Continuing the Journey

 I woke last night shaking violently, hyperventilating, and calling your name. I curled up in a fetal position, rocked side to side and told myself repeatedly, “You’re okay; you’re safe.” But the emptiness that surrounded me and seeped into my very soul told me, “No, you’re not okay. You never will be.” I was there on the mountain again, trying to put the pieces of you back together—trying to save you. I felt so helpless and inadequate. I felt responsible. I was the one who wanted to go hiking. I was the one who tried to stop the incessant bleeding. I was the one who failed. I wasn’t even by your side when you took your last breath. You died with strangers surrounding you trying desperately to revive you. I am so sorry that I was not there holding your hand, as I did every night when you went to sleep.

 We are surviving. We move cautiously forward, taking baby steps into the future knowing that in any moment, in the blink of an eye, our lives can drastically change without any warning. We have little to no control, yet we try to organize our lives in such a way to minimize risks. We manipulate what we can, giving ourselves a false sense of security. However, beneath the façade we present to the world, we are terrified, uncertain, and longing for some semblance of sanity. We lost so much when we lost you. The secondary and even tertiary losses continue to present themselves daily. Will we ever feel settled again? You were our foundation and safety net. You loved endlessly and passionately. It is truly a difficult task to walk through the drudgery of life without your vivacious spirit to guide us along the way.

God has continued to hold our heads above the water, but I won’t lie. Sometimes I still feel like I’m drowning. Though every day I continue to crawl out of bed and find something to be grateful for. I look for the beauty in this life rather than the darkness that threatens to consume us all. I pray that I will somehow bring joy to someone who needs it. I want others to leave my presence feeling better than before they entered it. That is my goal—to share light and joy even when I do not feel it.

We miss you! We always will, but I know we must continue to live. We do not have the option of giving up, so we continue to strive. We will make it and we have made it. It’s just that some days are a little more difficult than others, especially when I wake in the middle of the night reliving the day I could not save you.