Day 201

**Sensitive Content Warning**

Loss of a child & suicidal thoughts

Day 84:

Tik tok

The clock on the wall mocks me. With every passing second, the darkness grows, weaving its way through my veins until I’m ice cold. 

I wish I could tell you that I’m better now. After all, it’s been months. 

But how do you put a time limit on grief? How do you tell someone to “just get over it” when despair runs this deep?

Tik tok

The microwave beeps at me, and I force myself to remove the twice-reheated coffee. Setting it on the counter in front of me, I go back to staring out the window. 

The sun is shining for the first time in weeks, but its golden rays do nothing to thaw me. Even the birds are singing a haunting melody.

Turning away from the spring scene before me, I walk back to my dark bedroom, abandoning my coffee on the kitchen counter. 

Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. 

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Day 112:

Your dad coaxes me into the shower. With painstaking gentleness, he untangles the mats in my hair. I know he thinks that this will make me feel better, but something that should feel so intimate feels so hollow. 

Once I’m clean, he turns off the shower and draws me a bath with my favorite bubbles. He says I can relax…it’ll make me feel better. He’s going to go change the sheets on the bed.

I sink down into the warm water, wondering what it’d be like to slip under and let the water envelop me. But instead, I drag my hand back and forth through the bubbles, watching them pop at the contact. How lucky are they that they don’t have to exist one more moment in this world?

Your dad emerges once again and gives me a soft smile as he sets clean pajamas on the counter for me. Helping me out of the tub, he rubs lotion into my skip, helps me dress, and tucks me back into bed. 

I’m joined by the cat, who curls up next to me. The only one who doesn’t judge me for being sad. The only thing she cares about is a warm body to sleep next to. 

Rolling over on my side, I pull the covers up to my face and let the darkness rock me to sleep with a woeful lullaby. 

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Day 126:

I thought about ending it all today. The darkness beckons me home, and I’m exhausted.

But your dad thought we could use a day together, so I guess it’ll have to wait. 

He brings me breakfast in bed. All my favorites. A single daisy smiles at me from the small vase on the tray. The first one of the season, he tells me. 

I manage to pick at the chocolate chip waffles and take a small sip of the iced mocha before I feel the nausea take over. I push the tray away. That’s enough food for one day.

I look at your dad as he pushes a waffle piece around his plate. I’ve upset him. The thought suckerpunches me. 

“You can pick a movie,” I whisper.

He looks up at me in shock. Probably because it’s the first thing I’ve spoken in weeks. A smile spreads across his face as he reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze.

After he takes the breakfast trays back to the kitchen, he picks out my favorite movie before joining me back on the bed. Reaching around me, he pulls me to his side where I curl up against him.

He strokes a hand over my hair, and we both get lost in the movie.

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Day 152:

I’m still here.

In fact, I’m sitting on our back porch in the shade, an untouched glass of iced tea dripping condensation onto the table next to me.

Your dad thought that the outside would do me some good, so he settled me into the comfiest porch chair with my favorite book as he went about doing yard work.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in the smell of fresh cut grass, and the tiniest little spark inside comes to life.

I give your dad a wave and the smallest smile. The grin he gives me in return could light the whole world. I can feel the darkness recoiling with every moment I spend in the fresh air and sunlight. 

That is, until I look at the swing set. I can still hear your laughter filling the air as you go down the slide again and again. 

The shadows bodyslam me as the icy coldness spreads over me like a blanket once again. Whatever little piece had thawed froze over once again.

Your dad’s eyes follow my gaze, and he turns off the lawnmower. But before he can reach me, I stand and return to the house, retreating to the bedroom once again.

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Day 163:

Your dad finds me curled up in your bed, clutching your blankets and stuffed animals as the sobs rack my body.

I barely feel him slip behind me, wrapping me in his arms as his own grief overtakes him.

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Day 187:

I’m taking a walk today. 

As I walk through the garden, I’m amazed that your dad was able to keep up with it. His battle against my demons could have been a full-time job alone. 

The southern sun beats down as I wind my way through the patches of flowers and vegetables that had been so lovingly tended. Butterflies dance across the leaves, and bees hum a cheerful “hello” as they buzz around me, eager to get to their destinations. 

But despite the sunshine, the shadows still hover, caressing the edges of my mind, waiting for me to let down my guard. The icy chill remains as a constant reminder that this sunshine won’t last.

Tired of fighting, I let the smallest shadow cloud my world, but for the first time in months, I don’t let it overwhelm me. 

Reaching down, I pluck a small sunflower. Lifting it to my nose, I inhale its sweet scent as the tears begin to fall.

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Day 200:

Dear Charlotte, 

I failed as your mother. 

I was supposed to protect you from all the evil in this world, and I failed. And my punishment is a present darkness that won’t release its hold on me. 

How am I supposed to keep existing in a world that you’re no longer a part of?

If I joined you, then this pain would end. We could be together…

But how am I supposed to be that selfish? 

There are moments when I can still feel you here with me. I see you in the dust that floats in the beams of sunlight that filter in through the window. I see you in the butterflies that dance around the garden. I smell you in the flowers decorating the yard…all of your favorites. On the wind, I can hear your sweet laugh.

And oh, how it aches. 

But in the darkest moments, I can hear your small voice telling me to keep going. 

I know how you loved happiness. I know that’s what you’d want for us…for me…now. 

And so I’ll keep trying. 

My sweet girl…

Daddy and I love you very much. 

Love,

Mom

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Day 201:

I walk through the empty graveyard for the first time since…

Taking a shaky breath, I step off the sidewalk and walk through the grass, around the weeping willow, and stop in front of a small headstone.

It was all we could afford…you deserved better. 

I sink to my knees, and even the clouds weep with me. 

Sitting in the silence, I let the tears fall as the rain touches the earth. And despite the autumn chill, for the first time since you left, I feel the ice leaving my veins. 

I let the rain fill the cracks in my heart, and as a single ray of light breaks through the clouds, I feel the darkness release its hold on me. 

You’re here…

I let out a laugh as I feel your presence surround me, the sound of your giggles being carried by the late autumn breeze. 

Unclenching my fists, I reach into the pocket of my raincoat, pulling out the letter. 

And with a small smile, I release the note into the wind.