― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
I often wonder when the pain is going to let up. When I won't find myself tearing up when I think about my boy. When the nights won't feel so dark. When the waves won't crash so hard.
The thing is, grief is bittersweet in a way that every time I hear of another loss, I feel that family's pain. I know the ache that mother's arms are feeling to hold her child just one more time. I know the feeling of walking around in a daze, trying to wake up from the nightmare. The feelings of sadness and jealousy when you see another family with kids the same age as yours should have been. I go back to the day we buried Carter. How I told Danny I wasn't getting out of the car. That I couldn't, this couldn't be happening. I hurt for the things the family is going through and will go through. And it brings back my own hurt.
I don't talk about it as much because in theory, I should be "over it" by now. (I'm not). I'm slowly starting to learn, that as much as I would like for it to not hurt still, it does, and it's going to keep hurting. Trust me, I would love to not feel this ache so deeply. I even get frustrated that I can't not hurt. That I can't not think about it for even one day. I want my heart to be whole again. The hurt is still there and I don't think it's going anywhere.