Sometimes this thought is what gets me through the day:
You existed, you exist.
Sometimes I say it to his photo on my phone:
You existed, you exist.
Sometimes I want to scream it out the window:
YOU EXISTED! YOU EXIST!
My son is not a number or a statistic or only a memory.
He is integral to my story, blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh–part of my life.
I rest assured he lives in heaven with Jesus but I miss him here with me. That’s selfish, I know. But I can’t seem to help it.
I don’t know how to be glad that my young, healthy, brilliant child died-just like that-here one moment, gone the next.
The broken heart of every parent who has buried a child cries out:
My child existed..
He lived.
He mattered.
My child exists still.
He lives.
He matters.
“Can a mother forget the infant at her breast,
walk away from the baby she bore?” ~Isaiah 49:15 MSG
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Very much my thoughts….but I miss my son Joey more than I thought was humanly possible!
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Thank you for writing what I feel. It is my truth, today and everyday. 🙏🏻 for us all.
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Praying the Lord gives you strength for each day, Cynthia. ❤ Melanie
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Beautifully said.
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Amen.
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Reblogged this on Boxx Banter and commented:
The desire of every bereaved heart. My loved one was important and remains so still today, two years or ten years later, regardless of their length of life. . .
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Such lovely words.
Such painful words.
Thinking of you.
x
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Thank you, I think of you each day-it is hard to live without our sons.
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It really is unbelievably difficult.
x
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