“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me.” It’s a lie. Words can kill you as surely as any bullet. Not as fast, maybe, but without a doubt.A two o’clock call in the morning killed me.

Granted, I still walk and breathe. I go through the daily functions of life. But I am a corpse. My life and everything I held dear rushed away on icy words.

Funny how the world just goes on but you are so hollow, so lost, so numb. Things that once made you laugh now slide off your perpetual empty stare. Food no longer tastes. The lead cloak of death has wrapped around you and weighs your physical body down so that every moment takes ages to complete.

Others try to fathom it, try to cajole you back to yourself, pity you and give you every kindness as you hate them for it even though you know they only wish you well. You want to be left alone and wait for the darkness to take away the grey and the pain.

Only one who has experienced it can understand the depth of it. These words do it little justice. There is no comfort to be had, no shining angels to swoop down and lessen the awful pain of losing your child. There are no answers though you spend all your time seeking.

Faith does not bring them back, nor does the offer of giving yourself in their place. Everything you do to bring them back is futile and you see their face when you least expect it, in crowds, in passing cars, in your mind’s eye each time you close your eyes.

You suffer in silence, long after others have come to grips with it and put it away somewhere. They don’t understand why you can’t, and why you can’t heal. Some come to despise you for it and think you are playing on their sympathies and it changes nothing.

Your light is not on and never again will it burn as brightly as it once did. At some point you wake up and find that you can function again but that abyss is always just on the fringes. Your world has unquestionably changed and you look through different eyes.

Love heals part of the gaping wound that is left. Learning to love again is a salve and someone loving you in spite of your being broken gives back a lot of your soul. I apologize to anyone who reads this and their pain is still fresh, or anyone who has learned to cope by different means.

This is my experience, and I in no way criticize or downplay anyone else’s. This is just me trying to cope and stay away from the edge of that dark hole I once lived in. Writing about it somehow helps me to stay somewhat saner and makes the hole in me a tad smaller.
Bobby W Lee

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