It’s 10am on a Thursday morning. The sun is out. I’m feeling quiet, but pleasant enough as I contemplate my day ahead. I’m slow as usual to get moving. It takes me 90% mental effort and only 10% physical to actually complete any given task…. Things that were once easy have become difficult, and in some cases, non-existent activities in my life now.

I used to take my children to the library frequently. It was one of their favorite places….. With Julian serving in the Marine Corps, and Josie really gone, those trips are almost more than I can bear. The few times I have taken little Maya and Will, I find myself going through a time warp—reminiscing the past. It is all I can do to not tear up and break down as the old times and scenes flood my mind. If I am able to hold myself together, I find I am almost numb to the point of not appreciating the present moment with my two little ones… I am utterly torn. Yet, somehow I manage to pull it off unnoticed.

This is only one such example. I was blessed with a gift for acting. This may seem like a negative to some, but the alternative does not feel any better. At two years out since Josie’s death, the world has gone on and nobody seems to care—much less understand—how bad it continues to hurt. So, I opt for silence and a poker face. Their indifference hurts too much to share my precious memories. Besides, I cannot blame them. It is a pain that only a mother or father that has lost a child can fathom. Even we don’t quite have the means to express our deep anguish and sense of loss… It hurts like nothing I have ever experienced.

I do not believe I could withstand the heartache of losing another child. There are times I feel like my body is already shutting down, and that is when I plead with Father to give me strength that I can continue—for the sake of my other three children, whom I adore with all that is left of my broken heart…That man robbed my precious family of so very much. I cannot and will not allow him to rob us any more. I will fight the fight until I can no longer. 

%d