Your dad and I grew in our relationship in ways I didn’t know were possible. But that growth came excruciatingly and at great cost. If I could tell you only one thing about the life we built after you were gone: it’s this: we are a very happy family. But we wish you were here, too.
Read MoreI lie in bed and watch in contented silence as the clock turns over to midnight, two cherished living children asleep in my arms, and a gaping wound just as big as ever but which curiously few can still see. The ocean spits me back out and I heave a sigh of relief. Another round of grief's fury, survived. Eight months to recover before it begins again anew.
Read MoreHi! Last time I saw you, you were pregnant, and you must have had the baby! Congratulations! I signaled back with a grimace and gesture at the phone to indicate that I was on an important call and couldn’t talk right now. After our run-in, Jill was still walking around in her version of reality in which my daughter was alive. Our wordless interlude had given me a glimpse into an alternate universe — the one I wished I lived in, in which I had a phone full of photos of my soon-to-be toddler. The one in which people’s faces light up when they run into me on the street.
Read MoreHe lived, and by doing so he changed us, and in death, he changed us even more. On the outside we may look the same, but our journey with him started a chapter I had never imagined possible. It is not over yet. I do not want to finish it. By not collecting the urn, I do not have to.
Read MoreEven then, in the midst of the before, I had light in my eyes. I buried myself in my career, and spent my days planning adventures with my husband. In retrospect, maybe they were distractions. But the laughter outweighed almost everything, and I was relatively content with the person staring back at me in the mirror during that period of my life. I slept through the night. Something I wish I hadn’t taken for granted then.
Read MoreBereaved parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion, and the other side of getting through this mess called grief.
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Parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion we learn for others, having been through this mess — and see it reflected back at you, acknowledged and understood.
Thanks to photographer Xin Li and to artist Stephanie Sicore for their respective illustrations and photos.
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