This describes both Zachary and myself. Zachary was destroyed. I don’t know exactly how or why that night last Christmas was the final blow but he was destroyed. Some days I feel destroyed; other days merely wounded. Both are painful, however, I am surviving. I may never fully thrive again but I am still putting one foot in front of the other. For 2015, I have set too many lofty goals and I know I won’t reach half of them but if I can just focus on something, anything, it somehow makes life bearable. I can’t say that the pain has abated over the last year. I have learned to function with the pain. The piercing sharpness of the grief has not grown dull. I have learned to take that sharp pain and let it propel me into determination to be productive. I just keep telling myself that I am a survivor, a fighter; I don’t quit and I don’t back down. I am broken beyond anything I could have ever imagined but the pieces of me are still here waiting for me to figure out how to put it back together. I may never get it all put back together but I really don’t care. Whatever I manage to do, no matter how small, is a miracle in my book. To all the bereaved parents everywhere, we have survived 2014; let’s survive 2015~any way we can, one moment at a time.
Peace and Love,