Eleventh Hour

We count the days, weeks, months and years. We don't mean to, but it has become a part of our DNA. Eleven months, just another day to most but we who grieve. We look back not because we want to but because our hearts are drawn in that direction. We see the day before, the day after, the day itself. Heart-ache is not a beat away for it has never left.

Validation

One of the many things I find within myself is the need for validation. The need to have my son's life mean something, the life I had with him to have purpose. There are days, when the anger rules, that I pace and ask myself what was the purpose of giving him life when he would be gone again so soon? Why love so completely and have it ripped from me?