And the World Keeps Turning

The world keeps turning. There is news, and events. People's lives keep going, and I sit here and wonder how it can be. My world is at a stand still. I don't even feel like I want it to keep turning. It doesn't make sense. I have cried and cried, but still the tears come. I don't feel normal, but I am trying to create some normal for my little ones. My poor husband has held me every night while I cried myself to sleep, and has been awakened when I cry in my sleep. I know it won't always feel like this, and that when I move through this a little, it will start to get better. But you know what my deep, dark secret is? I don't want to move through. I don't want to move through, because they were here for so short a time, and every day that passes takes me further away from them. I don't want to change my sheets, because that bed is the last place I knew they were alive, and it was the place I went to cry when I found out they were gone. I don't want or wish to be sad forever, but I feel like my sadness is the last remnant I have of them. I don't really want my body to heal, because these are the last physical connections I have to them. I know that none if this is healthy, and that some people will tell me that it will get better, or not to dwell, or whatever. Right now, I really don't care. I want them. I know, I know, they were never really mine. But you know what else? I really don't care about that either. They were mine. They were a part of me. A part of us.