Two Months In ...

It has now been a little over 2 months since my daughter passed away. Over my lifetime I've lost friends, cousins, aunts, uncles, and both parents. Losing a child is qualitatively different. It's difficult to  describe how this is affecting me. I find that allegories help me to explain things. So I'll make one up…

Imagine you have suddenly and immediately lost one of your arms. Infection, or accident, it doesn't matter. It is simply gone. At first, everyday activities seem impossible; tying your shoes, putting on socks, tightening your belt, cutting food on your plate, driving, typing, even walking - everything seems almost impossible. Eventually, however, you learn how to adapt and adjust.

But every time you  perform one of those ordinary activities in a new way, you recognize that you are just adapting to dealing with a loss from which you will never recover. Tying your shoes - you can do it, but the very act of doing it differently than before reminds you of your loss. The same for every activity in your life. Almost every act, every day, reminds you of how things used to be, and how they are irrevocably different today and every day in the future.

And so it is for me every day. Every day when I wake, I know my child is gone. Every day I go to bed, I know my child is gone. Stories, and even commercials, with families or newborns tug at my heart more strongly, because my child is gone. News stories about children lost through accident, catastrophe, or crime are seen differently, with more intensity of sympathy for those suffering the loss, because my child is gone. Going to work, being at work, holidays, being home with my family are all now different because my child is gone.

Personally, I'd rather have lost the arm …