I fucking hate this

I want to believe.
I want to believe in an afterlife. To be honest, maybe it would make this easier. Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe having a strong faith or belief that I will see my son again would make it even a tiny bit easier to get through each day. Maybe it would make it easier to get through each night that he isn’t coming to say goodnight before leaving for work or letting me know that he’s home after being out with friends.

Maybe it would help on nights like tonight when I am sitting in bed, curled up in my son’s blanket, and wearing his shirt with one of his soft pillows tucked under my arm. Is all of this on my mind because I am exhausted? And am I physically exhausted or am I emotionally exhausted? Or both?

It has been a long fucking week.

Four news interviews about the asshole repeatedly destroying Bryce’s memorial. School stuff. A full work week. And my first counseling session. Which I really don’t want to be doing but I know that my head is not in a good place right now.

So maybe if I believed, it would help me. Maybe if I believed that I would see my son again. That I would someday be with him again. I would someday have a paradise where there is no pain. No hurt. Only happiness and my baby waiting for me to welcome me with his big, beautiful smile and a big hug.

I honestly don’t know what I believe happens to us when we die. I fall somewhere between agnostic and atheist. I know I don’t believe in the Christian god. I know I don’t believe in the bible’s version of “heaven”. There is no logic to either of those things. But what happens to us after we die? Do we just…stop? Cease to exist anywhere but in photos and memories? Does the electricity and energy that makes our bodies function linger around?

Fuck. I hate this so much. I hate that I feel alone when I’m not even alone. I hate that I feel alone even when surrounded by people. I hate that I feel overwhelmed when I didn’t before. I hate that I am struggling so much when I want to stay strong to help Carter.

Grief is horribly uncomfortable and it’s lonely and it changes you. There is no fixing it. There is no speeding up the process. Some people say that time helps. But I don’t know if time actually helps or if it simply helps numbs the feelings so that you can learn to live with them. So that you learn to build a life around the pain.

I wish I had the answers. I wish someone had the answers. I wish there was a magic pill. A magic fix. A time machine would be even better so I could go back in time and save my boy because I don’t know how to live the rest of my life without him here. How to live the rest of my life without the baby I gave birth to here with me. I feel sick to my stomach at the thought.