I have a son who died.
Death.
It fucked up a lot of things.. everything.
It made me see things differently.
It made me hear things differently.
It made me say things differently.
It made me think in ways that I never before have.
It made me feel things I never wanted to feel.
It changed me.
It broke me and then stood there and watched as I attempted to gather what shards remained scattered in ashes.
I am still waiting for the phoenix to rise, and perhaps holding dare I say, hope, for such wings to unfold.
Amen…
Holding hope with you!
Love this. So freaking true.
Yes – beautiful, haunting words.
Trying to hold that hope for you in the midst of this shit storm. I agree with those sentiments entirely. Life has been a real a-hole to us. Time for us to relinquish some of our spark. If. When. Ever? Dare I say the word. We Hope.
So true, Leslie, every damn word. How I wish it weren’t so, for all of us. I wish we could simply know the love for our children without any of this pain or other collateral damage. Sending love and light and hope your way, tonight and always. xoxo
Yes Leslie, to all of this. I feel like the only way that my phoenix will rise is if I have another baby. But with no womb and no 30 grand, that can’t happen. And if that can’t happen, how can the phoenix rise?
Love and light and remembering your Cullen always. I wish you didn’t see, hear, say, feel & think things differently. I wish we all still lived in our safe little bubbles. xo
Love to you my friend and trying desperately to hold on to hope with you~
I hear you my friend.
xo
Beautifully written, heart achingly sad. Holding on to hope with you and for you xo