all too well
I promised to share everything.
Not just the inspirational quotes or the moments that somehow glow through the cracks.
But moments like this, too.
The ones that feel like they might break me.
Evenings are the hardest lately.
Cassie cries, sometimes for so long my body starts to ache from just hearing it. We wait for her meds to settle in.
We rub her head, we hold her, we sing to her. We play her Taylor Swift lullaby playlist on repeat because it’s the only thing that brings the tiniest bit of calm.
And even then, her little whimpers still cut through the chords.
Watching your child slowly die in front of you changes everything.
It changes how you breathe.
It changes how you love.
It changes you.
There are moments, too many, when I sit on the floor after she finally falls asleep, and I just… cry.
Not softly. Not gracefully.
It’s the kind of cry that comes from somewhere buried in your bones.
Because part of me is dying too.
I think to myself:
Why her?
Why me?
Why this story?
I know I’ll never get the answers.
But the questions still scream.
I’m her mom. I was supposed to protect her.
And I couldn’t protect her from this.
There is nothing okay about this.
This is not fair.
This is not how life is supposed to go.
And yet, this is our life.
Some nights I stare at the shattered pieces of my heart scattered across the floor.
I count them like they’re puzzle pieces, wondering if I should even try to put them back together.
Would they even fit anymore?
Do I even want them to?
Because this feeling, the one of deep, echoing grief, it’s starting to feel too familiar.
I know this feeling all too well.