April 5th, 1987

A friend came to see me today, and we went for a walk. Somehow I managed not to think about you for a few hours. I hate myself for that. I should never forget that you exist… existed. I just don’t know how to do this. I don’t know where the line is between being okay and sinking into the depths. I feel so guilty for forgetting about you for those few hours. My friend says she thinks it’s a good thing; it means I’m moving on. She doesn’t understand. Neither do I for that matter. What do you do when you’re no longer a parent?

When you came along it completely disrupted my world. I can barely remember what my life was like before you. Suddenly there was this being, this new human that I’d given birth to. Even the nine months I spent waiting and wanting didn’t prepare me for the rush of love I would feel when I looked into your small eyes.

Now my life is disrupted completely again, in the worst possible way. There hadn’t been a waking moment in the past three months when you weren’t on my mind. Then today I forgot you. I laughed for the first time, and that was when the memory came rushing back and made me realize what had happened. It felt wrong. How could I possibly laugh? I should not be able to laugh. I don’t feel like I can even smile without feeling guilty. There shouldn’t be anything positive in a world without you in it.

This isn’t how life is supposed to be. I’m not supposed to mourn you. I’m supposed to watch you grow.

I feel so guilty, not only because I forgot you for a moment, but because I’m still here and you aren’t.

Love,

Mom