I am sad. A friend at work had a 5 month old baby - Evelyn Grace- who passed away on Sunday. She had leukemia almost from day 1, and the little warrior princess gave it a good fight. Her parents are understandably devastated - both emotionally and financially, I'm sure. If I can hardly think about it without tearing up, I can only imagine the dark place they're in.
And yet - there is hope in the knowledge that we are not forever parted from our loved ones. We will be reunited with them. They aren't lost to us. I know that Brian and Bobbie know this. When they've been able to come up for air, they've expressed their faith in such a belief. I guess my question is this: even though you have that faith, how do you get past TODAY with a wound that's so fresh and raw?
I'll be attending the funeral tomorrow, celebrating (in the parents' words) Evelyn's short time here on earth. I want to go and show support, and try to think about her noble and valiant spirit being free from a body that was consumed with pain and sickness. I like to think she is rejoicing in the fact that she was sent to a mother and father who love her so much, and gave everything they had to make her well, and, when that failed, at least comfortable and secure in their love for her. When she finally slipped away, she was being held by her sweet mother.
I have no idea what to say to Brian and Bobbie. I wish so much that I could tell them something to comfort them or do something that would be meaningful, but I'm coming up with nothing. Maybe being quiet is the best thing for now. There's not much worse than trying to fill an empty hole with awkward chatter and empty platitudes. Why, then, is that my first tendency when I'm nervous? Please just let me be quiet and calm, and listen to their hearts in the silence. Maybe then they'll be able to hear mine.