Hello, #HiveWorld! I seldom post an article on the #Hive platform, yet whatever I do, I miss blogging. Here I am today, sharing my thoughts with you as today is my son's 1st death anniversary. Bare with me as a mother spilling out her grief for her lost child.
The vibrant hues of life become muted as the weight of loss descends upon me like a heavy fog. Every breath seems laborious, and every second serves as a reminder of what has been lost. The anguish of missing someone who has passed away is unmatched, leaving a void that can never be filled.
Though he is no longer with me, the memories of his warmth, smiles, and laughter cling to me. It is impossible to ignore his absence; it is a continual reminder of the emptiness he left behind. I discover myself meandering through the chambers of my thoughts, seeking glimmers of his existence, only to be confronted with the sobering fact of his demise.
His strange methods of bending and twisting time make it hard to imagine living without him. I hold on to the times I spent with him, the memories we treasure, his gentle murmurs, and the aroma of his scent. I am deeply connected to my son and I miss these memories, which eventually form who he is.
His whispers broke the stillness. Through the shadows, his smiles are visible. I wish he could have one last laugh, one more minute together, one last talk. Regretfully, those incidents are now permanently ingrained in our past together.
The outer world continues, unaffected by my suffering. The time marches on unabatedly, the seasons shift, and the setting sun disappears. For me, though, time has stopped. I am bereaved of the memories I am incapable of making and replaying the times I loved, caught in a never-ending cycle of sorrow. The small things, like a fading picture, a worn-out chair, or a treasured book, can bring me comfort.
These material treasures let me feel short-term feelings and tranquility by bringing me next to the one who I missed. I treasure the memories along with the affection he has created; in turn, I stay on to these keepsakes.
As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, the ache evolves. It's no longer a sharp stab, but a dull throb, a constant companion that shadows my every step. I learn to navigate this new reality, to find ways to honor his memory and to keep his legacy alive.
In the stillness of the night, when the world is hushed, and my defenses are down, the longing becomes almost unbearable. Tears fall like autumn rain, washing away the facade of strength and revealing the vulnerability of my soul. It's in these moments that I confront the depth of my loss and the profound impact he had on my life.
And yet, even in death, my beloved son continues to teach me. He shows me the beauty of resilience, the power of love, and the importance of cherishing every moment. I come to understand that grief is not a sign of weakness, but a testament to the strength of our bond.
As I journey through the landscape of sorrow, I begin to find ways to heal. I create new rituals, new traditions, and new ways to honor his memory. I learned to smile again, to laugh again, and to find joy in the memories I share.
Though he may be gone, his presence remains, a gentle whisper in my heart, reminding me of the love we shared, and the memories we created. I hold onto these echoes, these whispers, and these memories, knowing that they will forever be a part of me.
The Legacy of Love
In the end, it's not the grief that defines me, but the love we share. It's the memories we created, the laughter we enjoyed, and the moments we cherished. My beloved son may be gone, but his legacy lives on, a beacon of hope in the darkness.
- Photos are my own
Thank you again for fetching around my blog and allowing me to share with you my unwavering thoughts and unblinking moments. 🌹🕊️ Thank you, #ASEANHiveCommunity, @justinparke, and family, for the unwavering support and understanding of my long silence.🌷❤️
Namaste,
@diosarich 💕🌷
About The Author
A feisty artist and writer who balances her time penning poetry, soul-stirring content, and flash fiction, sketching, and designing by using fresh blossoms, needlework, gardening, baking, and caring for her partially impaired vision Mom after her intellectually and physically challenged son passed away. She explores unexpected views that ignite her zest for life.
