Adu Baby,
It’s been five months since you left us. Not a moment passes by when I don’t think of you. I miss you so much, can’t explain in mere words!
You know what? Mamba has completely changed her room. We sold the bed, the table, everything. Since you left, she couldn’t bear to be in there; every corner reminded her of you—how you’d climb onto her loft bed, jump on it with that mischievous laugh, throw her soft toys and pillows to the floor, turning it into your playground.
She has a new bed now. The day we put the mattress on, all we could talk about was you. We imagined how you would have instantly claimed it as your own, bouncing on it, shouting with joy. We could see you sneaking into her room every chance you got, making it your new favourite spot.
I thought that by now, maybe I’d be a little better. I believed that in five months I might have taken a few steps forward. But I’m not sure anymore. Every night feels endless—waiting for sleep that doesn’t come, waiting for even a moment of rest.
The moment I am alone with my thoughts, the grief crashes over me. The images of those last moments with you, especially that Saturday before you left, play in my mind like a movie without a pause button.. My throat chokes with grief, my chest aches, and I find myself wandering through the house at night, searching for something—anything—that might bring some solace, some peace
I don’t know what I should do. I keep myself busy through the day. I exercise, I meditate, I go out – all the while carrying this immense ball of grief inside me. No one can tell. I’ve become good at hiding it. On the outside, I smile, I laugh, I look “okay.” But my heart… it knows the weight it carries.
I miss you with every fibre of my being. I wish I could hold you just once more, feel your arms around me, kiss your soft cheeks, and never let go.
Until we meet again,
Lots of love,
Mamma
