Those Days - These Days

When words just don't say, and things don't change. When their birthday comes and goes, and from that you face the anniversary of their death. But nothing changes. Not really. Others have such inspirational stories of someone who lost a child and went on to "live." When you KNOW someone who lost a child, and they tell you "that very few people will understand how you feel." Still nothing changes. One day seeps into another. Work is actually quite the relief because you're too busy to remember. When apps like Tik Tok fill the void at night so you don't have time to remember. Because remembering hurts. My husband changed the bedroom in his home. Took the bed to a niece. Put things away. I keep the door closed when I'm there. At my house I prefer his bedroom remain unchanged. The door open, the room dark, I walk past it as if there were nothing to see, to change. If I go in, I go in quick and I leave quick. Put something down. Pick something up. Any chance to linger and I falter. I fall. I fail. I wail. Nothing changes. The missing is as deep as my heart, as wide as a mountain, as overwhelming as a rush of water flooding, as quiet as the midnight on a dark road. Nothing changes.