Tears.

The tears I have cried this year could fill a swimming pool. Salty, bitter, sour, acidic tears.

Today, I heard my Son wailing. He just kept repeating, "why can't my life be normal?"

This poor, sweet 11 year old, had lost his Grandmother, normal schooling and now his parents.

The only unit he had been able to count on during all this had fallen apart before his very eyes, and now he was sobbing, now I was sobbing with him.

I am so sorry. I am so so sorry. The pain in his eyes stabbed me. The pain in my own. The knot in my stomach, the anxiety, the uncertainty. I didn't have any answers. Not one.

I just hugged him as hard as I could.

All I could say is, have faith things are happening for a reason. We just don't know why.

But deep down inside I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw myself on the floor. I wanted to break something, anything.

I wanted to curse God for this course of events. I wanted my reward for all my suffering, and it was nowhere in sight.

I wanted my life back. I wanted to be happy again.

I am angry. I am irate. I am dejected. I am filled, flooded and steeped in sorrow.

Why?

Why me?

I am having a hard time trusting the process. Seeing my Son so upset, my rage for all that has happened.

But I am still standing. I am still trying to hold my three kids up while I tread, exhausted.

I am still here.

I am trying.

Xoxo,

C.