I don’t want to remember.

The day began with the rising of a hot and humid sun. The previous night had been spent tossing and turning in a warm sticky bed. I awoke calm and relaxed all was good in the world. Then the memories flew into my mind of days spent being woken by the tears of a child in need. The beeping of an alarm on a machine that feeds and restores throughout the night.

So many times you will hear me say, “Memories are wondrous gifts” or “create memories everyday”.

Not today! Today I wish I didn’t have to remember. The smell off her freshly washed hair, the mischievous giggle that captured her spirit. The bravery in her smiles as the seizures attacked her body. I don’t want to remember today.

This day is nothing different to yesterday or the one before. I just don’t want the pain anymore. The ache of my heart, empty from the missing. I want to scream life isn’t fair, why my baby, why my daughter why why.

I tell others about the glory of Heaven and what a wonderful time she is having there, but today I cannot find comfort in these thoughts.

The desire to hold my daughter in my arms is destroying my sanity. All my thoughts are consumed by this. I want to hold her close, twist her sweet curls around my fingers as I rock her gently to sleep.

Today the answers are too far for me to reach. Too far to make any sense in my grieving mind.

I’m angry at the world, trying to understand but lacking the wisdom, the knowledge, the desire. Maybe I just want to wallow in my pain. Does moving forward mean leaving her behind? My head aches with questions I have no answers for.

I want to scream, shout let the inner rage escape but I won’t, it’s not to be done. I cling to the strength she instilled in me; it’s still there underneath the pain somewhere.

The illness that took my daughter away is still causing pain to others. My friends asking me for prayers as their children fight the syndrome. My prayers are for them I promise, but my heart is still broken for my little girl. No parent should have to feel this pain. No one deserves this living nightmare.

As I listen to their fears I feel selfish as I would give anything to be there once again, to have one more day, one more hug, one more kiss, one more. I don’t want to feel this way, where is my compassion. I don’t like who I am when grief overwhelms me. Where is my strength, my purpose?

I look forward to the oblivion of sleep, the emptiness of my dreams. Maybe tomorrow will be brighter; maybe the memories will fill me with joy and sweet smiles. Tomorrow may be better but how I wish for the yesterdays.

Just one more hug


About sarawith4

I'm a stay at home mom who loves her faith and and family. I am a new christian and still learning about the glory and grace of our Lord. I'm also a grieving mom who has to try each day to smile. Knowing my child is with the Lord brings me comfort but doesn't take away the pain of missing them.
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18 Responses to I don’t want to remember.

  1. Cherie says:

    Your sorrow is real and cannot be rushed. Turn to your Savior, Your Healer, Your Redeemer. He knows your pain, He feels your pain.

    Love and hugs to you. How I wish the miles were not so long between us!

  2. A very powerful and thought-provoking piece to read. You have so much to hold onto. And I am struggling for something to say. I send you a hug instead.

    Love CJ xx

  3. Cherie says:

    I pray these verses will encourage you!

    I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry.
    He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
    out of the mud and mire;
    he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.
    Psalm 40:1-2

    The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
    Psalm 34:18

    He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.
    Psalm 18:16-19

  4. Sam says:

    So, so moving. I cannot begin to imagine your pain. I so hope tomorrow if filled with the happy kind of memories x

  5. and I too often push my own daughter away… oh man.

  6. There are definitely days that are much, much harder than others. I’m more emotional now as we approach what would have been Emmy’s 3rd birthday.

    The Lord will uphold you, even when you feel lower than low. {HUGS}

  7. Memories are hard arent they. No matter how good they are at the same time they still cause us pain for the fact they are no longer with us. Memories hurt like that, but we cherish the fact we have those. xxx

  8. ((((Sara)))) I have no great words for you, just love and prayers. Mich x

  9. Tina says:

    Sending you lovng hugs dear friend. God can take your cries of why?
    When we have nothing to offer him but our tears. Remember what Jesus did with the water at Canna. How much sweeter wine will he make from your tears.
    God loves you and cares for you and feels your pain. Livvy’s work was finished but He still needs you still has things to teach you but your hone is heaven too. He will take you home at the right time. Then God himself will wipe away your tears. There is no sorrow there.
    Love you

  10. Linda says:

    I don’t have the words to tell you much but I can tell you that I am very sorry for the struggles and pain that your beautiful daughter experienced.

    I’m also very sorry for your loss of your precious daughter and for the families you talk of. Your writing is beautiful and has moved me very much.

    I will also tell you this though, I am moved, humbled and inspired by your compassion and I am sending you all the love I can.

  11. Tia says:

    I have those days too…they are miserable. I’m sorry.

  12. Such beautiful words for such a crushing time. No parent can read this and not feel the ache of wanting to reach out to you and put a hand on your hand.
    And that photo is just precious x

  13. I have no words, only hugs and love.


  14. There are no words of comfort I can give, without me thinking they all sound cliched. This is a heart breaking post to read, let alone live with. Your writing has moved me deeply.

  15. A massive hug that is all I can say xxxx

  16. Beautifully written, heartbreaking and deeply moving. So very sorry, wish there was more I could say. Hugs xxx

  17. Becky (babybudgeting) says:

    God bless you x

  18. Deer Baby says:

    I’m so very sorry for the loss of your beautiful daughter.

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