What is hope?

Fall has set in. I see it as the leaves in the trees turn, the wind becomes cooler. The taste of Autumn air with its subtleties, the garden passing into sleep, apples heavy on the trees, daylight growing shorter and night longer.
Your room is as you left it. Entering your space is hard. Where once I would sleep in your bed wrapped in your blankets and pillows trying to hang on to the essence of you, that as I write is fading slowly.
Boxes of your clothing stacked in your room, not to remove you but an effort to preserve what little of you I have left, except in memory.
Oh how I long for you. The smell of your hair, your laugh, that big smile.
As I try to understand the meaning of death, my search has led me down our Catholic faith. God in his mercy and intercession of his Mother that you reside in heaven.
I am unable to comprehend Heaven or hell. I read books, blogs, and listen to the stories of others that have lost a child.

C.S. Lewis once said grief was so similar to fear. Maybe he meant fear of our own Mortality.
All I know since you left is a vast emptiness. Spring and Summer came and went and I barely noticed it. I find comfort in nothing.
Some say it will get better. I want so badly to believe. If I pray enough an answer will come. Perhaps I ask the wrong question.
Service to others provides some meaning. It is not a replacement to being your Mama.
Pain is my companion. My therapist thinks I’m getting better. Maybe it’s the medication that dulls my brain.
I obsessively long to be with you.
I want to leave this place of sadness and go as far away from it as I can get.
Your Felicia holds me here. His pain is as palpable as mine. We’re like two people clinging to each other and trying not to drown. Self preservation is the life jackets that keep us above the water and all I want to do is take mine off and sink to the bottom.
The realization you are never coming back is real now. There is nothing I can do about it.

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