19 March 2021 – Where I Live Now

I was tagged in a post on Instagram the other day. An expectant parent had unexpectedly lost her child, and a mutual friend wanted to connect us. These early days are so very heavy. Every little bit helps.

But then I was reading through the other comments on the post, and I found one that said, “someday this won’t hurt so bad,” and to be honest, I wanted to scream.

What the hell is “someday” anyway?

When I was new in my loss, people tried to tell me about someday.
“Someday it won’t be so hard.”
“Someday you will help someone else through this.”
“Someday you will have a new child.”
(As if children are replaceable!)

I found so many people willing to speak about someday, but for some reason, so very few were willing to meet me in the present.

Do you know that in the present, my child is dead?

Do you remember that yesterday, he wasn’t?

Do you understand that in the present, he is dead now, forever? And this includes your abstract “someday”?

When I was new in my loss, people tried to talk to me about someday. But they didn’t seem to understand that someday didn’t exist for me.

Even now, even today, “someday” is pretty darn irrelevant. Because the only place I can live is in reality.

Posts written in response to prompts from Megan Devine’s Refuge in Grief writing program.
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