I have no words. I want words, but in a time like this they fail me. I want to be able to name this heaviness that resides in my heart. This confusion that plagues my thoughts. This heaviness that weighs down my soul. But I don’t think a word has been thought of to describe this feeling. Because who could have ever nightmared something like this happening.
I want to tell you how my daughter turned eight this weekend. Or something mundane, like how we ran errands. Or even to whine about how I became so sick this weekend that I thought I would have to go to the emergency room. Or something wonderful, like how Elaine came to visit me this weekend and stayed the night for Cady’s party.
But I can’t tell you about these things. Not yet. Because my words are lost in unending sadness and heartbreak. So today, though I may distract myself with work and the sameness of everyday life, I will also mourn. I will fight to keep my tears behind swollen, reddened eyes. I will take deep breaths to stop the sobs. I will say prayers that God ease the suffering of the mothers whose arms are empty and that he watch over my children. I will focus on the little things, because those are the things that pull us through in times like these.