When it first happens, you are overwhelmed and all the experiences you are being cheated out of having with your child come in large scale form: their graduation(s), their wedding, the birth of their child(ren), their loving face looming over yours on your death bed. That is the way it was supposed to go after all.
When the shock passes, and especially if you've already missed some milestones with your child due to chronic mental illness, the stepping stones you have also missed come to mind: watching your child learn to drive, seeing your child get their first part-time job, holding your child against your chest as they nurse their first adult broken heart.
And then once years have gone by, there can be confusion on just what to feel, like this:
feeling strangely guilty when asked how long its been since your child has died. Saying, or what feels like admitting, it's been nearly three and a half years is sometimes hard to reconcile with your lack of ability to function. Shouldn't you be doing a little bit better by now? That's what it feels like when you register that look of surprise on someone's face who must've thought it had happened a few months ago...why else would this girl be such a fricking wreck?
feeling pulled back into the abyss when running into someone in the community who didn't know your child had died and asked casually after your "kids". Explaining with a dry face and no details of the accident may feel like you've cut a cord with your child, but trust me when I say you won't make it more than two hours inside your house before becoming a complete and sobbing mess.
In the thick of acceptance, the little moments plague your heart the most. Will you really never watch another movie with her? Touch her hand? Ever?
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