I was never the same after my little girl died. But neither were her brother or her father. We were all crippled in different ways. My husband was solemn in his reactions; perhaps that is what caused his cancer at the age of 58. I had full freedom to cry, whereas my husband and son suffered from “male pattern stoicism.”
No matter how you cut it, the death of a child has lifelong repercussions. My writing is fueled by grief and the relief found therein. But men are not disposed to break down and weep. And I often found myself alone with a full box of tissues.
One thing I could not do then was talk about my child’s death to friends. They might have listened, but I could not open up to them. My best friend, the parent of 3 healthy boys, invited me over for visits, but grief was not on the table. Only cheerfulness and talks about nothing.
Sadly, the relationship did not survive and I made no new friends. I turned within and to my Higher Power; there I found solace not available in the outer world.
I found solace in solitude; actually I am a solitary by nature. Now I am in the winter of my life and little Laurie died in the first bloom of summer. I still feel the bruises on my soul. But it is from these bruises that my writing flows.
Some of you also have bruises on your soul; if so, it may help to read about my attempts to learn all I could about awakening. It is fair to say that I put all of my time and attention on the world outside of this world. This world lies within and truth is found in no other place; this I know.
The Planet Earth is crashing and burning now, fueled by hatred and poisonous politics. All of the great teachers counseled us to turn within to know the truth; but we also have to turn within to see the falsehoods that we ourselves continue to embrace.
We can no longer afford to pollute our oceans or our bodies. There is a hole in the ozone layer and a deeper one in our sense of personal responsibility.
I can only write so much about personal loss; this is a time when the world is grieving the loss of its innocence. We have only ourselves to blame. Mea culpa, mea culpa—truer words were never spoken.
Vicki Woodyard
Be merciful, oh Lord, for we are troubled, sinful and in great need of mercy, peace and healing love. Help us to remember we are ever in your presence; and your presence is ever within us. Thank you, Vicki for your beautiful, soulful essay.
She was a child of light; you can see that in her photo. That was her first grade class photo made at school. She would die before second grade began.
She was a child of light; you can see that in her photo. That was her first grade class photo made at school. She would die before second grade began.