Trigger warnings: Early Parenthood, Loss
The Brightest Light in the Darkest Night
In the dream we’re falling. She’s a tiny bundle in my arms and we fall and fall until I don’t know whether I’m terrified or grateful that there’s no ground to hit.
Her cries pierce me awake and for a moment we’ve hit the ground but no, we’re in bed and she just wants a drink or a diaper, or maybe she was dreaming too. For that microsecond she’s all there is: even outside the dream there’s only her and me.
But then the world comes back, and there’s her, me, and the gaping hole where her mother should be.