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Learning to Live Again is Killing Me

When my son died 2.5 years ago I was given advice on how to survive his death. While those words of wisdom gave me hope and helped me hang on, nobody prepared me for what came after surviving.


Surviving the first year of child loss is like climbing the highest mountain in existence. In the middle of a blizzard. While barefoot. As grenades are being launched at you. When you finally reach the top with your battle wounds, you look around and exhale. You scream from the top until you have no voice left. You have survived the one thing that you thought would, without a doubt, kill you.


But what happens after you reach the top? What happens when the fog lifts and the shock wears off? What happens when you realize time hasn’t made the wound disappear?


I had music blasting through the house this week when Mr. Garth Brooks began belting, “learning to live again is killing me.” Yes Garth. Yes 🙌


Living... everyone talks about surviving but nobody talks about living.


The woman I see in the mirror today is more of a stranger to me now than she has ever been. Pieces of her were lost somewhere during that brutal climb...and now what familiar remnants are left of her I am unsure of? How does she begin to LIVE again?


I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet. But damnit I am determined to because I cannot just exist in this space any longer.


So here I am, hot mess and all, stumbling and falling with hopefully a little bit of God’s grace, trying to sort through the aftermath of the greatest loss life can hand out. It isn’t always going to be pretty but I promise it will always be real.


Welcome to Spaces Between You.


I hope as I begin to learn how to make footprints along this path someone else can relate.