Reminiscing, Emptiness, And Missing

Hey! So, for the first time ever, since I just found out about it and thought it would be fun, I’m going to do the weekly writing challenge that was posted by WordPress. This week’s prompt is to write a post based on a picture, and the picture I chose was emptiness, which is below. Now, without further ado, let’s begin, shall we?

Emptiness
photo credits to Cheri Lucas Rowlands

To my daughter,

These last few months have been really hard. Whoever says time heals all wounds has obviously never lost a child. Because that’s what you are, aren’t you? You’re lost. You were kidnapped at five days old. Your daddy and I only have five days of memories with you. That’s… I don’t know what that is. But it isn’t meant to be. Remind me to go back in time and make sure that the phrase “everything happens for a reason” is never said, either.

Anyway, I guess this whole year has been hard. The let downs, the lost hopes. Especially the loneliness. I was holding on to the hope that you would be back with us for your first birthday. But you weren’t. I was holding on to the hope that you would be back with us for your second birthday five days ago. But you weren’t. Plus, the one year anniversary of your kidnapping happened. I wasn’t prepared for that. Not at all. But I got through it. Just like I’ve gotten through each and every day without you.

I don’t know why people think anything besides you being back can fix my broken, bleeding heart. It’s broken beyond repair. I say this because recently, in the past few months, your daddy and I have gotten a few comments that have told us that maybe we would feel better if we had another baby. Even my best friend said this. Needless to say, she’s not my best friend anymore. I feel like a child saying that, but it’s true. She was the person that I vented to the most, so she should know what I’m feeling. I guess she just wasn’t listening.

Anyways, I just can’t see having another baby when you, my daughter, my only child, my everything, are gone. Your daddy feels the same way. We feel as if it would be betraying you. How could we possibly pretend to be happy with another child? All we want is you.

I don’t think we’ll ever get used to this emptiness, and I know for a fact that the gaping hole in our hearts can’t be filled without you. You are the only thing that can make your daddy and I feel complete. You, and you alone can put us back together again. But we’ll never be fully healed. We’ll never be who we were before you were five days old.

Whenever I think of you, I always wonder where you are. It always makes me feel hollow inside, like I’m nothing. I’m your mom, I should be able to protect you. Instead, I don’t even know where you are. I’m filled with so much despair and anguish at the thought, sometimes I don’t know how I’m still alive.

Wherever you are, do you know that you’ve been gone for two years today? It’s 3:49 AM right now, on November 13, 2000. Exactly two years ago right now, you woke up crying, and I fed you in the night for the last time. In exactly 7 hours and 54 minutes, it’ll be the exact anniversary of your daddy being shot trying to protect us. I remember it so clearly. I was staring down at you, and you were gazing back up at me, and our identical blue eyes, yours so big and bright, refused to look anywhere else besides each other. Your daddy had just started the fire and was standing up when they broke in the windows. I instinctively held you closer and jumped up, screaming. You started to wail. I frantically looked around, the fear settling in my gut. I didn’t see them until I saw the gun, and then a second later heard the shot.

I started to run, not looking back, knowing what would await me. Your daddy on the floor, his life going out of him. I didn’t know where to go, but I knew I had to go somewhere, I knew I had to keep you safe, I knew you were worth my life a million times over. But, despite my speed, despite my motivation- you- I didn’t even make it out the door.

Someone grabbed my hair, and as I fell backwards, I made sure to hold you close so you wouldn’t get hurt. I had time to plant a kiss on your head before they stole you from my arms. I screamed and screamed. But before I even had a chance to react, they were gone.

I curled up into a ball and wailed for a minute before going to help your daddy. I think that’s what saved his life. The sobbing helped me to stop shaking just enough to be able to slow the bleeding so he was able to be moved. He was so pale, I would’ve thought he was dead if I hadn’t heard him murmuring your name, even in his unconscious state. I ran to to other room to get the phone, and ran back to your daddy as I dialed 911, so afraid that he had died in the second it took me to grab the phone.

It took your daddy months to heal. Well, at least physically. The pain of you being gone is still as fresh and raw as it was two years ago. The only thing that keep me alive is my job, which I am so grateful to have, since it allows me to work your file. Despite how hard it is, I don’t feel worthless, like I’m not doing anything. And the thing that really keeps me going is the fact that you might still be alive somewhere. I hold on to the hope that if they wanted to kill you, they would’ve done it in front of me, to cause me more pain.

Baby, know that I won’t stop until I find you. Neither will your daddy. We won’t stop until we can be a family again.

Love, Mommy

That was written in the first person point of view of a character in the book I’m writing, Running. I’m not going to say who, but if you’ve read the first two chapters (which, sadly, is all I’ve put up right now) you might be able to guess. This was really fun to write (not that I expected otherwise! 🙂 ), and it gave me more insight into this character (I almost just typed her name!).

click this cover of Running to read what’s written of Running on Wattpad

Alright, I’m going to go work on more of Running now, which I haven’t updated in over a month since I’ve been so busy. Hope you liked my… um, well, I don’t really know what to call it. You know what I mean. Anyway, that’s it. Bye!

 -Sam