Funeral Day
On the day we buried our son, our families all left by mid-afternoon
and there was just me and Jason and our 4 year old daughter
and I was so blasted tired, but I couldn't sleep
I was afraid to sleep.
So I turned on the TV and just listened to the voices
and waited
for time to pass so I could feel better
because everybody said that time would do the trick.
And I popped painkillers every three hours.
and tried to climb back into the fog.
Sierra was stung by a bee.
Nothing made sense to me.
Everything had changed.
I was trying to hold on to my little family
and I was so scared.
I remember wandering through that apartment and it wasn't my home anymore.
His baby bassinet was gone, as I had requested,
but some of his things were still there.
I couldn't stand to look at them
and at the same time I wanted to memorize them.
Everything I had ever believed about fairness or truth
dissipated and I was left shaking my head and trying to find some hope to cling to.
Eventually my body began to heal
but it took a lot longer
for my head to catch up.
