Loss

We know from experience that life can at times deliver harsh blows.

We have lived through some ourselves, though thankfully have been largely spared any sorrow that could follow us forever, and have thus far escaped the kind of hurt that fades with time but never really leaves you.

Still, on more than one occasion we have had to watch from a distance as others have been forced to overcome the difficulties of life and the realities of loss, twice in the past 10 days as a matter of fact.

It was with profound sadness that we read recently of the loss suffered in the family of the home-town professional hockey team. An assistant coach's daughter, all of 14 years old, succumbing to injuries imposed by her own hand, a young girl with an entire life ahead of her deciding that life, for her, was too much to take.

These stories always leave a mark in this corner. We know from experience of their devastating consequences.

In its aftermath, we have followed the story closely, reading every word, silently wishing the family some kind of solace in these dark and difficult days.

But save for a name we have only ever seen on scoresheets and Saturday night telecasts, we know them not a bit.

Though we pray for them and wish them at least some understanding of the circumstances that stole from them a daughter and a sister, we are mercifully spared the overwhelming grief that will follow that family forever.

Not so for another loss that came to our attention late last night.

For months, we have shared with friends the happy developments of a new addition to their family, due to arrive in four months time.

As recently as last week, all appeared to be proceeding as it should, with a Rememberence Day ultrasound announcing that theirs would be a baby boy addition to play little brother to a big sister.

For them, we were thrilled, until yesterday when heartbreak found us unexpectedly.

Within days of watching their child on screen, our friends learned that he would have to be delivered immediately.

At 20 weeks.

We know nothing of the details of his passing, nor of the consequences that forced such a premature arrival.

We know only that he had a name, and that our friends are overwhelmingly crushed to have lost their little boy.

We are too.

Our hearts ache for them. We sympathize.

We are privileged to not understand their grief, but no less shaken by their loss.

And while we wish we could somehow take away the pain, we know that life offers no such luxuries.

So we can offer only words, telling our friends that they are in our thoughts, in our prayers, and that the memory of their lost child will stay with us forever.