You are in a desert, all alone. That place in your heart that is arid, wind blowing through, rattling your rib cage, taking your breath, you are an empty shell.

Grief sweeps through in such a sharp, ravaging way, and not just because of the lost little one but all of the losses, the loneliness, the unbearable, aching, human, existential angst, the terror of being alive and what it all means and there is no way to get through this kind of day, it simply is not possible.

And then tears, and you can feel your heart shattering into a million pieces and feel the sharp edges of the pieces cutting like broken glass and you don’t know how to survive.

But you do, somehow you do, you always do.

But in these moments you are gripped by such unbearable sadness, the loss of people in your life who drew near and for a time gave you hope and then disappeared, the children who have grown and moved away, the friends who are lost through death or the disappearance in time as years go by, scattered to the winds, pieces of past lives.

And you never knew you would end up alone and you don’t know how to do this and you don’t think you can manage it and when will your heart ever stop aching?

And it makes it hard to trust people, even the lovely ones who have been kind, because people you have loved have left and it has made you afraid to try again.

This has been my day today. I don’t know how to do this right now. I’m just so sad.

Excuse me please. I had to come and write a blog post, I have committed to being here to do this, but today I’d rather not have because this is how I’m feeling, this is all I had to say.

I’m sorry. These are not “Precious Moments.” These hurt.