This weekend the unthinkable happened. Our cousin and his girlfriend lost their beautiful baby boy. She was 8 months pregnant at the time. We have no answers right now for why. We’re waiting and mourning and so confused. I think we’re all wondering when this nightmare will end. J and I have made ourselves available to them and their families as much as we could these last few days and we’ll continue to do so as the days go on. J is so good at just hanging out and doing regular things with them. Me, on the other hand, I have to fight the urge to talk about this tragedy all the time. It’s how I deal with tremendous emotion. So instead, I bring food, I run errands, I bring Dessa around to lighten the mood (at their request, I thought it would be too painful but they seem happier when she is there), and then I bring more food. J is at their house right now. I came home to put Dessa to bed and it’s in these quite moments by myself that my heartaches. When I’m running around trying to be useful and helpful, I can push the sadness way back into the corners of my mind. By here, alone, I can’t ignore them. I weep over the best friend Dessa never had. I weep over the holidays that they won’t celebrate together. I weep over the milestones they’ll never celebrate as a family. I weep the due date that is yet to come. I weep the anniversary. I weep Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. The weeping is endless.
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