Sweet Girl ~ Made of Win

~Sweet girl ~ Made of Win | I Will Always Be Her Mother~


Losing your child. Losing your only child. There may be worse things in life, but I have yet to experience any of them. Honestly, I can't imagine anything worse. For me there is nothing worse. I lost the best part of me. The only good part of me, really. My heart. My child.


My sweet, precious girl. My Jordan. She suffered so much, yet she never lost her heart for loving others, caring, feeling compassion for anyone who suffered. She had the sweetest spirit of any person I've ever known. She deserved so much better than me. She didn't think so--that's just another example of how wonderful she was. "Made of Win" was one of her favorite expressions. She was most definitely "Made of Win." Yes, she loved her mama. She's the only person who has ever really known me. She knew my heart--she was my heart. And now, my heart is gone.


It has been two years, four months and seven days since I lost her. Is that too long to weep for the loss of my sweet girl? Some people think so. The people I hate. It's funny (not really), the people I hate are the people I loved at one time: Most of my family and friends. My mother is the exception (and that really is funny/weird, because she and I have had such a rocky relationship for most of my life - she's the only member of my family who has given me any real comfort though).


I still pray to die each night before I fall asleep. I wake up weeping and angry that I am still here. Alive, breathing. Well, breathing anyway. I'm not alive--I just exist. Exist. Cry. Pray to die. Strangly enough, laughing hurts as badly as crying, maybe more. When I laugh I forget, if only for a moment, that sweet Jordan is gone. And to forget, if only for a moment, is nothing less than a desecration of her memory. That I am even able to laugh causes me great pain. How can I laugh when my child, my heart, my reason for living, no longer exists here on this earth?

After Jordan died, I decided that God didn't exist. I soon determined that I must be wrong about that; You can't hate someone who doesn't exist. I no longer hate God, nor do I believe any longer most of what I accepted as truth, for most of my life, concerning God, religion and Christianity . Most Christians, my family included (my family, especially), would call me a heretic. I no longer believe in God the right way. I'm not the right kind of Christian. They can all go fuck themselves. I couldn't care less about the opinons of people who think that it is possible to grieve too much for your child.


My child no longer lives, on this earth, but I will always be her mother. My soul and life are broken beyond repair. I'll never be happy again. To think that I would ever want to be happy without my sweet girl is obscene--so completely wrong. I know she can't come back to me, but I can go to her. I think about it. A lot.

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Losing Jordan
A thousand volumes of nothing but a continuous repetition of the expression of pain could not come close to describing the all-encompassing, soul-destroying grief of losing my precious daughter.


There are no words in any tongue known to man to adequately express the depth of the horrific pain of losing my child--my sweet Jordan. If I were to convey the extent of this agony, the world would be filled with the never-ending echoes of my screams.


I held my sweet, sweet Jordan in my arms as she took her last breath. If God was merciful he would have allowed me to die that day as well. Continuously, day and night, I pray that He will be merciful yet.


Were the entire world to weep with me, there would be a surfeit of unshed tears of sorrow remaining.

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Broken
Losses break me
Visions shake me ~ Nightmares chase me
Voices plague me ~ Memories rape me
Mistakes shape me ~ Cold inside me
I despise me
Malignant malady ~ Death's neutrality
Life's brutality ~ Pain's vitality
Self is vanity ~ Loss of Sanity.
My sad reality
Broken

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My God, My Child
My child, sweet child
Why God, why?
Please be merciful, let me die
Heart don't beat
Eyes be blind
In the ground, cold like ice
Body fall, spirit rise
Leave the life I despise


She can't come back to me, but I can go to her. Sooner or later I will. Sooner, I think.