On Death and Dying

Aunt Becky is dealing with the loss of a friend.

A little girl friend.  A child.  Just like my child.  But both of mine are alive and well, and this one…well, she’s not anymore.

And I am sad about this.  Sad about the world that allows a parent to outlive a child.

Sad about the loss of a future world that doesn’t include this amazing person.

I am sad for the loss of potential life and greatness.  I am sad for the things she will never get to see, the love she will never feel, the hurt and loss that she will never experience.

I am sad.  Soul sad.

And I don’t know this little person or her parents.  I don’t know what a perfectly perfect little person she really was in life.  And still, I am sad.

Because every child that is lost — is somehow my child.  And every child that is sick or hurt or dying, is somehow my child.

And that is the truth of being a parent.  The truth that no one ever tells you. The truth that can’t be explained.

Once you become a parent, every child everywhere has your child’s face, smiles your child’s smile.

And every child that dies is somehow, just a little, your child.

And it is just a little.

Because clearly my grief is nothing compared to the parents of this little girl, but it is there.  It is real.

And I am so sad for this family.

So sad for us all.


3 thoughts on “On Death and Dying

  1. thank you for this post. I thought about writing something similar today, but I can’t bring myself to do it because I will cry. And I’m at work. So thank you, again. You’ve said it all perfectly

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