Painful Todays

The past month has been painful.

There have been triggers that I can point to that take up mental and emotional space. Which is already limited for me.

But I think a big part of it is: a settling in and a question.

In my mind this is what I’ve allowed myself to think:

Rory has moved on.

My baby girl passed away.

But I’ve expanded my verbiage to include:

My daughter is dead.

Those all mean the same thing. Different words. But words are important to me and I haven’t allowed myself to use that word much.



They’re final.

My daughter will never walk through my door again.

Done. That’s it.

It’s not a new thought! I’ve been living with it for one year, seven months, and nine days.

What I’ve been getting stuck on is this.

How do I live the rest of my life with my daughter being dead?

It feels endless. The pain. The waiting. The getting by. It’s endless.

How do I live a whole life with my boys when I’m broken with pieces missing?

People do it.

Bereaved moms have reached out to me. They’ve survived decades now without one of their children.

I just struggle to understand how I’m going to do it. My ultimate hope of being with her again is death.

That’s what I’m straddling. My life here with the boys is important. I want to be here! But the life I hope to find in Heaven with Rory is equally important. I want to be there!

I have one foot planted firmly here on earth, loving my family. And one foot ready to jump to the other side.

It’s overwhelming.

I’ve been trying to take a step back. To focus on today.

Love today.

Care today.

Hug today.

Give cuddles today.

Spend time today.

Serve today.

I can make it through today.

Then tomorrow I’ll start again.

I’ll put that on repeat.

Though, I’m broken and not the mom or wife or woman I once was, I love my boys and husband with all I have left.

I can’t foresee the struggle between the two worlds ever changing.

But I’m working to bring a little Heaven to earth.

To include Rory in my work from day to day. To serve and love with her and for her.

Jesus Christ is my Hope.

He lives.

She lives.

With that hope, I’ll make today count.

And tomorrow.

And every day I’m gifted after that.

6 thoughts on “Painful Todays”

  1. I can relate to most everything you’ve said here. I too, find it unimaginable living everyday of the rest of my life carrying this weight; this overwhelming longing to be with my daughter. I’m also torn between heaven and earth, just as you are. I want to live fully for my remaining daughter and I also long with everything I have, to be reunited with my angel in Heaven.

    You are so strong, even when you feel you are at your weakest. It takes a tremendous strength to continue on when you have lost so much of yourself. Sometimes it takes the greatest strength to simply uncover our heads in the morning. You carry a weight so heavy that only those who also carry it could ever comprehend. You are such a strong woman for continuing and wanting to remain present for your family here on earth. It is a constant battle, I agree wholeheartedly. One step, one minute, or one day at a time is all you can expect of yourself after such a loss. It’s okay to remember that.

    I’m sending you hugs from one grieving Mom to another and prayers that we can find our way in this world without our precious children. This is a journey that no one should have to endure.


    1. Big hugs and so much love to you. It is such a hard existence. Yes, the daily weight is hard to explain. Here’s to this second, this minute. Know you’ve got a friend here, loving and praying for you. Reach out any time. 💜💜💜

      Liked by 1 person

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