From Marilyn Heavilin . . .

I could still be asking that question after twenty-one, thirty-eight, and forty years. I don't think there is an answer on this earth that will ever explain why children die. Most of us can hopefully see some positive outcomes after the death of our child, but no outcome can replace the joy of raising our children. There is no answer to why.

However, I have learned that we begin to heal when "Why did this happen to me?" turns to "What should I do with this?" I determined I would make my experience count; it could not be wasted. Each of us can determine our experiences will not be wasted and our child will not be forgotten. We can also determine we will never be the same, and we can decide if the change in us will be positive or negative. As I have concentrated on the "what" of grief, the "why" has gradually faded.

Much love,
Marilyn Heavilin

From Sherokee Ilse . . .

Why? The question we all face on a daily basis. And one that looms large when a serious tragedy strikes. Why does it rain on the day of the picnic? Why didn't I look more carefully before driving into the intersection? Why did I say that hurtful thing? Why can't I stop tragedy from happening. Are our whys about control? Wanting some and having little? Naturally we want to have control in our lives and when we don't we wonder what we could have done differently. It is human nature and sometimes it doesn't help us one bit. While other times it is a legitimate way to vent our feelings, expressing our inner pain.

Really, will we ever get an answer? Do we expect one? Or is that why a cry of anguish, pain and frustration? So maybe the only answer to work toward is--will I make/find a positive out of this dark sadness? Can I let go eventually of the "cry of why" and move nearer to finding a purpose or a gift to share with others to honor our baby's short but significant life?

Attitude is about all we can really control. What will yours be? Can you refocus your feelings toward accepting your need to want control but allowing yourself to wallow in the mire... then eventually stand up, or kneel, seeking some gift or new view of life because of loving and missing your special baby.

The choice is yours.

Love and hugs,
Sherokee Ilse