When people usually ask me how we are doing, I answer, "We are fine. Some days are harder than others." The hard days.
On this day, around this time, two years ago, the doctor looked at us with tears in his eyes and shook his head. It was the hardest day of my life. That was the moment the last ounce of hope left us. Deep down, I had already known but they say hope is the last thing to leave a human.
It felt as if life itself left with hope.
The pain was so intense that I wanted to run my head into the wall, just to knock myself out. But I knew that the pain would still be there when I woke up. I had to deal with the pain head-on.
With time, the pain becomes more manageable. You learn to feel the symptoms and brace yourself. You also know that certain days will be rough, such as the birthday and the day the person left this earth. In our case, Liam was struck on September 3 and was pronounced brain dead on September 4. Personally, I feel like today, the fourth, is harder. Today was the day when hope died and with it, a piece of me. But it's not the end. Because I am still here. I'm still standing. And I, along with Mishel, have found our way back to happiness. The ultimate goal in the fight against grief. Because it is a fight. A fight to find your way back to being you. But you will have your hard days. The hard days are the days people don't know of. I certainly didn't know of such days before September 3, 2016. However, a lot of people do have them and they are all different, some more difficult than others.
For me, the hard days, such as today, makes it hard to even get out of bed. There is a constant pressure across the chest. It feels as if someone had put a heavy weight on your chest. On some days, that weight feels like 50 lbs. On some days, it feels like an elephant is standing on you. Those days, it is hard to even breath. You feel slow and apathetic and yet, your heart is beating at a 100 miles per hour. Your mind is running but you can't focus your thoughts. And it's difficult to think of almost anything but Liam.
Almost everything relates back. That song that he loved. That street that he walked on. That toy that he played with. Those police sirens, I just heard outside the window. The same sound that I was woken up by on that day, two years ago.
So what do you do?
You ride it out. As the emotions fill you, you have to continue breathing. Or, in my case, go and punch a bag, until you can't breathe anymore. But you have to ride it out and you have to remember that the sun is going to shine again. The level of anxiety is similar to that of a fight, right before we step out in the light and into the cage. And that's when we have to remember King Solomon's words: "This too shall pass".