Grief - An Ever Present Companion
Today was an incredibly emotional day for Burke and I as we attended the graveside memorial for the infant son of our fellow ward members, LaNette and Courtney Sowby. On Sunday morning at church, Brent Hunter was very emotional when he announced the sudden birth and subsequent passing of baby Vaughn, born at just 26 weeks gestation. I had felt so cheerful that warm Sunday morning, but this announcement took my breath away and I had to fight for the first 20 minutes of sacrament meeting to keep from falling to pieces. My heart ached for the Sowbys as I remembered all too vividly those first grief enveloped days and weeks. When LaNette later posted that they would hold a graveside for baby Vaughn on Wednesday, May 3, I knew we had to be there to offer them our love and to "mourn with those who mourn."
When I woke up this morning, my heart felt heavy and I must admit I was very short with the girls after Darcie knocked her cup of smoothie off the table, splashing green spinach smoothie all over our white cabinets and floor while Daphne whined that I had cooked the eggs the wrong way! Not my favorite way to start the day.
Later in the morning after getting Alan down for a nap and setting the girls up to play with squinkies for a few moments, I bribed them with warm fuzzies if they could play for 10 minutes peacefully and jumped into the shower. As the hot water poured over me and I had a moment to ask myself why I had felt so low and impatient that morning, a wave of grief hit me with such unexpected force that I had to cover my mouth to muffle my sobs and not awaken baby Alan.
I hadn't felt such uncontrollable grief like this in months. The tears do come often, almost daily, but I can almost always hold them off until a moment of privacy in a bathroom or when the children are sleeping. Generally they fall softly and are of a short duration. I wipe their familiar wetness away, take a deep breathe to give them their moment and then coax those feelings of longing and aching for my perfect son to retreat back into their permanent foundation in my heart, until they inevitably make an appearance a day or two later.
However, today they came in a torrent of raw grief, uncontrollable lamenting that would not be tamed. They screamed out to be felt now, not tonight when the house finally grows still, but right now. I mourned with a similar intensity to that very first agonizing day when the absence of Aiden's little heartbeat shattered our world.
When the downpour had finally run its course, my 10 minutes had turned into 20 and I felt a pounding headache moving its way into my temples. As I quickly shampooed, I questioned how long these throbbing feelings would last. In answer, I recalled the other angel mamas who had reached out with losses of their own and confirmed my suspicions: the heartache and the missing never end, we just learn to cope with it for longer periods of time before the dam breaks.
By the time we got to the graveside, I had my emotions in check and only went through a couple of Kleenex rather than the whole box. It was a lovely service, but it was also very trying as I relived our own loss of Aiden compounded with the new pain of baby Vaughn. However, I felt the spirit's loving presence when one of LaNette's brothers shared the following quote from Joseph Smith.
At the close of the service, we were able to express love and condolences to the Sowbys and the Traceys (LaNette's parents). On Sunday, Burke had sent Courtney a text telling him how sorry we were for their loss and our desire to be there for them. At the end, Burke felt prompted to tell Courtney that he felt strongly that Vaughn was ok. So today, when the crowd had died down a little and we stepped forward, Courtney began to weep as he embraced us saying, "Now here is someone who understands exactly what we are going through. Burke, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that text the other night. I can't thank you enough for what you said." It was a very tender moment for all of us.
I felt that I was able to hold it together fairly well until we got home, but I was emotionally exhausted, my head was pounding and I felt depressed at the thought of being left alone to care cheerfully for our children while Burke went back to work. As if I needed any more evidence, Burke proved yet again to be the most amazing husband a woman could ever ask for. He saw my pain and weariness, put Darcie down for a nap, took Alan from me and sent me to bed saying he would call into work and let them know he would be a bit later. I knew that Burke had been struggling on some challenging loans at work and how stressed he was about getting them done in time, but he didn't say one word about them. It was the kindest thing he could have possibly done for me and I napped in sweet oblivion for an hour while he took care of Alan, picked up Daphne from school, played a round of chess with her and got Alan down for a nap before gently waking me with a kiss as he headed back to work. I don't know how I got so lucky, but I try so hard to be good to this man of mine and he always seems to be miles ahead of me.
After rest and prayer, my heart is at peace again, but the reality remains: I miss my boy. I miss my son. I miss my Aiden Burke.
When I woke up this morning, my heart felt heavy and I must admit I was very short with the girls after Darcie knocked her cup of smoothie off the table, splashing green spinach smoothie all over our white cabinets and floor while Daphne whined that I had cooked the eggs the wrong way! Not my favorite way to start the day.
