This is how I feel inside ... but I somehow manage to get out of bed and do everything that's expected of me. Some days are worse than others, and on those bad days, I know the only reason I am able to stand upright is because the Lord is holding me up.
I read an article recently that said grief is like a ball in a box. On the side of the box is a pain button. After a loved ones death, the ball completely fills the box and is constantly pressing against the pain button. Over time, but size of the ball (grief) will get smaller, but it will still occasionally hit the pain button, and when it does, the pain is just as intense as it was in the beginning. Sometimes it will grow large again, hitting the pain button over and over. Eventually, the ball stays small longer and longer, but something can trigger it. It will grow again, but the amount of time it stays larger lessens. But, it doesn't matter how small the ball is, it can always hit the pain button. The ball is always there ... it never goes away entirely.
Right now, "my" ball is still big, and the pain is ever-present, but I know in time it will shrink. The weight on my chest will go away and my stomach won't feel like it's filled with acid.
Sadly, I'm one of the lucky ones, because I know what happened to my child. Some parents of abducted children go to their graves wondering if their child is alive or dead, cold and hungry, afraid and abused. My heart goes out to those parents. How sad it is that I'm "lucky" because I know my son is dead? But I got to say goodbye ... and many parents never get that luxury.