April 30, 2002 is when Gabriel Isaac was born still. This year, I have plans for this date, other than (or in addition to?) going to his grave. I feel like I should go to his grave. Things like this (tragic events) warp me - I still think it would be weird to live in another city - somewhere that I cannot go to his grave; as if I am closer to him because I live near his grave. How warped is that?? How do you get over being so warped?One letter I vividly remember opening was from a man we do not really know (which made a large impression on me for some reason). He was the organist at our church. Of all the beautiful cards and much appreciated (more than any of them realize, I am sure) notes, this letter meant so much to me. In part, he wrote these words on Sabbath, May 11, 2002:
Dear Ed and Sarah,I thought of the absolute silence (I swear you could have heard a pin drop) and profound hopelessness when Gabriel came out still (not a sound from any of the 5 others present). . . . So the words, "God is our Silence when no songs are sung" struck me. Of course, at that time, I firmly doubted that I would ever find again 'the voice of praise'; that had been crushed from me.
Although I don't really know you, I have known who you are. . . and I wanted to write and tell you how sorry I was. . . about the loss of your son. . . .
One of the hymns I played during today's postlude was number 22, "God Is Our Song," and I wanted to share verse 4 with you: "God is our Silence when no songs are sung, When ecstasy or sorrow stills the tongue. Glorious the faith which silently obeys Until we find again the voice of praise, Until we find again the voice of praise."
Robbie W.
A few years ago I read a book called, "A Piece of My Heart" by Molly Fumia. I happened to find it in the library and later I bought the book. Her first son died days after birth. She went on to have six other children but this book is the story of her first son. In one paragraph she mentioned something of a paradox (in my mind) of her other children having the acknowledgement of their brother, who for each of them is "both younger and older than myself."
I should have liked to know this brother, both younger and older than myself. Whom did he resemble? My mother? - Elie Wiesel, The Oath
2 comments:
I wish you profound peace on his anniversary.
I do understand your pain, our Sophia entered the world November 18, 2005, into the most incredible silence I've ever been witness to. I still yhink back on that silence and realize how unbelievable it was.
I will be there with you in spirit and know that there are a few others out there who have experience just what you have.
The silence is a memory you'll have forever and one that few will ever understand the power of unless they've been there.
Dear Sarah,
I just happen to fall into your blog by looking for a certain crib (biella). I'm buying it for my daughter who will be born in November. Well, anyways I became curious and started reading your blogs and came across this one. It's very touching and I'm sorry that your son had such a short life. Also, I don't think it's wierd at all to want to stay close to him..I wish you all the best with you and your new daughter. May God bless you.
♥Jen
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