I will not get used to the fact that my son is beyond my reach. I have come to a certain acceptance of it as fact, and acknowledgement of the truth that I cannot change that fact.
The pain hasn’t become less painful, only more familiar. It doesn’t surprise me as often when it pricks my heart anew.
The world goes on. I am a tiny speck in the greater scheme of things and my heartache hardly merits any pause in the machinery of the cosmos.
I have learned to put on the face I need for everyday tasks and to look the part of a functioning human being. But just beneath the surface is a cauldron of emotion that can be exposed in a heartbeat.
I miss my son.
I miss the part of me that was reflected back from the mirror of Dominic.
I miss the family we used to be.
I miss the past when there could be a whole day of laughter without a single tear.
I miss the children I used to have-the ones who knew nothing about irrevocable loss and breathtaking heartache.
I know I’m indulging in selfish introspection and that I should be looking with faith-filled eyes to the glorious future God has promised through Christ.
But today I just can’t.
I won’t be guilted into trying to pretend that I don’t miss all this.
Because I do.