A Little Girl Died Yesterday: Grief Renewed

A six-year old girl died yesterday.  She wasn't just a child I heard about on the news.  Her name is Jordyn and she was a student at the school where Mandy works.  Jordyn was not one of my daughter's students, yet Mandy knew who she was and can tell stories about the older sister and the brother who aspires to attend Harvard.  Yes, a school is a village, where families come together to learn, to grow close, and now, to grieve.

Mandy called before 2:30 yesterday afternoon.  Often she calls on her 45-minute drive home (no worries, she has hands-free calling in her vehicle).  It's the best time to talk without interruptions.  Knowing that her normal Friday ends at that time, I wondered why the call came early.  But, before I could ask she said, "She died."  It had been a difficult day to work through and she couldn't focus any longer.  It was time to go home.

The circumstances of the accident that claimed Jordyn's life hit too close for comfort.  Although the details were completely different, there are many so many similarities that Mandy is overwhelmed with memories that renew the intense grief she felt when Kitty died.  The father was driving his children to school: son-in-law was driving his family home.  The car hit a city bus and then spun into a second bus at an intersection: the car fell through the ice.  In both cases, everyone in the vehicles needed medical care, there were days between the accident and their daughters' deaths, the girls were the youngest child in the family and their stories are publicized, out in the open for the world to see and to judge.  We don't yet know what is ahead for this newly bereaved father.  We pray for him.

The purpose of this emotional call from my child was to ask what I remembered as being helpful to her when Kitty died.  As she quietly cried, she asked for ideas of what she could do for this newly bereaved family to help provide a tiny bit of relief from the pain of their loss.  She remembered the food lovingly prepared and delivered by friends and neighbors, the gift cards, the Masses said for Kitty, the prayers, cards, books, toys for Belle ... but none of those things is enough for her to provide - even though they brought so much love and comfort.  Mandy is hell-bent on helping Jordyn's family in the biggest, most needed way humanly possible.

We brainstormed some ideas, came up with names of a few contacts who may be able to help with a car for the family and food for the funeral luncheon.  By the time we finished talking, the crying stopped and Mandy felt better.  She has a purpose - something she can do to help - in an important, yet seemingly insignificant way.

Jordyn's death brought back memories of the tragic loss and death of our Kitty Rose.  Mandy said she remembers Kitty's smile, her laugh, the minutes, hours and days between the accident and Kitty's death and the days, weeks and months that followed.  The kind words spoken by family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances and strangers are not forgotten.  She gratefully recalls the generous gifts of money, time, assistance, food, crafts and toys, remembers feeling loved, cared for, supported and safe.  And, she cries ...  because she misses Kitty, because she feels a small amount of the pain Jordyn's family may be experiencing, because she realizes that she has a strong support system, because she wants to do more for the family of this precious little girl.  She cries because she can.  She cries and she remembers.

We all know that grief comes and goes.   As grandparents of deceased children, we have our own good days and bad days.  And when our child has a bad day, we experience a double whammy.  That happened yesterday.  Grief reared up, recycled and renewed itself in Mandy through the death of a six-year-old student and in me through Mandy. 

Yesterday was the first time in more than five years that a child's death has so closely mirrored that of our Kitty Rose, that our memories so vividly returned.  I wish that will never happen again, but sadly, it's very likely that it will.  And what can we do?  Pray, deliver a lunch or dinner, help with daily tasks, send a card or flowers, donate a gift in memory .... whatever is needed in the biggest, most needed way humanly possible.