These words ring true for anyone who has lost a child. Wanting to die, wanting to live, holding on to the past and facing the future. Thank you, Barb, for such eloquence and truth.
No matter how long I live, I will never be able to write in words what losing my child has made of me. It’s a schizophrenic life. One of holding on and letting go, of wanting to die and dying, and one of wanting to live and living.
I live. He is brought to life. He dies, I die but I live. I want to die, I want to die, I want to die, yet I live. He wanted to live, he wanted to live, he wanted to live, yet he died. I live. I want to die, I want to live. My mind dies, my body lives. My mind wants to live, my body wants to die.
Some days I live in the past and cannot see the future, others I cannot look into the past and crave the hope that only the future holds. I am pitied for…
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