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This is a new board as the sponsor of the other one has gone out of business

Please feel free to write whatever thoughts you may have. ESPECIALLY, please feel free to reply to those messages where you might be able to offer some help or just because you feel a connection. You can do it on the board or you might want to email that person directly. It is up to you and I truly appreciate it.
Big hugs, Julane

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I feel...

My baby boy, Grayson Carl Andrew Lloyd, I grieve his death. I know he has a life beyond what I understand, and I can almost see him grown and falling in love, starting a family of his own. I believe that my prayers still reach him, that they fall on him and his own family. I believe in a love that transcends death, time, and trials. In my time now, my grief is so present and painful that every time i blink my baby is taken from my arms over and over, tens of thousands of times we blink in our waking day and he is never in my arms where he should be. Perhaps I feel this all so ragingly because of my intuition. I feel truths in the earth and air, as concretely as a mathematician calculates numbers into infinity, I feel eternity. The grief is suffocating and given the option I would die than feel this. The agony could only be softened by another rose cheeked ambassador who heaven sent to stay in my arms. That could not replace my very first born boy who i held to short a time. Maybe five ambassadors, could slake the pain. I cannot mend by empty arms. I feel I am left to die a twisted torturous emptiness. Life feels more like a punishment than a gift.
Husbands are hardier, their not as deeply in tune with the soul save for rare moments of raw emotion, and it scares them. They won’t go to that place unless they are caught off guard. They keep that emotion, that precious connection to their loved one in a dust covered box and undisturbed they carry it and carry on. It has great value to them, but it is safe and in the catacombs of their soul where they do not stumble upon it in every day life.
Wives, the mothers, so lost and helpless by the loss and the outstandingly strong bond a mother and child have find themselves circling the grave, as their motherly duty calls them. Some mother’s have other children to watch over and in their rounds of checking on the other children their mind checks also the lost one. Those who have no other children simply move on, or circle. I circle, I wander in the darkness, the world fades, I circle him like his life depends on it, I know it doesn’t but I feel so strongly somewhere in some time that my boy needs watching over. I strain to know about what he’s doing and all I can do is circle and pray. I know my love reaches him, because I borrow that love from God, and it is the strongest force in the universe. I know my love reaches him I can feel it being stretched over eons, through storms and unknowns.

If his story did not end, it must have gone somewhere.

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