We who have lost a child do not move on - we move along. We fight to recreate ourselves, to do more than just endure the day. Slowly, over time, we find ourselves smiling, laughing, acting as if the horror had never happened. But the many-times-a-day consciousness of the absence of our beloved child never truly departs. That's what the others cannot understand. They await the day when we will become who we used to be, but that person will never return. However - like the doubled strength of a mended bone or the scar that covers the wound-place - our hearts become stronger. Slowly. We fight and we strive to be more present to our surviving children - if we've been so blessed - and/or to the other survivors whom we love and who love us and so desperately want us to be present to them. It's a long and complex journey.
Barb, mom of Jim, car accident 1999; Tom, suicide, 2007, and two beautiful daughters, and now Nana to Dugan, 15 months