How is it, when something really bad happens to somebody good, that the world doesn’t  just stop?  It seemed so strange to me, to walk outside a few days ago and see that the sun was shining, the sky was robin’s egg blue, the air was cool and breezy, just the perfect temperature.  Most people, I imagine, would have declared the day to be “perfect” or “beautiful.”  I can even hear the conversations in my mind, of people outside, walking in the park, on their way to lunch “I wish every day could be like this…”  and the response, “Yeah, me too! Isn’t this fantastic?” 

But most people would not know that a friend of mine just suffered a parent’s worst nightmare, just lost her first child to a stillbirth, little more than a week before the baby was due.

And I cannot fathom it.  I swear that on the day it happened the skies should have darkened, storms should have raged, the seas should have churned black waters as lightning bolts were thrown from the heavens.  And yet, they didn’t.

The day was bright and clear, in absolute contrast to the drama and horror and sadness that was unfolding in a hospital room across town.  The darkness…  Darkness of spirit and emotion and grief and pain over a life dreamed of, sought, achieved, nurtured, then lost, in the blink of an eye, for no apparent reason at all.  A life that ended even before drawing its very first breath.  A life that can now only be remembered for what might have been, was so close to being, but never was… at least not outside the womb. 

And yet, other lives go on.  People have their daily routines and they continue…  lunch dates, business meetings, dinner reservations, homework, television, football practice, errands, music lessons, baths, bedtime, whatever the routines are, for most people, they carry on, the world spins on it’s axis as it always does. This is true for me, and it’s probably true for you too.  That’s the way the world works. 

But suddenly it seems bizarre that it should work like that.  It seems like there should have been some other kind of notice of what was happening, of what had happened.  Perhaps a tiny blip in the earth’s rotation, a slight bump, a sudden storm, a “let me have your attention please,” kind of moment.  A funny feeling, an intuitive knowledge.  A notice other than a ringing phone…

It’s not my tragedy, I know that.  But I am a mother.  And the loss of a child is the fear of every mother.  It hits, as they say, close to home.

And so I grieve for my friend and her husband and their lost child.  And I simply wonder WHY?  and  NOW WHAT?



Filed under death, loss

10 responses to “Why?

  1. Jen

    Oh, Belle, my sympathies to your friend. I can’t even begin to imagine how it must be for her. And it’s just as hard being her friend, and being a mom, too. I’m so sorry.

  2. I’m so terribly sorry. A very dear friend of mine suffered the devastating loss of her first baby when she went into labor. I lost what was left of my faith in god that day and never got it back. I still try hard to let her know that her baby, who should have started kindergarten this year, is remembered and loved, but it’s all so wrong, he should be right there slamming the back door and leaving his muddy shoes in the hall.

    Please let me know if you decide to do some kind of online memorial for the baby, I’d like to participate.

  3. Thank you, Robin. That’s very kind of you.

  4. Jo

    My sympathies are also with your friend Belle- I lost my first baby, a boy , seven and a half years ago – its not something you ever forget but life does go on strangely.

    Life is a b*tch sometimes….

    My thoughts with anyone who has gone through a loss.

  5. Thank you, Jo. I’m sorry to hear you suffered a loss yourself. I cannot imagine how you go on after that, but people manage to do it everyday, somehow. I don’t know where the strength comes from but given the tragedies in this world there must be a deep reservoir of it somewhere.

  6. there is no what next… just life, going on in an eerie way until someday that horrible sorrow is just a part of life. It never will go away… It never will be forgotten… and it shouldn’t be.

    I’m so sorry for your friend and for the terrible loss.

  7. Jo Beaufoix

    Oh belle I am so sorry for you and your friends and their little one.
    You’re right it is every parents worse nightmare.

  8. oh my…yes….at times like that it seems so unfair that the world goes on. It seems unlikely that anyone should have a good day on a day like that.
    I am so sorry for your friend’s loss.

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