The Weight of Loss

The weight of loss is oppressive, like being trapped in an endless, suffocating night. While the world continues around me, I feel an unmistakable stillness, as if a part of me has been forever anchored to that moment of loss. The vibrant hues of life now seem washed out, replaced with shadows of a life once lived.The world carries on, but it's like I'm observing it through a hazy barrier, detached and distant. Looking at the sky for answers, twinkling lights. Whispers of a greater purpose.

But it's the memories that are the most tormenting. Every smile he flashed, every innocent laugh, every whispered secret, and every shared adventure, they play in my mind on a loop. There's a deep-seated fear that over time, even these precious memories might fade. What if I forget the exact melody of his laugh, or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled? What if the recollection of our conversations, the holidays we took, or the simple moments of shared silence become muted in time?

The thought of losing even a fragment of these memories terrifies me. They are the last pieces of him that I hold onto, the remnants of a bond that was deeper than any other. He wasn't just my child; he was my confidant, my partner in crime, my best friend. My everything.

The pressure to carry on for the sake of others is immense. They look for signs of recovery, hoping to see a glimpse of who I once was. But behind the mask I wear for their comfort, there's a tumultuous sea of grief and the desperate hope that the memories of my son, my sun, remain undimmed by time. You carry on because you have to, because if he were here I would tell him to do the same.

Grief is not temporary, it's a slow burning flame that flickers in your soul, swaying back and forth. My journey is not over, my path still unfolding. Carrying this burden is heavy, the weight is palpable. I think of your strength baby boy, choosing to get up another day to carry the torch of the life you might have lived.

Forever your Mom and best friend.