Love by Numbers, book 6: Eight
E.S. Carter2017

I'm sorry for your loss.
Why do people say that?
When someone you love is taken from you, when a part of you dies along with them, you haven't lost them like you would your car keys or mobile phone. They aren't stuck down the side of the sofa or left in the ignition of your car for you to find later. You haven't absentmindedly put them somewhere and forgotten. You will never lose them because they live in you.
The soul crushing hurt that burns your lungs with every breath you take comes from knowing where they are and not being with them.
The ugly and real definition of grief is being left behind.
I'm sorry they left you.
I'm sorry you are alone.
I'm sorry it hurts to breathe.
Loss; it doesn't even compare.
She was my first love.
She is my last love.
I am an empty husk who pretends to be filled with enough love for those of us she left behind.
Our little girl and newborn son need me.
I am both mother and father now.
I am hollow and empty.
I am a shell.
So why does the girl with the face of an angel and eyes that mirror my emptiness, look at me like I'm her everything?