Sometimes you just need to hold on for one more day. Depression can hit at the most inopportune times. It can simmer awhile. You can keep it at bay and then all of a sudden it has overwhelmed you. That’s what happened to me. I hurt my back. Dangit, I don’t want to admit I am getting older, but I am. I see it. I feel it. I know it just by my sincere wisdom. Hey, don’t laugh! You can’t live this long and not know a thing or two about life. But in my mind, I am not old. Wasn’t I just twenty something? I swear I was just starting to have babies – wasn’t I? Now they are 25, 22 and forever 18.

Up to this point, I haven’t thought twice about what I am about to tackle, lift, carry, or reach for. I felt fine that night when I went to bed. I woke up and my back hurt! It hurt bad! This was new for me and I didn’t like it. Laying still with a heating pad for two days was terrible. I don’t do sitting still well. I napped while I laid there. I flipped through television everyone was shooting someone or dying. I had to turn it off. I don’t like television anyways. When I tried to read, the father was dying in the book. I had to close the book. I am so sensitive to death now. I talked to my dog, Bert. That didn’t go well for long. I bundled up, went outside and swang on my porch swing. The tears came out of nowhere. They wouldn’t stop.

Being still is not a good thing in the middle of grief. It’s awful- I think and I miss Riley. I miss all three of my kids. None of my kids are here with me. What I would do to touch, hug, kiss any one of them. Two of them I can touch again. One I know I will never again be able to feel in my arms, kiss and squeeze tight. The stark reality of that hurts worse than the back pain.

With the rest, my back started to feel better then we had snow. I got distracted. Being from the desert, I am in awe of all of this white stuff. I was smiling, breathing a sigh of relief for a bit then I thought again. I couldn’t leave the house with the weather as it was so I thought some more. I couldn’t find anything to move my mind to something else, but sad things, memories, the ache of wanting my boy back. The grief laid on me like a heavy blanket. It is knowing it is not going to get better tomorrow or the next day or next year. What is my purpose? Why am I here to face this every day? All of this was tormenting me.

I fell asleep. I slept deeply. I woke up better. I made it to another day. The snow was melting. I bundled up, found a patch of snow and made a snowman. I laid in the snow and stared at a blue sky with sun shining in my eyes. I enjoyed a moment. Oh the grief was still there, but I felt lighter.

Sometimes you just have to hold on for one more day. Sometimes you have to build a snow man. Collect your energy, build on it, baby it, feel the cold on your hands and the warmth later. Grief stinks.  Those that haven’t gone through losing a child can’t get it completely. I hope that they never do. I don’t wish this on anyone and I’m sorry if you know my pain.

How do we survive this? Like collecting snow in your hands to build up a snow man, build up something to distract you. Concentrate on work, a project, family, something new, something old, something that feeds your soul. Baby yourself. Do not isolate yourself for too long. Find a grief support group of people who know and understand your pain. Like patting the snow, take care of you, do what you need to do. There is no shame in your tears, anger, sadness. Face the cold of the grief, it is here to stay. Embrace the warmth of putting your hands in your pockets and thawing out a little bit when you get a break. Know that a lighter moment like that can come and there will be more. You made it through another day.

You can do this. Step back and look at your snowman- what you have created, what you still have in the midst of your loss. First and foremost, you have you and you are worth the fight to survive this. Hold on! You, like me, can do one more day.

I love you, Riley.