my raw callous feet. as soon as they touch the cold wood floor when i force myself out of bed in the morning i … remember. i am so thankful for a full nights rest. a chance to breathe. in and out. to refresh and renew. chipping away a bit of the rawness piercing my heart. do i have to move on? how do i? how can i make my feet shuffle through this new day. we go outside to bask in the glorious sunlight and warm grass. it helps, a little. then. i. remember. people have been sending me tender messages. loved ones stop by and bring food, cards. what i really want is to stop reliving yesterday. i want my son. i want it to be thursday when everything was fine. i want my boy to be breathing. i want to move on. we try. we fill ourselves with distractions. spending extra time with our four year old who has seemed to move on. it is so raw. like a wound exposed to the harsh wind. it hurts so much.
day one hundred.twenty.eight