Sometimes I feel like one of those hollowed out Easter bunnies. You know the ones. They have outer shells of varying thicknesses, but have a hollow space inside.
It seems as though life wears my outer layer thin at times. Circumstances, stress or events take chunks out of me or wear me down. I worry about the hole inside of me showing when stress overwhelms me. I worry about not being strong enough to handle what I need to handle or being able to do what I need to do to the best of my ability. You see, I have a hollow space in my life that nothing else can fill.
Most people are probably not even aware that it’s there. New people I’ve met don’t know my story and don’t know how Jason’s death impacted and changed me so greatly. They don’t know that I have a huge hole in my life. They don’t know that the “me” I am now is nowhere near as strong as the “me” that used to be before Jason died. People I’ve known for a long time assume that I’ve “healed” or perhaps filled that hole with other people or things. They would be wrong.
A child’s death leaves a hole in a parent’s life. That’s all there is to it. It gradually recedes out of public view as time goes by. But that doesn’t mean that it ever completely goes away. It doesn’t keep me from living my life, but it’s always there – sometimes closer to the surface than others.
I will always miss Jason. I will always feel like there is a space in my life where he should be, a life he should be living. I hold him close in my heart. I just wish I could also hold him close in person. I wish he were here instead of just a hole in my life where it seems he should be.
© 2013 Rebecca R. Carney