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Buried Under Broken Glass – Approaching 50 and Fabulous
Anxiety Bereavement Moms Parenting

Buried Under Broken Glass

February 22, 2016

I am buried under a pile of broken glass.  

As long as I don’t move, I won’t get cut. As long as I don’t move, I won’t bleed.   As long as I don’t move, the tears won’t come.  As long as I don’t move, the reality that my son is gone won’t exist. 

Anthony’s younger brother Luciano wants to return to school tomorrow. The timing is a bit quick for a return to school in my opinion, however he wants to go. He is a very good student. Diligent and persistent. His guidance counselor says the sooner he “gets back to a normal routine, the better.”   Kids do better when they’re able to get back to normal. 

What the hell is a normal routine anymore?  My oldest son is entombed forever behind a wall of marble. My son has a simple label bearing his name that will soon be engraved stone. Is that supposed to be normal?  Is that my new routine? …kissing the stone and begging Anthony’s forgiveness that I couldn’t save his life?   …Taking his brothers for cemetery visits; perhaps driving there myself for a chat now and then?  That’s my normal?  Is it? 

I was simply pouring a cup of water a few minutes ago and it hit me, if Luciano returns to school tomorrow, life without Anthony officially begins. Real life. I pressed my head against the refrigerator and felt the tears well up in my eyes.  My stomach lurched forward and the nausea set in. 

If Luciano returns to his normal routine… This surreal virtual world becomes reality.  I don’t want it to.  Ever.

I don’t know how to handle reality without my Anthony. I am not ready.  I am still a party of 5, I don’t want to be 4. 

I am comfortable buried under my pile of broken glass. As long as I don’t move, reality won’t set in. 

As long as I don’t move, I won’t get cut. As long as I don’t move, I won’t bleed.   As long as I don’t move, the tears won’t come. As long as I don’t move, the reality that my son is gone won’t exist. 

I have to move tomorrow. The glass will pierce my flesh and the blood will flow. 

Real life is not a first aid kit.  I will have to improvise on bandages and tourniquets for now. 

💋 ~ Miranda

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