My days run together. I have to work to remember which day it is, and that makes work difficult. My husband says he feels broken. I understand, but I don't sympathize. I still can't, even with the person who is my partner. The more upset he is, the crueler I feel. But there is an emptiness that will not go away. I have been through tragedies in my life. I have learned this lesson before. That when the terrible happens, the worst thing in your life, and you are brought lower than you knew possible, another day will come when you will learn that the worst was nothing compared to this. The first time, it was lying alone, dying. That was the worst. Then losing a parent, watching her suffer and going to a chapel and getting on my knees and praying to a god I don't believe in to trade, please let me trade, and getting no answer. Watching my little brother's face as he tried to comprehend death, a mom that was not coming home. Then that was the worst. And now this, losing you. Now I know that the world can be so much worse. But it is why I understand feeling broken, even when it comes from a man whose eternal optimism has never before been shattered. Because it is the helplessness, that same helplessness that brought me to my knees in that chapel, the realization that at the most important times in your life when everything that matters is balancing just out of your reach, the helplessness that breaks you. Because at the times when you most need control over life, you have none. I understand. I don't know what moment it was when you became my son, but it happened. And when they asked for you back, I had no control. No control over you, my son, the most important thing in my life because as soon as you were mine that is what you were. That helplessness was so vast and so true that I could only hold you knowing with absolute certainty that I would never hold you again. It is that certainty, that helplessness accompanied by the realization that there is no denying, no fighting, no hope, that breaks you. It shakes your grasp on sanity because surely something so terrible could never be true even though you know it is true. I understand feeling broken. I understand I learned my lesson, again. What I don't understand is how to fill this emptiness so I can feel anything about anyone else, other than what I feel about you.