WHEN DEATH COMES TOO SOON

Fourteen years ago we welcomed my daughter’s second baby girl. Five and a half months later, she left us behind. I visited her grave this morning, like I do every year on this day and the day she left, and put a small bouquet of flowers from my yard on her headstone; flowers from my garden because it feels more personal than purchasing them. Every time I go, I cry. I think I won’t, but I do.

Losing a child, or a grandchild, is one of the hardest things anyone has to go through and unless you have experienced it you can’t ever really know what it feels like; the disbelief, the confusion, the refusal to accept. How can this happen? Why? Your heart is torn. Your mind bleeds. Your soul cries out in agony. And losing a grandchild is, perhaps, hardest of all because you not only lose a precious grandbaby, but your heart grieves for your own child; for the suffering she is going through, knowing you can’t help her. You can’t take her suffering away. You can only watch her hurting; watch the darkness hover over her. And weep.

The shortest verse in the Bible: Jesus wept. When I weep, He weeps. He is touched by my grief. He understands my sorrow. So, I trust Him….with my tears and my pain. And I trust Him with her, my little one. I know she is with Him; growing up in that happy place. I know we will all see her again one day and be reunited in love. I know…., but for now I visit her grave, leave her some flowers, and I cry.

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