. .”It is the awkward space of anticipatory grief (when you know the end is near) and longing for life to return. Here we meet our darkest thoughts and our deepest hope, and it is in the black undercurrent of life they collide.”..
begin to make plans for their future, I wonder why my kids never believed they should do the same. We are told not to ask, but I can't let go of the questions, "What did I do wrong?.. Could I have done more to help them?.. Didn't I teach them confidence?" I could go on. What happened here?
When momma mothers addiction.
While something stirs within, a roar of silence overcomes the whisper of hope. This is it. The hand is dealt, the time has come, you lose.
Is this a meltdown of sorts? For the first time in my life, I am crying out to myself- not a doctor, not family, not even God. I am internally wailing at myself to wake up, to feel, to live. Yet, I have zero response in me.
Where something beautiful should be, lies a vacant space only filled with the waste of pain. Years of abuse scavenged every last bit of light—a broken mind from a broken heart.
Chasing disappointments that have plagued me for years now, I am somber. There is a sense of grief for a person I desired to be. My sheltered dreams seem unattainable. Life is more about everyone else than me.
In dreams they stay.
A few words on grief and loss.
There was relief
In the final sigh..
When surrender felt
Like breath of life..