We Can Cry With Hope, We Believe With Hope…

I’ve learned something new about myself, which is the best that can be hoped for when one finds themself amid great tragedy.

I found out a couple of days ago that Dill’s aunt Emily lost her baby. It was almost to term… just a couple of days away. I was disappointed and sad when my mom told me that, and then I was disgusted with myself that I couldn’t muster up any emotions deeper than that for the delicate life that had ended before it even began. It worried me that my selfishness ran deeper than I previously thought it had. I thought maybe I wasn’t capable of true empathy.

Today, I went with my parents to babysit Paige while the family had the ceremony for the baby. I thought I might feel some emotion when I first got to the house, but nothing came. Paige was cheerful and oblivious, and adeptly distracted me from the situation. It actually wasn’t until she dragged me up to her room to find some blankets that I got the first pang of sympathy, because there were newborn clothes there… it’s unbearable, really. I can’t imagine that kind of loss. I held it together, though, for the whole rest of the evening.

I lost it when Lorne and Anne came home. I could hardly look at them without getting that awful choked feeling. Hearing them describe the ceremony was just… moving in its beauty and tragedy. They said that he… looked like his dad. That’s what got me the most. I cried the whole way home.

And I can’t get it out of my mind. Just thinking about my own brother, it makes me sick with regret that Paige might miss out on that kind of relationship completely. Life’s not fair at all.

I’ve learned that I can’t comprehend loss until I’ve experienced, or seen, some part of it. Just hearing about it wasn’t enough. I needed to be there before I really understood. It’s very eye-opening to realize just how naive I am.