As I roll out of bed this morning, my heart aches for the little boy I’ve lost. I think about how I will never again hold him in this life, see his smile or feel him breathing against my chest. My little angel is just that – an angel. A child of God and living in a world of pure bliss with our Lord and Savior.

Knowing and believing he’s in a much better place should put my heart and mind at ease but I still find myself in an immense amount of pain. I can’t quiet the constant screams or seem to accept that my son will never have to suffer the cruelty of this world. I only focus on the fact that he’s not where I feel he should be, with me.

It’s completely unnatural for a parent to bury their child. It goes against the general order of things in every way. My life has been flipped upside down since losing Tyler. It’s only been two months – however it’s been the most excruciating two months I have ever faced. Just recently I had a day that didn’t seem quite as bad, I even smiled at the thought of him. I found myself full of emotions that didn’t seem to fit the situation. Instead of rejoicing in my love for him I began to feel guilty that I smiled at his photo, instead of crying over his loss.

This path of ‘grief’ seems to be a roller coaster. One minute you’re up and the next you’ve plunged 50 feet at a speed quicker than light. I keep hearing of other mothers and families now facing the same fate we have. My heart goes out to them all. I wish in some way I could touch their hearts, and my own in the process, and simply say “it’s going to be okay” – leaving them with a true understanding of the five simple words. Life doesn’t feel ok after you lose a child and normal will never be ‘normal’ again.  I just pray, I tell God when I’m angry with him and I hold out hope that tomorrow will be better than today. The death of a child is an uphill battle that no amount of physical training can prepare you for.

Reach out to those around you and ask for help when you need it. If you’re a grief parent there are people out there who will listen, despite their lack of understanding on the pain you’re experiencing. Let them help. Cry, scream, or simply sit in silence with their company. I promise it’ll be a relief to know that not only you, but your missing child are loved by many. I often think these people are also angels – angels sent to us to help us through the bad, who will remain with us and wait patiently for the good to come again.