day 7 tiny shoes

My niece recently lost her son.  He was born way too soon.  He lived only a few hours and passed to heaven from his mama's arms.  She grieves deeply for him.  She grieves in a way only a mother who has lost a baby can understand.  Fathers grieve, and grandparents grieve, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins all grieve.  Friends and other family members grieve with a mother- but a mother's grief is a hole that can never be filled.  It is literally an emptiness inside of her.  It is empty in her womb and empty in her breasts.  Her arms are empty, but her heart is so full to bursting.  It is full of indescribable sorrow that makes her forget to breathe, it is full of anger, and questions and it is so full of love for the tiny person she carried inside her body.   She loved him because he was.  She loved every moment of him.

Then he was gone.  He shouldn't be gone.

He shouldn't be gone.

Today I was at the thrift store.  I saw a tiny pair of baby boy shoes.  They looked new, but they were stiff with age. I wanted to buy them, but I put them back on the shelf.

They broke my heart.

I had a son who never wore shoes.

My grief lives in me.  It's not always raw- as it was at first.  It can still take me down.

He shouldn't be gone.

Michael Eugene Burnham 2.8.16