The Writing Mamas Daily Blog

Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.

If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.

And for that, you are a goddess.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

 

You Never, Ever Get Over It, But You Try To Move Forward

Sometimes I dream that I am falling.

There is never any bottom to this well.

I am falling into blackness.  In slow motion down the rabbit hole but instead of jars of marmalade and lovely tins -- there are flashes of a life that was supposed to be.

When I lost my son I thought I would die. 

It felt as if my chest was griped in a vice and every breath was torture.  How could one be expected to live like this? I thought about jumping off a bridge.  I am fearful of heights, and there was no bridge high enough to give me anything but a broken leg, but jumping just seemed right. 

I was falling… into despair and depression, and my life seemed like it was coming undone.

I was offered antidepressants, but the cure I wanted was my son returned to me. 

Somehow, I managed to keep going, though the thought of killing myself was strangely comforting. 

Like there was a Plan B, an exit route from the well of grief, that there could be an end to my descent.  There were probably a million reasons and no reason at all why I never went past those dark thoughts. 

I wouldn’t say that I am whole again, but I am mended, like a china cup that slips from soapy hands.  I have been glued back together -- but the cracks remain.

I think about the time I wanted to jump off a bridge almost every day as I drive across one that accounts for so many tragic ends to broken lives. 

I wonder if those people were falling, too.

By Jennifer Gunter

 

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Comments:
Jennifer--
A beautiful, powerful piece. You capture grief so well, and how we never quite get over the loss, but learn to metabolize it.

Lorrie
 
Hi Jennifer,

This was beautiful and honest. Thank you for sharing.
 
I, too, lost a son and feel the worst part about it; the part I will never forgive, is the fact that nobody understood or even tried. I've felt that I'm alone ever since.
 
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