They say that when you have a child, it's like having your heart walk around outside your body.
When you lose a child, you lose your heart.
I have always wanted to write, at least since I was 11 or so, and I have always resorted to writing in my most difficult moments. Writing a book about my son's death seemed the only true thing I could do, and I pushed through the pain, because he was worth it. But now that the wound has scarred over, it seems worthless to reopen it. It's not that the pain is gone, but it seems like there is no one left to feel it. There are still the moments of terror, when I'm falling asleep and it all comes to me so clearly that it seems impossible to fall into the forgetfulness of sleep. But I have to believe I can, for the sake of sanity, fall asleep. Otherwise I would have to end my consciousness some other way. And when you do that enough - when you push back those thoughts in order to regain your peace of mind, then you are no longer you. You are just a zombie living out your days. And that is what I am, and why I can't write anymore.