It was a terrible fire, one that consumed everything they had. . . including their three children. Growing up, I heard the story quite often since they were family, the grandchildren of my great aunt and uncle whose house was always a place to visit whenever we went to Florence.  That meant at least twice a year since my mother could only find clothes to fit my scrawny little brother at Rogers Department Store.  I didn’t mind so much.  If we behaved while we shopped, there was a trip to Woolworth’s and the soda fountain afterwards.  And we always stopped at Uncle Pat and Aunt Becky’s on the way home.  If the season was right the front yard under the huge oak tree was covered with watermelons, several of which usually found their way into the trunk of our car.

My cousin had been pregnant at the time and that child was also lost. Four children.  Four children ages five and younger, gone in what must have seemed like the blink of an eye.  Even though their parents went on to have four more children, I knew their first family was never far from their thoughts and always in their hearts.  After all, you do not simply replace children who have been taken by Death.

And that’s a point I hope we will all remember when we begin to speak with a mother or father who has suffered the tragic loss of a child. Oh, I know.  We understand that life will never be the same and that each child is precious in their own right, but when confronted with such loss we often tend to speak without thinking of the impact our words can have.  Please don’t offer as consolation the observation that they are still young enough to have other children.  It doesn’t matter.  They will never be the children they had.  Please don’t remind them that at least they still have others.  Again, it doesn’t matter.  There is still one that is missing and will be missing forever.  And please, do not tell them God just needed another angel.  Do you realize how selfish that would make Him?

We also need to remember that any loss is tragic when a life has been cut so terribly short. Whether a child dies in the womb or after a few years on this earth, whether they die as the result of an illness or an accident, their death is untimely and always defies comprehension.  There is no explanation of Death that can comfort a grieving parent, so kindly do not attempt to provide one. Instead, offer them a hug, a whispered “I’m sorry”, a shoulder where they can cry until it seems there should be no more tears left, knowing that the source is never-ending.  And I know we’ve said it before, but it definitely bears repeating.  Say their child’s name.  Always say their name.  Pretending Death has not snatched away a young soul does not make it so, but acknowledging that life—honoring that life—gives it meaning and purpose, no matter how brief it may have been.

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