Holding a child’s broken heart in the palm of my hand may be one of the most difficulty parts of my journey through parenthood.
Yes, I have 6 children who are all carrying grief in different ways; and in the midst of my own pain, I carry theirs as well, yet never has the job of loving my children been a burden.
How could it be? How could I ever begrudge rubbing salve on bleeding hearts and bandaging up torn spirits.
My Aiden’s grief is like a gaping wound at the moment and it feels like there isn’t enough salve in the world to ease the pain in his heart, nor enough gauze to wrap around his torn and bruised spirit.
He speaks of his pain in simple words, “I miss Buddy”, countless times each day. But his tears and his sweet sad face speak volumes. His best friend is gone. Buddy, who knew him intimately and had the key to his heart, is no longer by his side, wrapped in his embrace; arms tangled in love, so connected that they seemed as one.
Unspeakable really. A relationship that involved few words. Aiden would chatter away with his beautiful broken speech and be fully understood.
Mattie would answer back with his eyes, a tilt of his head, a furrowed brow, or a head fallen back in laughter.
And Aiden knew.
Aiden spoke Mattie’s language.
Mattie knew Aiden’s heart.
And here John and I stand with a jar of slave and a roll of gauze, and it just feels like it’s not enough.
This is real.
This is honest.
This is the pain of parenting children through loss.
Please no advice, just please trust us that we are walking through this together and getting everyone the help and support that they need. Just keep praying and sending thoughts of love our way.