Some days are filled with so much emptiness that it is impossible to feel anything else. It doesn’t creep in like a fog. It slams into me like a car at a crash test destroying a brick wall. The weight of the emptiness is so heavy. How can feeling nothing but a gaping hole inside you pull you down so much? It’s like gravity is 10 times more than it’s supposed to be. And because of it I have to slither around on the floor, unable to pick my body up. On these days, I can barely summon the energy to breathe. Grief is shrouded in so much silence. And that silence is deafening.
When I have a day like this, I can not understand how my baby can be gone.
Today was one of these days.