The year was 1999. Two little boys were born. One was returned to God soon after. As his Mom my heart was broken. Time has softened the edges of sadness. Nineteen years later the other little boy was called home. I call his Mom friend. I do not know her pain. Mine was mine. Hers is her own. We knew our sons for different times and in different ways. Our grief is personal. Our loss, deep. Only one thing is the same. Remembering.
Today it is one year that my friend has travelled this life without her little boy. I can’t help her but I can help others understand her. My nephew lost his precious daughter 20 years ago. As he once told me, we belong to an exclusive club. One we hope no one ever has to join. The price is too high. But the long time members reach out to the new people. A special lady gave me a poem when I joined. It is advice for all of the lucky people who don’t know what to say or do. Just remember…
Go ahead and mention my child, the one that died you know
Don't worry about hurting me further, the depth of my pain doesn't show
Don't worry about making me cry, I'm already crying inside
Help me to heal, by releasing the tears that I try to hide
I'm hurt when you just keep silent, pretending he didn't exist
I'd rather you mentioned my child, knowing that he has been missed
You asked me how I was doing, I said "pretty good" or "fine"
But healing is something ongoing, I know it will take a lifetime...