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The Empty Space

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by Gabriel V. from Pexels

This month is my son’s birthday month. He would be 13 years old this year if he was still on earth with us. I was looking back at my old blog, No More Afflictions (it’s still up today) that I started back in 2013, right after our second child was born, our rainbow baby Miss B. It was interesting to see how far I have come as a blogger, but I started that blog for healing, before I even knew blogging was a way to make an extra income. I enjoyed reading through the raw emotion and realness of these posts. Are they perfect? No. Do they have the right headlines, are they optimized for SEO, or do they reach a target audience? No. They are posts that I wrote only for me. Since I haven’t been on that blog in probably ten years, I decided to transfer those words, those raw and real words that I wrote after the death of our son, over to this blog. These are just here so they close to me, and also to share with those who truly want to get a glimpse into my journey as a grieving mother. Maybe you have been there too, maybe my words can resonate with you. Regardless, I will be posting these 11-year-old blog posts on the Peaceful Nest, words that take me back to that open rawness of painful grief. I am not touching them, editing them, or doing any type of SEO, they will stay exactly how they came out of me during those moments as I navigated my grief.

The Empty Space

Written: May 28, 2013

A couple of weeks ago Ben and I went out to eat. We took our daughter with us, set her carseat on the table and started to place our orders. A lady stopped at our table and oohhhh and awwwewd at our daughter. Oh shes just so precious she said. As she left my eyes started to water and my heart broke in pieces all over again. Its a feeling that only someone whose been through it can understand. There it was, right across from me. The empty chair. The chair that should have been inhabited by our sons body. He should have been there with us. The empty space is everywhere. When we go out, in our car, in our family photos, the one less member of our family. The part that should be one more body fuller. Its not something I can or want to escape. Its just something that will always be. That empty space.

Mommy to one on Earth and one in Heaven