What were we found to be lacking, Lord, that you took our baby away so soon and in such a cruel way?
Could we not have been trusted with him for another year or decade?
Were we so much worse than so many other parents on this earth who are still enjoying their children and know nothing of the pain of losing their heart in the cruelest of ways?
Is he still remembering us or has your glorious realm and presence deleted our very existence from his memory?
What am I supposed to do with this pain that leaks like puss from me and makes people draw away?
What can I say and do?
How many times can I say sorry for my sins.
How many times shall I repent for wanting another child?
How will I ever forgive myself for bringing the sweetest child in the world in order for him to suffer? Cause suffer he did, from the very beginning, till the very end.
And it is Sunday. And we should celebrate Your resurrection.
But what about my dead heart?
When will it be resurrected from pain and choking grief and anger and resentment?
When? When? When?
I had 8 weeks without my baby.
And it doesn’t get easier.
It gets flipping harder.
Every single day.
And I have no clue how I will pull through another 8 days, months or years without my baby.
And people seem to expect me to move on.
Even my brother, who never “likes” any of my baby’s pictures on Facebook. Trying to shame me into silence. As if silence ever shamed me into anything.
Even my husband, who ever since he returned from his prolonged holiday, hasn’t said a word, one single f…. word about his son without my prompting. “Move on”, his silence says. As if silence ever solved anything between us.
Moving on to what?
I miss you, baby boy and I will never stop writing about or thinking of or loving you.
NEVER, until we meet again.