It’s hard to be here, sometimes. At home.
Yes, its where you were born. It’s where you lived for one whole day before the hospital days.
But when I’m here, all I see are the empty spaces where you should be.
I see the holes where your cosleeper should be, where stacks of tiny diapers should’ve been stored.
I feel a physical pain, a burning hole in my chest that radiates down throughout my arms and reaches my fingertips. My entire body just aches for you.
I yearn for you constantly. My mind, body, and soul are so aware of your absence.
I see glimpses of you all around this place. It’s as if my mind etches you into the places you would be if you were here, because it knows I just can’t bear to live without you..
They say home is where the heart is, but a part of my heart died along with you and I’m left learning how to live this way.
I will never be whole here. I will never be at home here. There is no home for us without you in it.