February 11, 2016
I never imagined what it would be like to lose a child. Who wants to imagine that? How horrible.
When people say, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” I say, “Don’t even try to. You don’t want to know this pain.” I don’t want to know it either.
I try to talk to the kids about Delia Grace and just see where they are, what questions they have, etc. I asked them, “Where is Delia Grace?” Liam (age 2) said, “Sleeping.” Isaac (age 4), face beaming, said, “She’s with Jesus.” Michael (age 5), “She’s in heaven. I know that’s a fact.” All true.
Yet, there is no peace. There is no acceptance. I don’t even know what that means. I’m never going to say, “I’m okay with her dying.” I’m never going to think it’s the right thing for me. I didn’t want her to die. I want her to be alive, growing up with our family. I wanted her. I loved her. I still want her. I still love her.
I am faithful, but I have fears. Will another of my children be taken from me?
I want God to know that I believe. I accept that this is His will. Still, it’s still not what I want for my life or hers. I miss her so badly. I just want to hold her, feel her, smell her. I will always want that. I love her. She is my heart.
I agree. No peace or acceptance here, either. Living with the pain rather than recovering from the pain. The pain changes, but it’s always there. My son is missing from my arms.
I’m always thinking of you, Elizabeth, and your blog here is a beautiful tribute to your daughter. Importantly, I know it will be a great help to many. I applaud and appreciate your ability to share your grieving heart through your writing.
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Thank you, Laura. God bless.