I specifically show you this image, and chose my words wisely. I call it a portrait of a Mother & her Son, not, a portrait of a Bereaved mother. Because while Bereaved is what I am, the gravity of this role is lost in phrasing, and you don’t truly see the weight I carry unless I show it to you.
Read MoreThere are too many moments of heartbreak wrapped up in this day, too many startling memories that leave me breathless. Too many moments I’ll never share, not ever. Perhaps that’s the way I’m made, a woman who carries it all deep within, my inner workings fueled by heartbreak as equally as joy.
Read More“These bloom in April every year” he said. “Sometimes at the start, sometimes at the end, you’ll never really know. But it will bloom in April” and he left us to choose.
It will bloom in April.
The month of our boy.
And I want to reach across the void and touch her with my hand, and tell her what I finally know to be true.
Read MoreGuest Writer, Leah Moore
Read MoreThere is an exhaustion that lives in my features that no skin cream can cure, these lines have been earned through trauma & sleepless nights of bad dreams.
Read MoreImage by Jayme Lang.
I remembered how incredibly angry that remark used to make me. I couldn’t believe someone’s shortsightedness would allow them to think I had a choice in living my life after losing my son, to think I had a choice in putting one tired & broken foot in front of the other, and I would silently hate them.
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