Lost.

losing.  it is a word that describes so much, almost too much.  you can lose a hair tie, or a battle with cancer.  you can lose your way to a concert or your way in your life.  

I've lost out on parts in plays (10th grade), I've lost out on love (college breakup comes to mind). I've lost my sense of direction and my appetite.  We are not strangers, losing and I.

Yet, I still find myself shying away when we encounter each other anew for the day.  Oh hello loss, you want to touch this day as well?  Even now, five years later, it feels as if I could only turn a page, find the answers I skipped over, get the questions right this time. 

My chest feels the weight as I sat with a friend and described not having my mom.  "It never goes away because I find a different way I've lost her every day"  The hollow realization that this the what awaits my own daughter.  The pain, oh the pain, I've never lost the pain.

At times, I am able to manage it, to walk with a slight limp.  Other times it confines me to a never ending cycle of PTSD and depression.  My thoughts spin themselves into a flurry.  The ever underwhelming phrase "it's not fair" comes to mind.  Right behind it, the fear of something worse happening, losing another child, to cancer perhaps, a twisted combination of living both the loss of my mom and my daughter.  

Everything aches, nothing is safe.  I've lost so many things, my keys, my virginity, my naivete.  How does one put an end to the suffering?  What wont be touched?  How can I hold on tighter?  

My thoughts spin themselves shallow.  I am forever without words.