Lunch Break

Normally, I have a purpose for writing. It is important to have a purpose or else you just end up rambling without really saying much. But, today, I don't really have a purpose other than it is my lunch break, but I ate my sandwhich in about two minutes and have twenty eight left. Sometimes, I feel like I might actually bust if I don't write. Today is one of those times.

Our family has been through an interesting experience recently. By interesting, I do not mean something that might be fun and exciting to experience yourself. I mean, unusual, strange, and wholy tragic, but like a car accident, everyone wants to know what happened and what all was involved.

What happened and what all was involved is not my story to tell. But the gist is this: my sister and brother-in-law lost their baby. We lost a nephew. My parents lost a grandson. My daughters lost a cousin. He wasn't born yet - about twenty six weeks left to go. That is irrelevant. I can't speak about the pain and loss that his parents and sister are experiencing. That is their experience to share, if they choose to.

I was sitting here, in this spot, waiting for my brother-in-law to text me so I could get to work on a gender cake, or cupcakes actually. My phone lit up, and the words there is something wrong with the baby  flashed onto the little screen.  The rest is mostly a blur and sort of makes me sick to my stomach to think about. I know that I just wanted to hold my own baby and kiss her face, but she wasn't home. I was alone so I started cleaning up because I couldn't do anything else. I couldn't make it easier for them and didn't have the words that needed to be spoken - only God had those words. But I cried for them and for the little child I had already pictured holding. I can't, and really don't want to, imagine how they feel. How the world must look different somehow - a little darker than before.

This is not my story. It is not for me to come to grips with or learn how to handle. This is the type of hurt that lingers because there are no memories to share. No pictures. No videos. No artifacts. Just the whispers of what might have been.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with loss - great or small. Great or small isn't for anyone else to determine. I don't like the cliches that so many say, and I have heard myself saying a few. We say them because we can't stand silence and feel we must say something. But there really aren't any words. I can't imagine that it makes them feel that much better to hear that the baby is in heaven or that they will always have an angel. I am sure that, really, they'd rather have the baby here and not in heaven. But that isn't really PC to say outloud, is it.

So, I guess I've said all that to say this, I love them very much. I wish that I had the power to undo it, but that is not a possiblity. We can only be here to help pick the pieces back up when they all fall apart - that is what families do. Other's loss makes you count your blessings. Well, I am counting and recounting.