Losing A Child

My 6 year old nephew died in his sleep on Monday afternoon. I could never imagine this happening to me (as a mother, not a six year old). I spend a fair amount of time desperately not imagine this happening to me.

So when I went to see my cousin last night, I never once thought about what the agony must be like – him being there all her life (or what seems like it – like me she got pregnant really young), him being her life… and then just being gone the next moment. What I didn’t expect was that she’d even notice we were there, or if she did, that it could possibly matter. What I didn’t expect was that she’d be clinging to us being there like a bit of sense in the middle of the craziness of her baby being dead.

What I did expect was all the people sitting in her room telling her how it must feel, what tomorrow will be like – and even crazier – what next week will be like, and the answers to questions she hasn’t even begun to ask yet – like why, and why him, and why her.

Human beings are supposed to have the innate ability to sense what people need from then and if they feel sorry enough for you, they instantly produce an access of it.

If I for one moment have to imagine losing a child, I would imagine the right thing to say – the only thing to say to me- would be “Wow, that must really suck. Can I have another biscuit?” – 03 July 2008