Posts Tagged ‘Loss’

Sorry For Your Loss

September 9, 2022

I always want to say the perfect thing when someone’s mother dies, but there are no perfect words.

This Just Needs To Be Said More Often

May 3, 2022

Sometimes you can do everything right and still lose.

I Hope That’s Understandable

July 10, 2020

About yesterday’s post . . .

Just to clear up any ambiguity, yesterday I received some unexpected news regarding an unexpected death. Maybe I’ll talk about it more in the future, and maybe I won’t; the only thing I’m sure of at the moment is that I’m not going to say anything more here about it today.

And I’m Just Going To Leave It At That For Now

July 9, 2020

It’s amazing to me that no matter how long ago something happened to someone you knew, it hits you just as hard the moment you find out about it even if it’s old news to everybody else.

A Follow-up Letter To L(A) (Part Five)

May 27, 2016

Regardless . . . now matter how or why this happened, be it due to capricious and uncaring chance, or if there was intent behind this, be it divine or simply yours, the fact remains that my personal space is missing you right now.  Even before this began I knew there was no absolute certainty in your arrival, but usually when I think that way I’m just preparing for “the worst.”  Most of the time that preparation isn’t actually required.

This time it was.

Speaking of time, time will tell if we’ll ever get to meet outside of my dreams, and for now I’m content to wait and see.  If you changed your mind once about being born, the way I figure it, you can always change your mind again, and I’m honestly hoping that you do, but if you don’t . . .

Well . . . there’s always plenty of room for another girl of my dreams.

Either way, I’ll leave the light on for you, kiddo.

A Follow-up Letter To L(A) (Part Four)

May 26, 2016

In my previous letter I mentioned that boys and girls end up facing different challenges in this culture, and your . . . non-arrival has particularly underscored that for me.

While your mother and Lala have been dealing with bouts of understandable sadness, I’ve found my biggest challenge has been in dealing with bouts of anger, not at you, but at the situation in general.  More than once I’ve had to forcibly remind myself that somebody meant well in their gesture, particularly when my gut reaction was . . . in violation of the social contract that frowns upon the idea of hitting someone just because they feel that tragedy is a good time to start talking about “God’s plan.”

(Yes, some people do take comfort in that idea, but I’m just not one of them.  The best *I* can do when someone says that to me is recognize the good intent behind the words, grit my teeth, smile, and thank them for the thought.)

I’ve also had to deal with a few times of resisting the urge to say, “Back off, man, we’re men for God’s sake!” when dealing with condolences from some of my male acquaintances, but in that case I’m just playing up social stereotypes to preserve my need for personal space.

A Follow-up Letter To L(A) (Part Three)

May 25, 2016

For my part it helps for me to think that you just changed your mind about being born right now.  I know there are those who would take issue with me thinking that, but that’s what my instincts are telling me, so in the absence of facts to the contrary, I’m going with my instincts.

Maybe something was starting to go wrong in your development.  Maybe your mother wasn’t as physically ready to safely carry you to term as we thought.  Maybe you were sparing all of us further grief down the line.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

I’m just going to have to trust that you made the right call on this one.

A Follow-up Letter To L(A) (Part Two)

May 24, 2016

So . . . you’re not going to be born right now, after all.

That’s . . . disappointing.

It’s not easy dealing with the disappointment, but we’re all managing here, more or less.  Some times are easier than others, of course, but that’s all part of the process.  Rest assured that we’ll be fine.


A Follow-up Letter To L(A) (Part One)

May 23, 2016

Well, daughter . . . here we are.

Figuratively speaking, I’m sad to say.

Plans certainly do change, now don’t they?