Depression is real…I lean on Jesus.

God is never closer to His children than when they are suffering…it’s not that He doesn’t give us more than we can handle, He helps us handle what we are given. But it is then, in your darkest hour, that it is up to you to reach out to Him. To invite Him into your heart, to lean on Him when you can no longer stand on your own, to take His hand, every day.

A grieving mother will never stop grieving the loss of her child. Ever. This isn’t something that you “get over” or “get through”. It’s a wound in your heart that will never heal. It’s the daily surviving with constant reminders in everything you see, hear and feel. It’s more than an empty chair at the dinner table, the missing laugh from family gatherings, the pictures that will be taken with one less child…it’s surviving each day while missing part of your soul and longing for just “one more day”.

I find myself trying to sink into things I can take care of, I can make new, I can revive. I planted a huge garden, so I could nurture and raise plants. I raised chickens, lots of them, because that was our plan, and it gave me something else to take care of. I am raising baby goats, because they keep me busy, and give me something else to take care of. I work, every day, sometimes 50 hours a week, at night and even on the weekends. But it’s all the same, it all ends the same way. I get up, I’m here, I “do”; but then I come home. To a house with one of the most integral pieces missing. I don’t cook, I don’t even have the energy. I sit on the couch, crochet, work crosswords, or search for items on Facebook market place to refurbish, because heaven forbid I sit on the couch and have nothing to do, leaving me with time to “think”. I have to stay busy. But it’s the same, mundane story, day in and day out, with the same ending. None of it matters. None of it changes anything. All of these things that I now take care of, and try to pretend to be passionate about, doesn’t change one darn thing.

What am I doing? What matters? What am I supposed to do, and more importantly, why am I here? Why am I still here? I may never know the answer to these questions, but I do trust that I have a purpose.

Depression is real. It’s hard, it’s debilitating and it’s exhausting. Wearing a fake smile, carrying on as though you are “living”, is exhausting. It wears you down quicker than 50 grit sandpaper on drywall. The pain is real, losing a child is an indescribable pain that cannot ever be put into words.

This is the time, during these darkest hours, that we must lean on God. We must turn to Him, trust Him and hold onto His promise. I can tell you this, if I didn’t turn to God, if I didn’t lean on Jesus, I wouldn’t be here. I would have succumbed to the pain and suffering two years ago. I would have given in, thrown in the towel. It is because of Him, because of the promise I know in my heart to be true, that I know I will survive. We will survive. As grieving parents, with God, we become more than survivors, we become Warriors. We can do this, but we cannot do it alone. Lean on Him, trust in Him, and find joy in the fact that we WILL see our children again. This separation is only temporary. They are simply just waiting for us, they are our place keepers. The keepers of our heart, our soul, and our place in heaven.

I love you Cole, more than any word can describe, and I miss you with every single breath I take. I cannot wait to be with you again. Until then, I will do my best to make you proud.

Love mom.