Living with Loss

  Some of us gathered to remember our children, it was a sad and beautiful thing. As we stood in the chill of a Florida evening and shared memories of our children, they were with us in a way. Each parent shared an item that evoked memories, stuffed toys, food, photos, or some memento and then explained why they brought that particular thing. How wonderful children are, and not just the child himself or herself, but all the joy and wonderment they bring to our lives and to our world. We are a world filled with millions of unique souls. I feel so privileged and honored to know these children in such a special way, that these parents, once unknown to me, have embraced my pain and hold me in their supportive arms. They stand beside me today, and will be with me tomorrow or a decade from now, for they walk in my shoes. I deeply care for each of them, I want to help carry their burden and share this sorrow with them. There is healing that comes from sharing and embracing each other&

When Wyatt was a little boy and didn't feel well, he often struggled to explain what or where or how he hurt. What does it feel like, I would ask. "It's blue pain," he replied. As a mom, this frustrated me so because I knew something was ailing him, but " blue " pain didn't help me in determining what was wrong and how I could soothe him. I lamented over this many a time as he used this term for quite a while.  I finally determined it just meant he didn't feel well. As an adult we may have an off day where we just feel like hunkering down in the safety of a blanket, and escaping in the words of a good book. There are times we just need to be, not think, care, or worry... just be. Blue pain is not obvious. Blue pain is encompassing and nefarious. Grief has become my blue pain. Grief doesn't present itself so prominently any more, like a stomachache or headache;. This grief used to strut around like a rooster. I knew its presence, as did ot