People Say I’m Strong…

People say that I am strong.

I have lost a child. It hurt more than I have ever felt with any heartbreak. I have been told more than a few times that I was strong. But here’s a secret…

I don’t feel strong. Should I feel strong? I feel normal, like I am any other person. What makes me strong? Perhaps because I didn’t have mental break down at the memorial service for my son and I am not in a deep depression that which leads people to call me strong. I have a daughter, she needs me so I don’t break down in front of her. I thought that would be the natural thing to do, not to break down so completely.

There was a scene in this book I had once read years ago where the main character was attending a funeral and the wife of the man that died had a mental breakdown. She threw herself at the casket and started to scream and people had to literally drag her from it. That same woman had a really young daughter there who saw it all. The main character approached the woman, told her she needed to get it together because her daughter needed her. She could break down later. That stuck with me. It was a small scene that didn’t really develop the plot of the story itself but it kept in my mind more than any other.

Here’s another question, was I strong before my experience of losing a child? Did it just make me stronger? Or did it make me strong? What makes someone not strong? How strong am I? Is everyone strong just in their own way? Goodness, so many questions that almost make me sound concided but these are the ones going through my mind.

I want to be strong. I have a daughter and I want to see her mommy is strong, not just physically but in that other way. But I don’t feel that kind of strong that people like to call me.

If I was really strong, wouldn’t I be doing more than? Looking at my life, things are going good. I mean, we are getting buying a house now and my fiance and I are only twenty-four years old. That is good. But, I’m just here along for the ride it seems. I wish I could light a fire under my own butt. Really, I am the only one that could make myself do anything.

So, once again, I wonder… how am I strong? I feel so normal. I still cry for my son. I crack under pressure at times. I yell at my daughter in frustration of her actions still. I don’t do it all the time of course, but if you are a parent I think you understand what I mean. Always, I wanted to make a difference in something but I am just sitting. Maybe I’m waiting for something to settle.

What a rant this has become.

I know I am strong in a way but sometimes I question the how and why.