The blank page. It has taken me almost 5 months to get to this stage. 5 months of wishing otherwise, but having nothing but time. Here I am.
When Owen died, I turned to the internet for answers. I looked everywhere. I figured that if I just knew why he was gone, that somehow I would be able to understand. There had to be answers. There had to be some way to alleviate the pain and sadness that my husband and I were feeling. I know now that I will never understand.
In my mind, it is simple: Owen was not supposed to die.
Knowing this – believing this – does not make me feel better.
I know that while I can read the courageous accounts of other people’s tragedies, everyone’s loss is different. Nobody has the answers to make us feel better. Everyone is struggling along their own path. Thankfully, some are willing to let others have a glimpse into their lives with the hope of offering some sort of solace. To let others know that they are not alone. We are not alone.
So with all circles rounded countless times and all other resources seemingly exhausted, I felt inspired to write. People around me keep telling me to. Articles I read tell me to. Other bereaved parents have said that it has helped them. I have known this, but getting started has been a different story. Over the past few months, I have become better (stronger?) at facing my emotions. Rather, they have become better at facing me.
So here goes. Bear with me while I collect my thoughts. They seems to be quite scattered these days.