Making meaning

Losing a child is a horrible thing. It’s a gut-wrenching experience, the reversal of nature and the way that things are supposed to be. It’s a life-shattering experience I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

But when I share my experience with it, something amazing happens.

People emerge out of the woodwork - friends, neighbors, acquaintances, coworkers, strangers - who have lost a child, or known someone who has. They read the words and they share in the grief and the hope. And my heart heals a single millimeter more each time I get to say Isla’s name.

Writing these words helps me heal and make meaning. It helps move me from "why did this happen to me” to “how can I grow from this” to “how can I help someone else”. Ultimately, I am the author of the story I tell myself about Isla’s life. I intend to write until I get to hold her in the next life.