Broken

Soon after my son died, people would tell me it’s okay that I’m not okay. Of course, I’m not okay! I will never be okay with losing my son. 

As time went on, I realized I was “broken”.  Broken is defined as having been fractured or damaged and no longer in one piece or working order.  I am broken. When my son died, I immediately knew I would never be the same again. The pain went too deep and completely consumed me.  For a long time, I was certain being broken meant a life sentence of grief, negativity and despair.

Being broken has changed my perspective on so many things. Life, love and people cannot be taken for granted.  I always knew, but have now come to more fully understand everyone deals with grief.  Grief comes in many forms.  From the loss of a loved one, loss of a job, loss of a relationship, loss of physical and mental capabilities, loss of a pet.  The list is endless because grief can only be processed in an individual way.

It’s been seven months since my son died and I ALWAYS want to be broken. The brokenness allows me to feel every ounce of love I have for my son and feel every second that I miss him.  I never want those feelings to go away.  Sometimes my brokenness is easier to handle than others. Some moments I cry inconsolably and other moments I’m surprised to find myself smiling, maybe even laughing. 

I am fractured, damaged, and no longer in one piece…but I’m trying to find my way.  Even though I am broken, I look for peace in knowing my children are on a good path, find joy in kissing the squishy cheeks of my grandkids, feel contentment holding my husband’s hand…and love the warmth of the sun on my face.