I am up at 6 am making coffee, my inner voice shouts "You idiot - it's Sunday and who are you up for, the kids?" My inner voice is sometimes a very sarcastic and nasty bugger. I then proceeded to write a blog post wherein again I lament over you my lost Jack. The way I talk about you, well you would think the sun, moon and stars stopped for everyone in the world when you died. Like you were the mechanical wheel of the whole universe that kept it turning . I know deep down that nothing stopped , the rotors kept turning on this well oiled machine called life and the only rust that has gathered are on the turning wheels of my own mind.
My inner voice says again, "Don't you think you should be in a better place by now? How long, how often are you gong to go on and on and on. Enough already for goodness sake; just cry me a river."
I think we all struggle with that inner voice that always tells us how we should feel, what we should be doing, and how we should be acting. Its always been there whispering to us from the time we entered adulthood but after child loss it becomes a loud, overbearing entity upon itself that almost splits us in two. Sometimes I listen to it but other times I fight back rationalizing in every way that what it is saying is wrong. This time I say,
I will cry a river for Jack, I will cry a lake, an ocean and an unending waterfall. I will cry an infinite water supply that runs through all space and time until my world is nothing but a flood of emotion and water. My world is tears and an endless body of water in which sometimes the waves form and the storm threatens to swallow me whole. I have my flotation device. It has mental pictures of my cat and my husband, it has notes on it that remind me that if I drown I may leave others to this same damning fate. I grasp it hard and tread water using Jack's buoyant smile to keep me floating. I tread toward him, I tread and tread until my legs are exhausted and I am breathless. Only his image remains on this tide that keeps moving further and further away from me but the irrational promise of feeling his physical presence again keeps me pushing on. This is my world, my water world.
Maybe someday these tears will dry up, maybe the clouds will part and the water will abate showing green grass underneath. Maybe someday I will be able to see the trees through the storm and slowly the sun will start peaking out until I can finally feel its warmth on my face. Maybe a path will finally clear and instead of treading water I will be able to walk again, maybe jump or even skip. Maybe I will finally catch Jack's image on a breeze, I will see its just a photo and that will be enough. For now the tears blind me, I cannot see far ahead, I don't want to. I am not ready. I live in my water world, I stay a float and that will just have to be. "Cry me a river". "Oh I will and much much more."
My everything I miss you, Jack and Mummy forever
18 hours ago