Dear Mark and Stephanie,
You have just joined a club no one ever wanted to be a member of. How I wish no one has to wear the label of grieving parent. It’s one thing I wish we didn’t have in common, but because we are both here together, I’ll be here.
When you walk slowly out of the hospital into the sunshine with empty arms, wondering where to go from here, I’ll be here.
When guilt creeps in and tries to make you question your decisions, I’ll be here.
When you walk by her bedroom door and break down at the sight of all that was hers, I’ll be here.
When you struggle through all the “what-ifs,” I’ll be here.
When you numbly stumble through the surreality of laying her to rest, I’ll be here.
When you have to put your own grieving on hold to help her siblings in their grief, I’ll be here.
When school starts back up and her backpack still hangs on the hook, I’ll be here.
When people ask you how many kids you have and you struggle with what to say, I’ll be here.
When her birthday rolls around and you’re ripped apart by her not growing a year older, I’ll be here.
When the days and months and years tick by and your grief ebbs and flows like the ocean waves, I’ll still be here.
I will walk with you when you find new memories that make you smile, and I will sit with you when the sadness is too crushing to function. I’ll support you as you forge through the future, finding a new kind of normal. I will help you remember the good times, and I will never stop saying her name. I will be here as the landscape of your life takes on a new shape; one that you never hoped for or imagined, but one that is now reality. I will be here as you bravely pick yourself up and keep going, with all these precious pieces tucked away in your hearts. When you wake up each morning still a member of this new club, I will be here.
All my love,