In the beginning, the colors were gray and dull, with shades of pitch black and searing white blinding me from all other colors. But the colors are brighter now, full and vibrant. The birdsong is louder in my ears. When color and sound returned, they were brighter than I remembered, more beautiful.
Read MoreDo we ever actually “heal” from the death of our child? I would definitely say no. But we integrate their life and death into our own being, into our own story, into our identity. And we emerge with hope, a sign of life. A sign that their life wasn’t in vain. A sign that their life, albeit short, has propelled us towards something more beautiful, something more meaningful, something more profound. And I dare say that this may be one of the most precious gifts our children could have given us.
Read MoreEverything remains so much brighter, so much darker, so much more beautiful and more terrible than I could have ever imagined. But I still love him, and seeing the world with the eyes he gave me, learning the song of his silence he gave me, is part of how I show him that.
Read MoreMaybe that’s where our hope lies -- in this journey, in choosing to be broken, taking in the pain, grieving alone and with others, letting the loss in, and transforming the relationship with our loss children become a part of us in that unique and personal way.
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