Grief is all Engulfing

Day 803.

To describe how overwhelming it is to lose a child, I return to the notion of stubbing a toe.

At that moment, one can think about nothing else. There’s nothing else in one’s world at that moment. That “fuck fuck FUCK!” of stubbing one’s toe, is all there is.

It doesn’t mean you don’t like cats in that moment... but the stubbed toe overwhelms every other emotion. The pain overwhelms all other feelings and all other thoughts. 

It doesn’t mean you no longer want to go to Paris, or no longer love margaritas. That pain, that shock, becomes all engulfing in that moment, and that is all there is.

Losing a child is an extended pain of the same all-encompassing intensity that lasts for years.

Haunted by reports from surviving siblings, and how to explain the focus shift to the lost child at the expense of the surviving child, is for me the same. And two and half years down the line from losing Luke, despite all the good in my life, all the successful work on the lukelove project, I find myself still often drowning in the toe-stubbing pain of my loss.

It’s not always as debilitating, but it still catches me, often out of the blue, and I am sent into the depths of my pain, discarding all at once, all the good in my life, and wishing I was not here. Wishing I did not have to feel the pain of surviving my child.

But the truth is, I miss him.

I really, really miss him.

Luke had such energy. Whether he was happy, angry, sad - dancing, driving, singing... he had such an intense energy. Yes, it could be exhausting. But you knew you were alive when you were around him. He could make you laugh, infuriate you, make you proud, and the intensity of him was infectious. For better or for worse.

Missing him is just as exhausting.

I can say that this far on, I miss him more than I grieve him. So many lovely memories are left in his wake, and I find myself smiling in my memories more than sobbing. But just in case you think I am amazing, moving forward, I remind you that the dark cloud of this loss often brings me to my knees, wishing I was dead, despite all that would cost me.

Loving is hard.

Intense love for George and Adam is so grounding, but there is a desperation in my love. A desperation so intense, so pulling, that the draw to live and to die is sometimes equal.