Tonight is a strange night. I am restless, and I feel vexed, and I don’t entirely know why. Perhaps it is because I am filing. I don’t like filing. It is a slow process, but despite the outwardly grumpy self – the inner me plods on regardless, determined to clear my desk of clutter before I retire for the evening.. and I am reminded of those late evenings so very long ago now, when I tidied up a different kind of mess long after the children had gone to bed.
Children seem to have that effect on one’s life. They arrive in a storm of pain, the house never seems to be straight, their clutter is enough to fill 10 skips, 20 times over and yet in an instance you may blink and they are with us no more.
The loss of a child, whether for a sibling, a parent, grandparent or family friend is a world of hurt that rips through the very fabric of a soul.
So, it perhaps poignant when I can across Georgina Blanchard’s memoirs:
Our son was born with dark, wet hair and a button nose. His eyes were closed, but the death certificate later said they were brown
Her story could be our story. A story of a loss, that could be our loss, but in the telling, in the sharing of the grief, the pain, the emptiness – it is in the telling – that there comes a healing.
“Still Life” is a beautiful story and a precious memory, and we cannot but help but grieve with Georgina and John for the loss of their little son, Charlie.
CAPT Amanda Barrow, STARFLEET International
Team Leader, Women’s Health Issues