Later in the morning after getting Alan down for a nap and setting the girls up to play with squinkies for a few moments, I bribed them with warm fuzzies if they could play for 10 minutes peacefully and jumped into the shower. As the hot water poured over me and I had a moment to ask myself why I had felt so low and impatient that morning, a wave of grief hit me with such unexpected force that I had to cover my mouth to muffle my sobs and not awaken baby Alan.
I hadn't felt such uncontrollable grief like this in months. The tears do come often, almost daily, but I can almost always hold them off until a moment of privacy in a bathroom or when the children are sleeping. Generally they fall softly and are of a short duration. I wipe their familiar wetness away, take a deep breathe to give them their moment and then coax those feelings of longing and aching for my perfect son to retreat back into their permanent foundation in my heart, until they inevitably make an appearance a day or two later.
However, today they came in a torrent of raw grief, uncontrollable lamenting that would not be tamed. They screamed out to be felt now, not tonight when the house finally grows still, but right now. I mourned with a similar intensity to that very first agonizing day when the absence of Aiden's little heartbeat shattered our world.
When the downpour had finally run its course, my 10 minutes had turned into 20 and I felt a pounding headache moving its way into my temples. As I quickly shampooed, I questioned how long these throbbing feelings would last. In answer, I recalled the other angel mamas who had reached out with losses of their own and confirmed my suspicions: the heartache and the missing never end, we just learn to cope with it for longer periods of time before the dam breaks.
By the time we got to the graveside, I had my emotions in check and only went through a couple of Kleenex rather than the whole box. It was a lovely service, but it was also very trying as I relived our own loss of Aiden compounded with the new pain of baby Vaughn. However, I felt the spirit's loving presence when one of LaNette's brothers shared the following quote from Joseph Smith.
“We have again the warning voice sounded in our midst, which shows the uncertainty of human life; and in my leisure moments I have meditated upon the subject, and asked the question, why it is that infants, innocent children, are taken away from us. The strongest reasons that present themselves to my mind are these: This world is a very wicked world … The Lord takes many away, even in infancy, that they may escape the envy of man, and the sorrows and evils of this present world; they were too pure, too lovely, to live on earth; therefore, if rightly considered, instead of mourning we have reason to rejoice as they are delivered from evil, and we shall soon have them again…
“… The only difference between the old and young dying is, one lives longer in heaven and eternal light and glory than the other, and is freed a little sooner from this miserable, wicked world. Notwithstanding all this glory, we for a moment lose sight of it, and mourn the loss, but we do not mourn as those without hope.”5
“A question may be asked—‘Will mothers have their children in eternity?’ Yes! Yes! Mothers, you shall have your children; for they shall have eternal life, for their debt is paid.”
This and other comforting quotes on death from chapter 14 in the Joseph Smith manual found HERE.At the close of the service, we were able to express love and condolences to the Sowbys and the Traceys (LaNette's parents). On Sunday, Burke had sent Courtney a text telling him how sorry we were for their loss and our desire to be there for them. At the end, Burke felt prompted to tell Courtney that he felt strongly that Vaughn was ok. So today, when the crowd had died down a little and we stepped forward, Courtney began to weep as he embraced us saying, "Now here is someone who understands exactly what we are going through. Burke, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that text the other night. I can't thank you enough for what you said." It was a very tender moment for all of us.
I felt that I was able to hold it together fairly well until we got home, but I was emotionally exhausted, my head was pounding and I felt depressed at the thought of being left alone to care cheerfully for our children while Burke went back to work. As if I needed any more evidence, Burke proved yet again to be the most amazing husband a woman could ever ask for. He saw my pain and weariness, put Darcie down for a nap, took Alan from me and sent me to bed saying he would call into work and let them know he would be a bit later. I knew that Burke had been struggling on some challenging loans at work and how stressed he was about getting them done in time, but he didn't say one word about them. It was the kindest thing he could have possibly done for me and I napped in sweet oblivion for an hour while he took care of Alan, picked up Daphne from school, played a round of chess with her and got Alan down for a nap before gently waking me with a kiss as he headed back to work. I don't know how I got so lucky, but I try so hard to be good to this man of mine and he always seems to be miles ahead of me.
After rest and prayer, my heart is at peace again, but the reality remains: I miss my boy. I miss my son. I miss my Aiden Burke.
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