Light At The End Of The Tunnel

There's always a light at the end of the tunnel.  I've told myself that with every challenge I have ever faced.  Until now.  There is no light at the end of this tunnel.  The light at the end is the white light we walk into when we die, and it's so far away that it isn't even a comforting thought.  Everyone always says that life is short.  Those people have never lost a child.  Those people have never felt 24 hours expand to fill an entire week.  Those people don't know how it feels to have every ounce of hope that they had stripped away, every ounce of security, every ounce of mental rest.  I miss my baby every single day.  And because I've lost her, because Khyri is gone I am in constant fear for Khaily.  Even thinking of letting her out of my sight ever makes my heart stop.  Because Khyri is gone I will never be able to trust another person to take care of Khaily or any future kids that may or may not even happen.  Khaily went to my mom and dad's for a week after Khy passed, and I was worried even then...with my own parents, who managed to raise 5 kids with nothing happening to any of us.  I now have worries that I never thought I would about kids that I don't even have yet.  I worry about losing another one constantly, and I don't even know if there will ever be another one.  I've tried telling myself that I will see her agian someday, that I'll be there before I know it, that she's still here in a million little ways...but that's not comforting. Every day I wake up praying that I can get up.  Every day I spend the majority of the hours waiting for night fall, because sleep is the closest I can get to her.  There is no light.  There are glimmers in the walls, I still have Khaily, I still have Jason, I have tiny little beams of light still, but they aren't enough to fix the darkness.  I walk heavier than I ever have, not in reference to my actual footsteps, but to the weight of my own heartache.  I have never had to put so much effort into each step, so much "you can do it" into every task in the day.  I am broken to pieces, and every single day I have to physically hold myself together so I don't fall apart from the weight of the tears.  No one should have to live this way.  No one should have to die this way.  I no longer fear death, because not only is it the only hope I have of seeing my baby again, but it's the only thing that will stop the pain.  I am here soley for Khaily.  I have no other function in life than to be here for the daughter that still needs me, and I am so grateful to God that for the first time ever they weren't joined at the hip that day, because I can't imagine losing them both.  There is no light.  Only a never ending tunnel of darkness.  A darkness caused by the knowledge that I will never be the same person I was 5 weeks ago.  I will never have that happiness again, I will never smile or laugh or carry myself the same way again.  Because even in the best of circumstances, even if everything I ever wanted comes true for me, it will never really be all I wanted...because all I wanted was to have my kids with me forever.  I wanted to keep her so bad. And her being gone means that I will never have what I want, there will always be someone missing. At dinner, at family events, during holidays, there will always be someone missing. </3