Live to the Max

I miss you.

I miss you with a pain that is beyond description.

But…I also miss me.

The version of me that thought a bad day had to do with traffic or a headache.

A past self that could laugh without thinking, “Your child is dead. You shouldn’t be laughing.”

The me that could listen with understanding as other moms discuss various stages of their child’s life saying, “I’m so sad it’s over.” New me screams privately and fueled by jealousy, “You have no idea what OVER feels like!”

An old me that could easily discuss my children and their ages with strangers without the internal conflict that comes along with every possible approach to this discussion.

The me that could look excitedly at the future with so many milestones ahead. Now, every possible joy the future may hold also carries the weight of your absence.

You chose death for you. You also chose death for me.

We both died that day. You, and the old me.

The new, broken me is all that remains, and she isn’t very good company.

I miss me.