Original drawing I created for and borrowed with permission fromwww.thegrieftoolbox.com
When my nine year old died in 1987 I was thrust into a dark womb of despair and I felt my system shutting down. How can I possibly survive this? I did not want to, nor did I know how. The foundations of my existence were shaken, “this cannot be happening to me” I said over and over again as though it would somehow awaken me from the nightmare. For the first time in my life I could use word “surreal” with an understanding of its meaning, as it seemed the only way to describe my waking hours as I experienced them.
One pivotal day in those early years of gray I found myself holding myself in a deep soul embrace; I was really unsure who was in control, yet deep inside from some internal gyroscope I felt a…
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