Extra hugs

Tuesday evening I learned that an old friend of mine from junior high lost (I think unexpectedly) his 4 year old daughter due to undiagnosed brain swelling, and learning this has really weighed heavy on me the last couple days.  I've not been on the helpless end of a tragedy since we've been on the hurting end of our tragedies, but I think it's affected me so much because I can relate so closely to the pain I know that family is feeling right now.  It feels so wrong when a child dies.

I spoke to him earlier today for the first time in 12 years, and I thought about all the things I wanted to tell him to help him and his family through this dark time.  I was nervous about calling, but I decided to because I know just offering words of condolences can be a comfort in and of themselves.  I wanted to say that people will inadvertently say some insensitive things, but to try to look past their words to their intentions.  I wanted to tell him about the anger he will feel but to try to not let it turn into bitterness.  I wanted to tell him about the surreal emptiness that is just too painful to fully comprehend at first but will ease its grip over time.  I wanted to tell him that the mornings when you are alone with your thoughts will be the hardest time of the day.  I wanted to tell him that grieving is an individual journey that each person does at their own pace and in their own way and to be gentle and patient with each other.  I wanted to tell him above all that it's so important to do the work of grief.

But I didn't mention any of those things.  These are all lessons he and his wife will have to learn on their journey, and that saddens me.  I told him there's not much I can say to make it better, it will be hard, and I'm so sorry they have to go through this.

Even before hearing this news, I've thought about what would happen if we lost Savannah.  I look at all the pictures she draws, and I keep the special ones for memories.  I'll see something that's completely unique to her like a strand of her curly hair, a dried out marker, a cheap little silly toy that she enjoys playing with; and I'll leave it where it is - just in case I need it to remind me of her later.  But more specifically, it's times like these that remind me to cherish the loved ones in our lives because we never know if we might not have them with us anymore.  Tonight I made sure to give my little girl extra hugs because I can.