Things I Know After the Death of My Child

You won’t recover from this.
People will say you will.
Some will mean it.
Most just need your sorrow
to quiet itself
so they can breathe easier.
But there is no recovery.
There’s only survival.
Pieces of you will try to stitch themselves back together.
But the part that belonged to him?
That part stays broken.
You just learn to walk with the limp.
You’ll see him everywhere.
In the grocery store.
On a bike that’s too small.
In a flash of golden hair.
In a tiny Star Wars tee.
In a laugh that doesn’t belong to him.
It will break you.
And some days, you won’t move.
Some days, the weight will pin you down.
Let it.
This pain is love with nowhere to go.
You don’t have to be strong every second.
You’ll grieve a thousand things that never got to exist.
Birthday candles that were never lit.
Sloppy kisses you’ll never feel.
A cap and gown that will never be worn.
All the lives he should’ve lived
will haunt the one you’re now forced to keep living.
You’ll hear his voice again.
Not always. Not clearly.
But when you’re driving.
Or falling apart in the shower.
When no one’s looking.
It’ll knock the breath out of your lungs.
The sound of other children screaming, whining, throwing fits
won’t bother you.
It’ll wreck you in a different way.
Because they’re still here.
And he’s not.
You’ll want to grab strangers and ask them if they even know
how lucky they are.
Memories will slip.
That’s the part that guts you.
You’ll forget what you swore you never would.
The exact pitch of his laugh.
The shape of his fingers curled in sleep.
You’ll cling to what’s left
and hate how time dares to take even more from you.
People will say his name less and less.
Some will stop completely.
They’ll smile at you with pity,
not knowing you’ve become fluent
in holding back rage
and pretending to be “okay.”
To them,
he was a moment.
A tragedy.
To you,
he’s still the sun.
And you are orbiting his absence
for the rest of your life.
This is what it means
to outlive your child.
To be a mother
with no place to set her love down.
So you carry it.
Everywhere.
Always.