Could You Please Just Listen?
Could you please just listen?
My
baby has died. Please don't tell me you know how I feel .
You
don't. You can't. I hope you never do. Don't tell me that
she's
with God and I should be happy. How can I be happy
when every time
I go to her nursery all I see is an empty crib
and toys that will
never be played with? How can I be happy
when my arms ache to hold
her?
Please
don't tell me God needed another angel. It's hard for
me to
understand why God would take away this little one
who was so
loved. Maybe I will understand later. But for
right now...let God
find another angel. Please, please,
please don't tell me I'll
have other children. Maybe I will...
but my daughter was not a
puppy that ran away...
she can't be replaced.
Maybe
you could just listen when I remember out loud
all the things we
did together...the walks, the early
morning feedings, the first
time she rolled over.
Maybe you could just sit with me while
I
cry over all the things we'll never do together.
Please don't tell me it could be worse. How?
I
really don't want to hear about your grandfather's death.
It's
not the same. Don't think my pain will be eased by
comparison. Of
course I'm glad that she didn't suffer,
but I'd be a lot happier
if she hadn't died at all.
I
know it must be hard for you, but would you mind looking
at her
picture just one more time, we don't have many of her
and I'm just
a little bit afraid that I may forget what she
looked like. She
wasn't here that long you know.
Could you please just listen?
Don't
tell me I'll get over it. There is no "over it", only
through it. Maybe you could just be with me while
I take my
first steps through it. Please don't tell me I
should be glad she
was just a baby, or that at least I
didn't get to know her. I knew
her before I saw her.
She was a part of me. And now she's gone. I
haven't
just lost a four-month old baby. I lost a part of myself.
I
know you mean well, but please don't expect me to
tell you how to
help me. I'd tell you if I knew, but right
now I can hardly put
one foot in front of the other.
Maybe if you looked around, you
could find some
things to do, like taking my dog for a walk, or
doing
the dishes, or making some coffee.
PLEASE
DON'T TRY TO REMOVE MY PAIN
OR DISTRACT ME FROM IT. I HAVE TO
FEEL
THIS WAY FOR NOW.
By Debbie Gemmill