The air, thick with rain, sits heavily on my lungs.
You know the truth though, don't you little one?
It is not the air at all, nor the rain.
It is not the gray skies, nor the clouds that loom foreboding.
It is not the season, nor the date.
The holidays, nor their meaning.
It is this loss.
Whole. Heavy. Unyielding.
It is this loss that makes brief the happiest of moments.
It is this loss that brings tears among strangers in crowds.
It is this loss that makes the simplest of questions difficult to answer.
Do I have any children?
Did I have any children?
I wonder, is she still mine if she is now His?
It is this loss that hangs like a weighted cloak.
It is this loss that places depth in everything.
It is this loss that allows nothing to pass without being assigned symbolism.
It is this loss, and I can't fight it.
There is no solution.
It is bigger than I am.
It is this loss, and it is winning.
Sad news to report. The little boy, Noah Biorkman, who asked for Christmas cards, passed away this morning. Please join me in praying for strength for his family. It is a testament to the generosity of the human spirit, and should be noted, that this sweet warrior received over 1 million cards in the last few weeks.