I don’t think I ever knew the meaning of tired before Shawn died.  I pretended that I did.  I often thought I was exhausted.  Now, I own an entirely new definition for the concept of fatigue.  There isn’t a day, a moment or honestly a second that I am not reminded of the loss of Shawn.  For over seven months I feel like I have been tested to endure incomprehensible grief and the worst part is, I don’t see an end in sight.  When do I stop enduring, when do I stop hurting, when do I stop thinking about it? 

The days drain me.  Good days or bad days, by the time night falls, I am worn out and weary to start the next day.  My best days are those where I find motivation to enter a task and possibly complete it.  Lately, more frequent days are unmotivated.  Is this a sign of depression?  Is this a phase in the grieving process?  Is this a passage I must walk through? 

One eye open, the other shut…this is a lousy way to build stamina.  Maybe soon the strength I am building will help me stay awake.

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