My stillstanding submission

I am a face of grief. On February 1, 2012, my 3^rd child was born an angel. Everything I knew became turned upside down and all around. Up become down and left became right. Slowly, but surely, this loss, this tragedy has become a new normal. Good or bad, it is what it is. I can't change the past anymore than anyone else can. I can learn. Learn how to adapt, what my new normal is. By overall, I did too. I also learned that while people didn't know what to say when my daughter was stillborn, that I now have become a face of comfort so to speak.

In the beginning of May, I saw a co-worker that I haven't seen in over a year. He had just heard about what happened with my family. Maybe feeling a kindred spirit or soul, he made a confession to me that he hadn't made to anyone except his parents. Him and his wife had a loss, though not the same as mine, but gut wrenching nonetheless. Just recently, during my work day, I dealt with another issue. As a delivery man, I see many people. I walked into one of my stores, I say hi to the manager. He looks at me and the tears start flowing. Minutes earlier, he had received a phone call from a good friend of his. Her 22 year old daughter had just passed within that half an hour. Both times, I paused. I was instantly taken back to the hospital. To the moment when the Dr had told us there was no heartbeat, that the baby was still. The pain seared through my heart again, and I felt that stabbing deep in my soul.

After mourning for over a year, I was cast into the unfamiliar role as a comforter. I realize while my loss has made me vulnerable, it has made me a picture of strength to others. Those who are facing the questions, the pain, and the loss that I felt. They look for solace, a familiar face who may share the pain and I fit that bill. It's a humbling experience for me. My mind searched for the right words in both instances. Both times, I said what I felt. I let the emotion show, the pain etched on my face. I told them both it's not easy. That there are no right words at a time like this. With my co-worker, I offered support. A shoulder to lean on, to cry if necessary. I told him I was sorry for his loss. That quite frankly, it sucks. For the other, I gave him advice. What to tell his friend's mother. I gave him the advice that I wish some of the people I dealt with, had followed.

The aftermath, both times, left me drained. Revisiting the pain made me lower my head in sadness. I felt like I was punched in the gut, trying to catch my breath. I sat down in the front seat of my vehicle. I was forced to let my tears out. I then did the only thing I know how. I steeled myself. I dried my eyes. It was time to keep going. That's all you can do, just keep going.