My day began fine, but the phone call pierced my heart, and the rest of the hours are cloudy.
“She overdosed. She’s gone.”
“No. No, she didn’t. They are lying. It’s not real. She’s fine.”
I said all of those things, or a few. Maybe some were in my thoughts. Who knows. I went into shock. It took an hour or so to come around and comprehend. When I grasped the truth of the situation, I began sobbing uncontrollably.
“But, she’s pregnant. There’s a baby boy.”
My throat caught and my breath failed to come. I held myself up with the aide of a shelf. The tears I’ve not cried in years began to cascade. A waterfall of grief and pain I could not control.
Our hearts are broken for a grandchild we will never meet, a son in complete despair, a family miles away grieving the loss of their daughter, sister, aunt, niece, or granddaughter.
Drugs take another life. This is the reality. An innocent life taken for the desire of a high. A life we just found out on Thanksgiving was a beautiful baby boy.
God knows. The denial no longer matters. What we don’t want to believe is fact, whether we accept it or not. One choice makes all the difference. We are left to dodge the tides of overwhelming suffering.
God saw. God knows. Nothing is hidden. We will never understand, but eventually there will be peace.
I don’t know when. But it will come.
For now, we continue to cry. The silence is a welcomed guest from the constant pain and chatter about the unknown, the why. There are no answers for us. The nagging ache in our stomachs is a reminder of loss. We can’t take away our son’s agony. We can only come along side him and hope he knows our love.
Whatever tomorrow brings, may he know our love.