Displaced

If a marble displaces a cup of water proportionate to its mass, how much does theloss of a child displace his loved ones? I am displaced.  I don’t fit in.  As friends extend sympathy, I seem out-side myself as we speak.  When my boys want a hug, I sense that I can’t breathe for want of holding them closer, yet, it must be another’s arms that are around them for the distance I feel from them.  While my husband embraces me, I am a lost puppy that can’t get enough attention.  Others reach out, they only want to help, but they can’t.  Even if they have “been there.”  I am displaced.

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