Reflections

After a very sad two weeks, a good friend of our family said goodbye to their infant daughter yesterday morning. She passed away peacefully in her parents arms after they had kept a quiet vigil at her bed for days. Last night these friends, one set of grandparents and their oldest daughter came to the Nativity piano recital. They looked tired as expected, but they also looked pretty strong.

The recital was precious - a wide range of skill but no limit on smiles and pride. Seamus and their daughter performed the same song (there were several repeats - I can't imagine how many times the teacher has heard the same 20 songs). If ever there was a moment when we have to realize that life goes on, even when we cannot imagine how, this was one of those poignant times when you realize that there will indeed be a tomorrow.

I have felt consumed with thoughts and prayers for this family - not least because we have a baby as well (all four of my kids are within 6 months of a child from this family) - but because it feels so senseless.

I don't know why bad things happen.Witnessing this tragedy has impacted our whole community, and normally I think I'm good in these kinds of situations, but I felt particularly paralyzed over the last few weeks. I didn't know what to say or to do and as we were leaving last night I listened to someone relay a terrible story about someone dying to my friend. She was gracious and she listened, but it reminded me of the post I wrote after James's dad died.

Seamus and Finn are classmates to two of the baby's sisters and walk together most mornings to school. When I picked up our kids the day the baby went into the hospital, I told them she was sick and I took them to mass.  It was the only thing I could think to do. So all four kids and I went to five o'clock mass and as I walked in I saw another family with kids all the same age, sitting in the back of the church. So we sat together, two moms and 8 kids and we did the only thing we could think to do.

So that's all we've done for the last two weeks - in many cases we'd have had a chance to make meals, help with rides, childcare etc.  But they have a huge extended family and so all those needs were covered.  So we prayed. Many times a day, sometimes in the chapel or at church, but mostly in the car, standing at the sink before meals and bed. When James got home last night we stood holding hands at the back door. We prayed. We prayed. We prayed.

And the one thing that my friend said to me last night that will resonate with me for a long time is that she didn't know how they kept it all together except that she must have been held up, they must have been carried by all the prayers of all the families, the children and the community during this terrible time. And in that uncomfortable, strange way that comfort is a two way street, she made me feel better. Made me realize that all our energy and love may have made a real impact for them.

MJ has the flu and so we're homebound today. She and Thomas are both napping.

Let there never be a day that passes when I don't say I love you.  Or I forget to say thank you for the marvelous gift of these kids. Only today matters.