The pain of losing a child who is still alive is something I don’t know how to explain. It’s as if a part of you is still breathing and smiling somewhere else but no longer recognizes you. I spent nights trying to understand what I did wrong, searching my memories for the exact moment I lost her affection.
Was it after her husband Julian came into our lives? Was it when I questioned some financial decisions they were making? Or maybe it was that Sunday brunch in Chicago when I mentioned I thought she was losing too much weight, looking sick, and Julian answered for her that I should mind my own health.
Now, with the message lighting up my phone screen, I felt like someone lost in the desert who suddenly spotted water. Desperate, thirsty, not questioning if it might be a mirage.
The days until Tuesday dragged on like never before. I changed my clothes five times before leaving. I put on the green dress she had given me for the last birthday we were still close. I put on makeup, trying to hide the marks that loneliness had left on my face.
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