my hormones are messing with my emotions. But that knowledge doesn’t make this any easier. I called the boss today to say I’d be back to work on Monday. I’m dreading it. I can’t stand the thought of going back. All those faces full of awkwardness and pity. “So sorry for your loss,” as they look anywhere but at me. I took a shower this evening and almost had a panic attack thinking about it.
I hate my body right now. My flaccid belly reminds me of a missing son. My swollen breasts bound tightly so that they won’t leak milk that will never nourish. My healing and painful uterus makes it difficult to use the bathroom. I get dizzy when I stand up or move too quickly. I’m still bleeding.
Oh god! I loved him! I miss him. My heart hurts. My arms ache to hold him one more time. Just one more minute. I will always love him. How do I move on from here?
tara caribou | ©2019
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