My dear friend is having her baby soon. A daughter. A month before Grace was due. We declared them bff's after the sonogram told me that mine was in fact, not another boy.
I want to stand in the field and scream at the heavens until I am hoarse. For just a moment I'd like You to be silent and distant, and let me be angry. Why is her baby girl healthy and alive? Why is mine dead and buried, and her brothers asking a dozen questions a day about why she can't be here when we have already bought her clothes.
My friend carried my grief so earnestly that we could feel the weight of it alleviate at her prayers. She was broken hearted and wept a river for us. She brought us a meal and flowers and stood with us at Gracie's grave.
In a month I will rejoice with her. I will hold her sweet girl and break all over again. I will bring her a meal and flowers and stand with her at a nursery window gazing at her perfect girl. I will carry her joy as closely to my heart as she carried my grief.
And I will learn how to spend the rest of my life not comparing how old Gracie should be everytime we see this sweet baby at play dates, parades and Christmas Eve brunch.
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