As the overwhelming feeling of loss and sorrow came crashing down on me, it was enough to slowly stir my sleeping consciousness awake. I didn’t have to open my eyes. I knew I was just having the same nightmare I always had. In fact, instead of opening my eyes from the remembered fear, I closed them tighter and clutched my chest, while I balled my blanket up in my fist, burying my tear-soaked cheeks.
I was awake, it was over, and I waited for the leftover feelings from that traumatizing day that haunted my memories to subside. It was a long time ago. I’d grown since. It was silly for me to still be mourning the loss of that darned teddy bear. But still, every night, I relived that awful day in my dreams and woke up back as that helpless eight-year-old girl on her birthday. Eventually, I came to my senses and realized it had been over nine years since that day; I wasn't that little girl anymore. But even still, it never failed to feel so real.
It was more than just the loss of a simple teddy bear.