she was afraid of death and me

Have a seat.

Yes, right here on this lovely bench

in the rose garden.

I will tell you a story

of a girl who was

afraid of death.

I was warned.  My doctor told me to stay home.  She said I was emotionally vulnerable and being out in public would be more than I could take.  I had finally birthed my dead baby 10 days after the bleeding started. Now it was three days later, and I had to get out of the house.  My husband and I took the kids to a friend's house for a couple of hours. The sun was shining and we thought we would take a walk together in my favorite park.  I grabbed my camera and figured it might be good therapy to take some photos while we were there.

When we got there, we immediately ran into a friend who had recently brought us a meal. We talked to her very briefly. She was very kind and asked how we were doing.  We turned around and right behind us another friend with her child and two of her friends and their two children. I was filled with dread. I did not want to be social, and I thought we wouldn't see people we knew at this park.  "HELLOooooo!!" the friend cried as we walked toward her. "It's so GREAT to see you two!" she said as he hugged us. "How ARE you???" she crooned.  I must have mumbled "fine." I don't remember. My mind was filled with conflicting thoughts. "Oh God! She must not know! How could she? She would never act this way if she did!" "But wait, she signed up to bring us a meal, so she must know." "Maybe she didn't know why she was bringing us a meal? Maybe she thinks she's just helping us out because I'm pregnant."  "Maybe she doesn't want to bring up the miscarriage because she has friends with her that we do not know?"

She continued on, smiling and introducing us to her friends and their kids, telling them how she knew us, etc.  I wanted to run away. I couldn't believe this was happening. Eventually, we parted ways, but not without her saying, "You guys have a GREAT day!!!" Yes, we will. Life is fantastic. We just buried our baby yesterday, but we will ENJOY our day. 

I was angry the rest of the walk, but really tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was a busy working mom. Maybe she only read the email very quickly when she agreed to bring us food. Surely, someone would not act like this on purpose. It was so hurtful that she would not even acknowledge that our baby had died and that we were mourning.

A few hours after we got home, she had emailed me asking for directions to our house so she could drop the food by the next day. In my reply, I was sure to say, "Thank you so much for bringing us the food. We are all exhausted from the miscarriage and are so grateful for the help.  We buried our baby yesterday."  No response to the miscarriage info.  Just something like "Great, we will see you then!"  I could not imagine opening my door to her smiling face the next day. I could not be ignored again. I wanted to scream to her, "My baby died! How can you smile and pretend like everything is okay??"

The next day was fairly pleasant, if I recall correctly. The weather was nice, and my son came home with an award from school, so my husband said we could build a fire in the backyard that night. My son was ecstatic, as he had been asking for several days in a row to build a fire and kept getting turned down.  We had two friends lined up to bring us food that day. One friend was very respectful and told me she'd be happy to leave the food outside for us.  I left an empty pot on the table out front and when I opened the door later, it was filled with a wonderful soup.  

This was also the night the happy friend would be bringing us a late supper.  I knew we would probably be in the backyard enjoying the fire by the time she came, and I didn't think I could deal with her again.  I left a note on the door, "Please leave the food on the table behind you. Thanks!"  I have not heard from her since.

I think she got the message. Some part of her must feel bad. I understand her fear, her desire for everything to always be okay, to make sure that everyone is happy. But that's not reality.  I also know her heart and soul went into making that meal. I could see how her hands had shaped it. And even though she could not speak to me with her words, her soul was communicating with me through that food, and it was saying, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

I am not mad at her. I was. But I know she doesn't understand. That she is afraid. And maybe afraid that talking to me will curse her. 

Someday, she may be sitting next to me on my bench of emptiness. And maybe I will offer her some comforting words and a cup of tea. Maybe I will share my story of loss with her. I fear her facade cannot last forever.  Sometimes, life is really hard and and there will be tears that need to fall. Fake smiles just won't cut it. Sometimes we are a bleeding wound, exposed for all the world to see.

Sorrow and hope swim in the same sea. We have to accept and welcome both.