Stories of Lost Children
Healing Takes Time
by Peter, Newcastle, NSW, Australia
Putting into words the anguish and internal turmoil that results from a loss so great is impossible. My daughters passing was now five years ago. She would have been eight years of age. Her name was Macy though I liked to call her Cheeky. She was a dear child and this is a life sentence. My belief in anything good ever happening again wavers. No day is ever really a good day now without her. My hope, my dreams my everything all just evaporated on the 26th April 2003. The misery continues to plague me and finding understanding is difficult. No-one understands my grief. No-one understands my passion for my child. This is a cruel life and a cruel world full of cruel people out to screw you for everything. Not even the loss of my child could change that. I thought after her death, the world might take it easy on me. My wounds were mortal anyway. Why kick a dog when its down I thought. The opposite ocurred and I learnt the horrible truth about life. I want to live; I want to carry on though I would prefer it to be away from anyone who could further wound an already mortally wounded beast.
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