Thursday, January 12, 2012


Sometimes only one person is missing and the whole world seems depopulated.
Alphonse de Lamartine

In recent weeks, I have been more contemplative in my grief.  Several times, I've placed my fingers over the keys only to find myself lost in thought without a word making it to the screen. 

Many people have told me that it will get easier with time.  I do believe this to be true and I see some of the rawness of my pain beginning to scab as the days wear on.  But, in some ways, the passage of time has been more painful than helpful.  I feel as though I'm moving farther and farther away from William.  As the world counted down to midnight on New Year's Eve, I ached at leaving 2011 behind.  It was the only year he was here with me.

And I realize that William will always be with me in my heart.  But, if you've lost a loved one, you know that there's a difference between someone being in your heart and someone being here with you.  Really here...a living, breathing piece of your life.

I feel the way that everyone feels when they lose someone they love.  I feel that he is missing. I feel like he should be here, and he is not. 

And because he is missing, there is a big empty space where memories will never be made.  No birthday parties or new first words or favorite cuddling or bedtime stories.  

And I'm so thankful for the memories I do have with him, for the brief lifetime we spent together.  The kicks and the singing...the ladybugs and the hiccups...the long drives and belly rubs.  But the feeling that he is missing will never completely go away.

I know I will experience so many wonderful memories with our future children, but I had dreams for William.  There were hopes and dreams that belonged just to him.   

Because when someone enters your life, they make a space for themselves.  A space with curves and corners that no other person can quite fill.  When they are not there anymore, that space feels empty and it hurts your heart.      

So here I am.  Trying to navigate each day when someone I love so deeply is missing.  And I know that countless others are doing the same thing and have done the same thing.  I know that God is still with me, patiently and gently guiding me through this journey of pain and loss.  I know that the acute grief will subside and the sun will shine again. 

But today it is raining.  The sun isn't shining.  No matter how much I wish differently, my William is not here.

And because he is missing
I am missing him
so much


  1. i remember being told, after my trista joy was gone, that grief for a child is different, because not only am i grieving for that person, but for all the hopes, dreams, plans, and expectations that will never be fulfilled. the day i first realized i'd never get to hear her voice, never know what she sounded like, never hear her call me "mama"...i'm getting teary-eyed now just thinking about it. it's a grief that's so complex and layered, and yet so simple and raw...
    and it makes me all the more thankful for a God who understands and remains close through all of it. <3

  2. I wish there were words that could help make things easier. You have written a wonderful tribute to William and your love for him. Wishing you peace.