An Open Letter

It's not my job to hold your hand and help you through my grief.

It's not my job to consider your feeling while I grieve. 

It's not my job to make you feel comfortable after I've lost my child.

My grief doesn't end when yours does.

My pain doesn't go away when yours does.

My life doesn't go back to "normal" like yours does.

I won't ever go back to being the person I was before my great loss.

You... You will move on quickly.

Your life will continue just as it once did.

You'll have days,

Weeks,

Months,

Maybe even years where you won't even think about it.

You will be whole again.

I will hurt long after your pain has ended.

I will mourn long after you've moved on.

There will always be a huge piece of my heart missing.

I will never be the same as I was before.

Because my world was flipped off its axes.

I won't be able to see the world as I once did.

I won't be able to do the things I once did.

I won't enjoy the things I once did.

The sun doesn't shine as bright.

Ice cream doesn't taste so sweet.

The cold isn't as cold as it once was.

I can't help you understand how I feel.

I'm confused and don't know up from down.

It's not my job to help you through your grief.

It's yours to help me.

And if you don't want to that's fine.

I don't have the energy to reach out to anyone anyway.

I'm tired.

I'm always tired.

I'm sad.

And I'm angry.

And I'm just really really sad.

I can't think of you while I struggle to live each day.

I can't help you when all I can do is cry.

I can't be the friend that you need me to be.

You have to be one for me.

You shouldn't stay away because it's hard for you.

It's harder on me.

The person you thought you knew died with my child.

It's a major life change to comprehend.

It's a major life change to live.

You can spout all the stereotypical lines you want  but they won't help me.

Be gentle on me for my heart is broken. 

** I wrote this as a grieving mother speaking to those who have not lost a child. It's to no one in particular, yet to everyone. I'm still struggling with my words, spoken and written. I find I fumble more than I succeed. I'm struggling always. Life will never be the same without my son. I will never be the same.