Pardon my ramblings
When my daughter was 18 months old, my sister's friend lost her 18 month-old to a brain tumor. I had met this friend maybe twice, had never even seen the baby. But, as mothers, I guess, we were linked. The night after I'd heard the baby died, after the house was quiet and everyone asleep, I crept into the bathroom. There, on the floor next to the tub, I sobbed and sobbed. I wrote in my journal (long before blogs) and worked through my grief. I have no idea how long I was there. Empathy is a powerful thing. In our attempts to become like the Savior, this is one attribute that is difficult. Not in aquiring it, just the feeling of it. I've often wondered how our Heavenly Parents can handle all the grief and sadness their children experience everyday. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that they are gods and that they have an eternal perspective. For us in our frail human state, this emotion can be overwhelming. My friend is losing her daughter today. She was a vibrant, beautiful 24 year-old. A wife and mother of a 6 month-old daughter. My friend has already had enough tragedy for two lifetimes. I do not understand why some of us have more tragedies than others. I try to keep hold of my faith, my belief that there is certainly a reason for all of it. That in the end we will nod our heads and say, "Oh, yes, now I see." My heart is heavy and I cannot seem to get rid of this knot in my stomach. My throat aches from the effort not to cry. I know that once I start, I won't stop, and I have my own family to care for today. I'll wait until tonight. When the house is quiet and all are asleep I will retire to the bathroom where I can be alone. Only then will I allow myself the luxury of thinking of what she is going through, then I will let my mother's heart feel a portion of what she is feeling. Ok, gotta go. Dinner. Kids. Laundry. Don't cry. Focus.