Sorry

I feel like I need to apologize. No, I don’t feel like I need to. I do, constantly.

Isaiah, I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry I can’t play. I’m sorry I have no patience. I’m sorry we can’t go to the park or the Wondertorium. What you don’t understand is that just to say these words is taking everything I have. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I’m sorry.

Every regret I have about Damon is currently being lived out in my relationship with Isaiah.

Why didn’t I play with him more? Laugh with him more? Slow down… tickle more… hold him more?

Now I can barely interact with my precious living child. I want to but I can’t.

Will, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I can’t cook dinner and fill our house with home. I’m sorry I can’t laugh and smile and debate with you. I’m sorry I can’t get out of bed. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I want to but I can’t. I’m sorry I’m not the woman you married. I love you so much. I’m sorry.

Damon, I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. I’m sorry I didn’t hold you enough. I’m sorry I gave a crap about my education or the state of the damn floor. I miss you. I love you so much. I’m sorry.

World, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t converse. I’m sorry I can’t join. I’m sorry I can’t care…

I fail. What will I lose now? Everything it seems because I died with my child and I can’t seem to figure out how to live again.

Empty.