"When Do You Sleep?"

I came across this Facebook memory today from a year ago. Reading it again, I realized how much of it still holds true. Sleep is still rare. The grief is still heavy. The nights are still hard.

But over this past year, I’ve learned to pour that pain into purpose. Instead of simply trying to outrun the silence, I’ve focused my energy on Erin’s Way and on helping other families the way so many people helped us when our world fell apart.

The support, love, meals, messages, hugs, late-night check-ins, and people who simply showed up for us carried us through our darkest days. Erin’s Way is our way of paying that love forward. It doesn’t take away the grief, and it doesn’t fix the sleepless nights, but it gives meaning to the pain and allows Erin’s light to continue helping others.

I get asked about 10 times a day how I do it and when do I sleep. I laugh or make a joke but the truth is I don't. Don't compare how much I am getting done to you. I would much rather be less productive and to rest but its a choice I just don't have right now.

"When Do You Sleep?"

They ask me,

“When do you sleep?”

With a laugh,

A wink,

As if I’m some marvel of energy,

As if I’ve mastered time.

But the truth is

I don’t.

Because sleep means silence,

And silence means memory,

And memory means

Her.

Her voice,

Her laugh,

Her eyes I’ll never see again.

Sleep brings the nightmare

Where I lose her all over again

Only to wake

And realize

It wasn’t a dream at all.

It’s just

My life now.

So I go.

And go.

And go.

Not because I’m strong,

But because stopping

Would shatter me.

When I say,

“Sorry, I was distracted,”

It means I was

Crumpled in a bathroom stall,

Sobbing quietly,

Trying to piece myself back together

Before anyone noticed I was gone.

I run on fumes and fear,

I run from the weight of the stillness,

Until my body can’t carry the day anymore,

And finally,

Blessedly,

My brain is too tired

To conjure the pain.

That’s when I sleep.

Not because I want to,

But because exhaustion

Is my only mercy.

So if you ask me,

“When do you sleep?”

Know that the answer

Isn’t simple.

It’s written in grief,

Fueled by love,

And held together

By a heart still breaking.