Another day of grief...

 Eight hundred and twenty-five days and it still feels like I am at day 1.   My first blog was written September 2, 2020.  The pain hasn't gotten any less.  It still is unbearable.  There is no daily word of comforter.  A daily scripture and a note that a prayer went up for me today.  As time goes by, I question still, if I believe in prayer.  I see so many post of people stating how they thanked God for sparing their child or loved one.  I guess God didn't favor Em the day she died.  You see, that is how I see that statement.  That God favored all children that lived over my child.  So why should I believe?  Believe in what?  That I am to find some glimmer of hope that he chose my child for a reason?  So hope in that my faith should be strengthened?  Hope? Hope where?  Would that be in a phone call of a loved one or friend calling to just say "Hey, just wanted to see how you were doing?"

None of that comes and to be honest, I am tired of expecting it.  One thing I have learned after 825, it's all left up to me to pull myself out of the bed each, because I just don't want to face another day without Em.  I dream about her, she's a small beautiful little girl.  Just on Friday I dreamed I was holding her small hands.  I held them tight as I could and kissed them, and then, my dream ended and she was gone.....

This is grief.  The ugly reality of my life now.