Here it is, nearly nine months in, and I am LOST. Lost, lost, LOST. The waves of grief have swelled to enormous heights again, and here I am, unsuccessfully treading water. I am coughing, sputtering, and thinking about not flailing about anymore in anguish, desperately trying to save myself. What would be the point? No matter how much ground I gain, I end up back here, carried away by the strong current of loss. I am tired. I am so tired. Does it get easier? I sure hope so. With Mother’s Day around the corner, it sure doesn’t feel any easier.