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There are moments when I wonder what is wrong with me, that I can continue to live, breathe, eat, love, laugh even.

To be so truly blessed, completely and utterly fulfilled, only to have it ripped from you so violently… what does one do in the aftermath? How can I reconcile my loss of joy and purpose? Supposing that I cannot, what reason is there for me to continue this journey? And if I can, and do, what kind of person am I then? A childless mother is but an empty vessel…

I am now a weary traveler… lost, alone, directionless, adrift in a sea of sorrow. Wind blows about me, and waves surround me, but I am unchanged… I remain simply, a broken soul, floating in my memories of her.

Strength is not defined in continuing to live, when all you want to do is die. Purpose is not found in empty days and sleepless nights. And yet somehow, the human condition dictates that I will go on, despite this immense suffering.


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