First

First.

Deep breath, my dear one. Your breathing is shallow and high, choked by the tightening in your throat, The black weight sitting on the top of your lungs. You must remember what living is like and this is the first step. Deep breath. Breathe, just once. Then do it again.

Second. 

With a soft voice, I am going to tell you something terrible. 

Your child is finished with their human experience and you are not. 

Your child’s soul was lifted out and as it rose it grew and unfurled into myriad, unspeakable refracted colors and pure light. They rise, spinning, laughing, into the joyous embrace of the countless many, music vibrating around them and lifting them even higher, filled with knowing, and love, love, love, love. 

But,

You are here.

You are still here.

Diminished and gasping for air.

Sputtering.

Arms empty.

But,

You are not alone.