Today, I have recounted Kathy's arrival (Woody's mother). The loss of a child has been termed the worst type of bereavement. Let me separate this from miscarriage. We suffered two miscarriages, one at seven weeks and the other at 15 weeks. Miscarriage is a difficult loss, but it is more the loss of opportunity. I never held those children in my arms and nursed them at my breast. I did not stay up through the nights they were sick and nurse them back to health. I did not cry at their weddings and beam as they had children of their own. Woody's parents held and protected and loved their child for 43 years. Their loss is one that I hope to never understand. Please keep them in your constant prayers as they continue to heal.
The following is an exert from the book I am currently writing:
"So much of those first days is a
blur. I felt as if I were walking through a fog, numb, confused, trying to
process what had happened. There were so many people, yet I felt completely alone.
There is no way to explain it. Everyone was so helpful, which is exactly what I
needed because I could not function. My thoughts were scattered and incoherent.
Someone arranged a service to pick up Kathy, Woody’s mom, and Dani, my
sister-in-law, from the airport. Food was delivered. Conversations took
place around me, yet I could not focus on what anyone was saying.
When Kathy arrived, the tears that I
thought had run dry began anew. Woody had always been extremely close to his
mother. He adored her. They were so similar in so many ways. They both enjoyed
cooking, loved serving others, and were extremely sociable. He called his
mother nearly every day. I wondered how she would survive the loss of her
oldest child—the darling baby boy who had first made her a mother. For 43 years
she had celebrated life with him and had done all she could to ensure his
happiness and safety. My heart broke for both of us. I knew that I could not
endure the loss she now suffered.
There was nothing to say to either of
us to soothe the pain—no words can bring comfort when death shatters your
world. We held each other and cried, spoke a few words about next steps and
then collapsed in each other’s arms again. I wondered if the tears would ever
cease. How could we ever feel whole again without the man who brought so much
life and laughter into every day? He was the glue that held us all together and
made certain that we spent as much time together as possible, even when nearly
half a continent separated us.
