The last man standing in the middle of the night was Jim. Insensitive sometimes, but patiently present for hours on end. He tried.

He’s gone now too. Barely a word in the past week. Busy…

The misery is too much. For everyone. Especially me.

I was told by other mothers this would happen, but I didn’t expect it so soon. I’m at 20 weeks.

Now what?

They can escape my grief. I can’t.

Who knew life could be this brutal? I haven’t lived a sheltered life. It’s been hard all along. But there is no pain worse than this pain. If they lopped my leg off without anesthesia it would be a mosquito bite in comparison.

I got out today, went for a ride. Water everywhere from the flood a few days ago. I try to ride every day. But what I really want to do is sleep. Precious endless sleep.

I have a terrible time getting to sleep every single night, it’s torture. My mind reels with the shock of loss for hours on end. Loss of my future, my past, my present. Ben’s past, his future, his present. I cry, wail, keen, rock, babble in grief language, and pass exhausted into heavy sleep. I just want to stay there more than anything.

But the morning comes in bitterly. I drag myself out of bed. The world expects me to function. I have to work. I have to talk. I have to walk. I have to smile. I have to pretend I give one single shit about breathing.

I don’t.

When does this end?

When does this get better?

Why am I here?

Why am I breathing?

Where is God?