Sorrow

I don't make a habit of ranking sorrow. Or grief. It is a thing unto itself.

It is what it is.

I've had people say to me that because they have but one child I can't understand their fear of losing that child. Because I have three. As if any one of them is dispensable, or disposable, or replaceable. Or something.

I have lost three. Their young lives ripped, ravaged and painfully pulled apart from mine and I was young, afraid, and even amidst family and friends I was so alone. I know now that I was pretty unconscious during all of it. I've often felt bad about that. Like I didn't "show up" well enough.

But other times I think that was a gift.

My three girls are precious to me. Perhaps more so (to me) because I know how fragile life is. Even looking at their robust features and dealing with the petty annoyances. Fragile.

Today a family in Vermont is dealing with the loss of a baby girl. They shared their journey and I felt so much of the hope, fear, pain and sorrow that I wasn't able to feel earlier in my life. Thirty years ago.

My mother's heart breaks. Because that's what mother's hearts do. They break. Over and over and over. That's probably why they're so strong.

Good bye Jane. Much love to you and your family.