When all the fight is gone

Life is a series of battles. Some are worth fighting and some we just have to concede. There are some rules meant to be broken and lines meant to be crossed. By standing firm in our convictions and breaking through boundaries, we grow, we progress, we improve.

But in the greatest of fights, there often comes a time where there seems little choice left but to raise the white flag and accept defeat. When you’ve been broken and torn, emotionally drained, disappointed and deflated, and all you want is just the smallest hint of relief, it’s easier just to quit.

Quit fighting. Desert the cause. Abort the mission. Let the other guy win. Roll over, play dead, and hope you survive despite the war that surrounds you.

As a mother who lost her child, every single second is a battle. A battle to remember the gifts I have and not what I lost. A battle to honor and acknowledge each and every minute I am blessed to walk this Earth and have an opportunity to improve it, touch someone’s life, make anything better, somehow.

I fight to survive in a world without my son, but I fight harder to exist as a person, a woman, a mother, who can still love with her whole heart, even though it’s been broken. There are many days, many moments within each day, where I feel I don’t have any fight left. But I will never, ever quit. For me, to quit is to lose. And losing is no longer an option.

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