Animal pain. My best friend’s daughter died today. She was 18.

I crept into my pole room at 1 AM and tried to move the pain through my body. The helplessness I feel. That my friend should have to experience this. It’s like someone called me and told me they shot her in the heart. I’m angry in the same way.

Every moment I’m alone I think about Meimei or Rose or my son. When I’m with Sky and Denny, I feel alright. Cheerful. A bit irritated by the chaos. When I’m alone I ruminate. How can someone be there one moment and be gone the next. It’s wrong. It’s against all feelings of safety.

This is my worst fears of love coming true. Loss. This is at the core of why I did not have another child. To love someone that much is to put that much on the line. Sky is my heart living outside of my body. To do that twice?

In my lifetime, there is no age at which he could die that I would be fine with. 3, 18, 29, 35, 45, 60, 73, 80. If Sky died at 80 on my 114th birthday, that would still be my baby boy. And ultimate betrayal of betrayals, I will die before he does, if all goes well. So it will have been a lie I told him all this time, that I would always come back. Because one day, I will not.

Love hurts so much. He laid on my chest this afternoon as he was napping. He said sadly, “I don’t want to go away from you mom,” and I said, “you don’t have to, you can come lay on me.” And he was so happy. He laid on me, his heavy little body. And I felt close to someone, an animal closeness, like two puppies in the same litter. So rare for me. That intimacy. I was happy. But it hurt! It burned me! It hurt so much. I hated it. And loved it. “It’s going to go away!” my brain screamed at me. “You’re going to lose this!” “He’s going to die! And if he doesn’t die, one day, he will stop doing this because he’s going to grow up and hate you!”

Why do we chase after love, this thing that hurts so much?

And it irritates me. He irritates me. His constant questions and requests and calling my name. The way he stands right in front of me or runs in front of my feet so I trip over him. When he spits for no reason because it’s funny, or throws things, or tries to hit. But against my will I find myself patient. Against my nature I am patient. I am pulled by a ring in my nose towards kindness and loving behavior. Or sometimes I pull away in defiance and I’m sharp-tongued or snappy, and I feel doubly guilty or ashamed. Love is torture. Why?

As a mom, I am loving, patient, empathetic, kind, fun, creative, curious, attentive, thoughtful, and respectful. I think those are perfect qualities for a mom to have. I think I am a good mom. But as a person, I am afraid, tired, worried, anxious, fearful, in pain, lost, insecure. I’m still a small animal hiding. I can be great for other people, but I struggle to be great on my own. I find strength doing for the sake of others. but in doing so, it highlights how little I can do for myself.