The journey of losing a child is continuous, never confined to a single moment. Although the death certificate officially recorded Texa's last breath at 11:30 pm on May 7, 2022, I was informed of her passing at 10:30 pm by a detective who knelt before me with the heartbreaking news. That moment made her death a stark reality for me.
For family members living out of state, the devastating news was relayed through text messages and calls, my voice breaking with each word. Friends and acquaintances would hear of it later that night or the next day.
The full impact of her absence struck me when I saw her body at the funeral home. That's when the finality of the situation sank in. It was no longer just news to process—it was a profound, life-changing reality that she was truly gone, never to return.
That realization marked the beginning of an ongoing experience of loss.
In family photos, we adjust to fill the space where she once stood, each shift subtly erasing traces of her physical presence. However, I smiled for the camera because that's what is expected. But behind that smile, I'm fighting back tears.
Our family and Texa's friends keep close contact, which is a continued effort, perhaps to ensure no regrets over unmade calls or texts. Yet, these connections, while comforting, also emphasize her absence.
When relatives and friends inquire about what's new with Jerry and me, I intentionally omit to mention Texa. They might not notice the brief pause, but it's a moment heavy with unspoken grief for me.
To most, the day of Texa's passing is just a date on the calendar. Initially, this realization was almost unbearable due to the depth of my grief. But over time, I've come to understand and accept their ability to move forward as their lives continue to be enriched with new relationships and experiences.
For me, the loss of Texa is a daily reality. It recurs continually, woven into the fabric of my everyday life.
I'm no longer merely dwelling on my daughter's death. I live in a reality where she is eternally loved, remembered, and deeply missed. Always.