I wake up several times a night and have a very hard time going back to sleep. The house is still, quiet, and dark. My mind is not. It is busy, busy, busy, thinking of my Lost One.
I went through a phase not long ago when using the euphemism "lost" to mean "dead" was really offensive to me. I didn't like the implication of "lost". That it somehow meant I "misplaced" her, or in some way was responsible for her death by not paying enough attention to where she was so that she could just wander away and become "lost". I just didn't like it.
Now, with some time, I am able to accept the intention behind the phrase and agree with it's true sentiment. My baby girl is lost to me. I have lost the chance to know her. And it is a lot to lose. I feel it every day. It is so obvious to me, the hole in our family where she is, but isn't. I miss her. I miss her deep in my soul. You may think the missing wouldn't be there since I don't really KNOW her. Which of your children would you not miss having the chance to know? Just pick one. After all, that's all I'm missing. Just one. One is lost.
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