The following post has touched me deeply. When words fail me then these will suffice. My heart is always broken again and again after hearing about other parents who are in deep grief over the loss of a child. I am thankful for Victoria’s poignant telling of her daughter, Leah’s, illness that ultimately took her life. But I am most sad that it ever had to be told at all. Our faith in God is our hope.
We know that death has been defeated and our children suffer no more the pain and trials of a life cut short.
As most of you already know, Leah’s first blood test was on her fifteenth birthday – New Year’s Eve 2012. She died 16th January 2014. Her illness spanned one year and sixteen days.
In effect, this means that every month contains some kind of ‘anniversary’ – these ‘hidden anniversaries’ vary in terms of painful intensity. I try hard not to dwell constantly on the past or ‘wallow’ in negativity, but some dates and events are so traumatic that they are very deeply etched into my brain.
Sadly, today is one of those dates, one of the many days that I wish I could erase from my personal history because it continues to feel so very painful. Three years ago today I answered a ‘withheld call’ and grappled to process the very unwelcome information that the stranger at the other end spewed in my ear. While I was conversing with this…
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