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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.
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We’re having a snow day, a blustery stay-at-home day.
Oh, how I love being cocooned in my home with the many and varied projects patiently waiting my attention. This week is the perfect time to be sheltered and blanketed by the most welcome snowfall. It is the week that my Kitty Rose died, five years ago. From January 18 through January 25, mourning rotates back into grieving, a time I consciously relive the events that led to my granddaughter’s death.  Ten years ago tomorrow, my 9-month-old granddaughter, Kitty, was buried.
Ten years. On this anniversary, as I've reflected on her short life and on her tragic death, I have no words. What can I say? What message do I have to lift others, to provide a smidgen of hope? As I opened my blog page this morning, I found this draft, started some time ago, and it gave me the words I need today - for myself and to share with you. Recently, at a weekend church service, our deacon did the preaching. Once every four weeks, he is present at all of the weekend Masses to deliver the homily. It provides a well-deserved break for our popular - and therefore, extremely busy - pastor. I look forward to these weekends. The gospel message comes through our deacon in ways I seem to be able to grasp, cling to and actually remember! This weekend's sermon did not disappoint. Forgiveness was the theme. He spoke on the parable of Peter and Jesus interacting about forgiveness in Matthew 18:21-22: "Then Peter came to Jesus and said, 'Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times? 'Jesus said to him, 'I do not say to you "up to seven times" but up to seventy times seven.' " It was not so much the words, but rather this exercise that gave me pause. Our deacon asked us to think of a small object that we treasure dearly, close our eyes, imagine the object in our hand and grasp it in as tight a fist as possible ... hold it tight ... clutch it ... until he told us to slowly open our fingers. This part was easy. I was wearing my locket with Kitty inside, so I was fortunate to actually be holding my chosen object. While everyone sat in the pews with fists closed tight, our deacon continued talking for a few minutes before asking us to slowly open our fingers. How did it feel? Numb? Painful? Achy? Was your hand discolored? Could you open it immediately? He likened the physical feelings of our hands to the inner pain of not being able to forgive. I compared it to how I felt after Kitty died ... numb, in pain, not being to open up, emotionally bruised. I ached. I hurt. Fortunately, I never struggled to forgive. By the grace of God, being able to forgive was never an issue at the time of Kitty's death. Yes, I was devastated and still am to this day. On occasion, I feel sadness or am emotional for no apparent reason. But, I have been able to forgive - from day one. I imagine walking in my son-in-law's shoes and cannot fathom his numbness, pain, aching, the discoloration of his heart. To this day, he has not completely opened up. This homily delivered several years ago, and the blog I discovered today in my drafts offer the most meaningful message I can share on the 10th anniversary of Kitty's death. To move forward on your grief path, to find your way towards hope and healing, you must first and foremost forgive. When we are able to forgive someone else who may be responsible for our grandchild's - or another loved one's - death, when we are able to forgive ourselves for anything we may be struggling with, when we can forgive God for allowing our loss to happen, then we are helping ourselves. It is then that we can begin to heal and to find hope. Forgiveness has been my strength for the last ten years - I pray it sustain me for ten more! There is nothing more important in my life than spending time with my grandchildren and thanking God for the time he gives me with them. It's the #1 realization I've had since Kitty died and the most true to my heart.
Over the past couple of weeks, however, had I been asked what was most important to me, that may not have been my answer. he phone rang at 3:30 this afternoon. It was my other son-in-law letting me know that my 4-day-old granddaughter was in the ER. He and my daughter took her to the pediatrician this morning and were promptly sent to Children's Hospital in St. Paul. Baby isn't eating, is severely dehydrated, lost too much weight and is jaundiced.
The second call came just an hour later to tell me that our little LE was being admitted. In my last post, I briefly wrote about my friend whose daughter is fighting a losing battle with cancer. Despite her busyness in preparing for the unavoidable, she found time to call me last week and our conversation brought back some memories and feelings that nudge me to write about them. It's another one of those days.
Tuesday, February 14th ... Valentine's Day is here. It's not a big, spend-a-lot-of-money-on-your-sweetheart kind of day for us, but rather a day my family exchanges small tokens of our love and appreciation for one another. Even though I won't see any of my grandchildren today, I've been planning their little gifts for weeks.
And, thank goodness there has been something 'happy' to keep me going.  My family and I are safely back on dry land. No one plunged overboard, the ship didn't sink, motion sickness was minimal for the group and we were all able to enjoy our adventure. There were even chuckles at the Dasher doing her best Kate Winslet imitation when one of the ship's captains led us to a secret spot at the very front of the boat.
The purpose of our vacation was to escape a week of stressful reminders of the details of Kitty's death. On the past three anniversaries, we received cards and phone calls and saw news stories about the dangers of driving on ice-covered lakes that mentioned - and even flashed pictures - of our little Kitty Rose. This year, Mandy and son-in-law wanted to remember their child privately, away from the snow, ice, telephone, social media and TV. I am about to embark on a journey and haven't yet decided whether I'm brave, crazy, adventurous, accommodating or just plain stupid. Most likely it's a combination of all the aforementioned. I am going on a cruise ... on the fourth anniversary week of Kitty's drowning.
 's New Year's Eve. If you are reading this any time today or on January 1st, I'm guessing that 2016 was not a good year for you and your family. My sympathies to those of you who lost a grandchild - or any loved one - and to those who experienced multiple losses over the last 12 months. Most likely, you are saying 'good riddance' to the past year and are looking forward to better days, a more healing and comforting 2017.
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