Day after day I sit in silence. There are no more words, nothing left to say, just an unbearable, aching loss.
No phone calls. No Facebook posts. No blog posts or journaling. Just silence.
I'm fine. I say it with a smile. Because I'm done talking about it. The world has moved on, dragging me along with it. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months and I no longer know how many Mondays I've woken up without him.
I go through the motions.
Until something hits me. Hard and fast and suddenly I'm retching again, like I was during the first week. Tears often surprise me. A song, a place, a memory, and the void rises up and swallows me.
I learned long ago that I retreat inward when I hurt. I am often silent in my pain.
Now I have nothing to say. There are no words. I have said them all in the first rush of agony and now I sit silent and alone with my grief.
There is no one I trust to comfort me. No one to share the burden with. Though I shared him with many, he was mine and mine alone. None who loved him as I did.
I remember often the first time I felt him move inside me. That moment when he became real and I became a mother. Just as often I remember the rush of pain when I first knew I lost him. Those two moments inextricably linked in my memories.
Today, mothers are being celebrated with love. I get cards and flowers and gifts and texts. Facebook is full of photos of moms with their children. And I am silent with my tears. I have nothing left to say. Six more doesn't make up for one lost.
They reach for me, a hand rubbing my back, a hug, a head leaning against my shoulder. I am not alone, never alone. They watch me in my grief, always watching. Tears are their new normal. As is watchfulness.
Sorrow and loss wrap my life in silence.
I am here. I just have no words left.
