Sorrow

Last week, a friend kissed her kids goodbye as they went to school. Three left, and only two came home. Her 7 year old was killed in a car accident that afternoon. How does one ever manage to go on after that? Yet, parents of dead children DO go on, but it takes my breath away thinking about it.

My grandparents lost a child tragically prior to having my father. A picture of their little girl hangs on my living room wall, because even after nearly 70 years, I want everyone to know that she existed. I think it would make them smile to know that her picture is in our home. This is a child I never knew, but from the time I knew of her very existance, she carved out a place in my mind, and I knew a piece of my grandparents' sorrow.

My friend buried her youngest son today. Initially, I thought that the funeral would be the worst part. Facing all those people...but those people are an outpouring of love, of people who are grieving too. Those people will go back to their lives tomorrow, and then my friend will be alone with her immediate family. With the fading echoes of her son in the house. A mom of three, but only two with her. The hard part starts tomorrow.

Often, people are afraid to call, afraid to ask how the grief-stricken are doing. We tend to ask "Let me know if there is anything I can do." Well, since we can't turn back time and can't bring her child back to life there is virtually nothing anyone can "do". So we say these things out of desire to want to help, and helplessness knowing that there is virtually nothing that will help. A meal, a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, and endless river of tears.

This is heartbreak beyond my understanding.