Every day, there are dozens of little triggers. To function, you must mentally or physically walk away from most of them. Once and awhile, though, you step in.
Today, at work, I settled into a repetitive task, and put on my headphones. Listening to music helps me to focus and keeps pain at bay.
Unless, I've course, I've put my Iphone on shuffle, and forgotten all the songs from Cory's service and slideshow are in my song library. Each song that popped up as I worked generated a deep sigh, and a desperate scrambling to the next song.
Except those first notes of "If I Die Young". I have been known to scream when that song comes on the radio in the car. I always flinch. But today, I took a deep breath and let the music play.
Why in the world would I torture myself so?
I am coming to realize why it's so difficult to rejoin the living after losing your child. The pain becomes your last tie, your last tangible connection to her.
These passing thoughts of how beautiful she must feel as an angel or how much she must enjoy being able to fly are merely ponderings. But the tears that scald my face as they fall? They are real. I can see them and feel them as I wipe them away.
When your child is underground, you cling to whatever you have left. Even if it hurts.
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