A beautiful, sad day

It was a beautiful, sad day today.

And it served as a reminder that sometimes there are no words that can adequately explain pain.

But this is not my story, just my brief experience as an outsider looking into the window of another family.

Brief as it was, it left a mark.

So I’ll explain.

It has been a rather humid summers week and we decided that we should take advantage of the weather and enjoy a family excursion to our lovely local beach.

Husband and I basked in the thrills of Master One and Miss Three frolicking on the ocean shore and collecting fish eggs and seashells for their sandcastle. When the kids started looking tired and requiring a pick me up we took them for a “special treat” – an icecream at a playground.

Since becoming a parent I’ve loved the socialisation that children gain within minutes at a park. Our bubbly Miss Three is quite the butterfly of playtime and is always quick to befriend other children and invite them to play games of hide and seek and pirates. Within seconds of arriving she was running around with young boy and a young girl, aged around three and five.

Whilst they were playing I noticed how sweet these children were to our Master One; inviting him in the cubby houses and even helping him up play equipment. Even though they could have been running off doing “bigger kid” activities they were very tender and kind to him.

I started chatting away to their Grandmother who was standing beside us and watching them play. And delightfully mentioned how inclusive her grandchildren were.

She then said something that floored me.

“It’s probably because they lost their baby brother at 7 weeks. He found him,” she said motioning towards the boy.

I was dumbfounded. My husband and I were shocked but managed to string a few petty and inadequate sentences together about how horrible that would be and the poor child.

But I couldn’t begin to imagine how a young boy would even begin processing that information.

I quietly stayed shattered on the inside at something so tragic. I’ve never liked the idea of crocodile tears as this was a family’s story I knew nothing about. But since becoming a parent my empathy meter has quadrupled and instantly my heart ached for this little boy finding his baby brother forever sleeping. I blinked a few tears away.

We continued chatting whilst the kids played together, ours, oblivious to such tragedy.

It seems nothing I could write could possibly explain the complexities of grief this family was experiencing. But without knowing what the Grandmother just told me, we would never have known.

I guess none of us ever really know what each other is experiencing.

As I write this a summer storm has just dramatically started.

I’ll hug my children extra hard tonight.

Day Forty-eight – Lost

The anger ate away at a heart

and rusted a mind

an irritation like no other

a diseased all consuming world

that was born from hurt

the mirror unrecognisable

as scars clouded judgement

day and night blended together

life passed by without living

a walking graveyard of dreams

ripped from a hidden facade

hopes vanished in the night

a world perished without knowing why

and what was left

was a heart burning of pain

until all was lost but

anguish over a life gone

and the bitterness that stings

is that most of all

it was anger at the person in the mirror

who handed over trust so readily

so loyally

with rational judgement screaming against it

there is no greater lament

than anger at oneself.

Day Thirty-one – Through your eyes

Through your eyes
I see your struggle
and pain,

such a painted smile
with all it hides,
yet a disposition
so positive
and light,

a beautiful soul
beams through
all in dark nights.

Just to think of you
living with it all,

I think of
your glow
and sense through
it all,

and I am immensely
proud of how far you
have come,

and that I am
one of the lucky ones,
for knowing a soul;
with an ethereal gleam,

to have one such life
wound in my own,

I will always attest
makes me resoundingly,
blessed.