Unfair

Perusing the local paper while visiting the girls yesterday, we found out that the Deacon who performed their funeral last December passed away two weeks ago of heart failure.

Ohhhh it brought tears to my eyes. There was his low-res, jaggedy, pixilated image (could the paper have not taken better care of this??), he was smiling. Wannabe dad saw the picture first before reading the headline that showcased him. The Deacon moved to this area from big metro city three years ago. He leaves behind a wife, two sons, two daughters in law, three grandchildren (girls).

At the funeral his voice wavered, he looked nervous, his hands shook. I thought it was strange, then again how often does one do a funeral ceremony for two babies? He was clearly affected by our loss. He was kindly, late 50s, early 60s I guessed. He was so sad for us, and he read some poems that he brought with him. I'll never forget what he said, and it seemed horrifying for me not knowing anyone who had gone through this before: sometimes when this happens, the couple goes their separate ways. If you ever need to talk, please, please call me. You need each other now more than ever.

I couldn't even fathom being alone in my grief. Without wannabe dad. From that point I was conscious to not shut him out, and to let him know when I was feeling awful. We always check in with each others' feelings, and respect that any situation (read: when babies/pgs/conversations about them are in our midst) could potentially freak us out.

After the funeral we made a donation to the church, in a thank-you card to the Deacon for his services. This week we will send a card to the family, letting them know how he touched our lives and held us together, and how sorry we are for their loss. And because we know better, we'll leave out those words of comfort that are anything but.