It’s always the same. As I begin to wake up in the morning my heart starts to race. It becomes more and more intense, pounding and pounding until I feel it in my ears. A cold sweat breaks out all over my body. Something is wrong. I’m not fully awake, not fully conscious. I’m not sure what it is but I know it is dreadful. And then, it is there. He is gone. I open my eyes and cry. My heart breaks like I have just found out. He is gone and I feel alone in the world. My rock, my cheerleader, the person who made me believe I could do anything is gone. How can I go on? It’s a pain that grips you right in the chest. My heart aches like I have been punched. I lie in bed and let myself weep. Somehow, the day must go on. “Get yourself up, Tina”, I say. I sit up and see the pictures of him on my desk. I smile. He was a cute kid. I look at him, 4years old, squeezing my grandma’s neck. I remember THAT moment. I focus on the joy. I put my slippers on, take my medicine and tell myself, it’s time to go on with my day.
Holding on to Harrison
Wandering thoughts of a grieving mother...
