How are you doing?
(Please don't say anything too much. I hurt for you and your pain and don't think I know what to do if you start crying.)
(I am sad, lonely, aching with longing to hold my son again. I feel completely shattered, like my heart has been ripped out of my body.)
(Thank god, I can handle that.)
We're thinking of you.
(We feel sad when we remember and take a moment to be appreciative of our blessings.)
(Oh, Gabriel, you were so beautiful and perfect. I miss you so much. I do not want to live the rest of my life without you in it.)
So. . . let us know if you need something. Anything we can do, please call.
(I would like to make some of the pain better, and there is nothing to do. But hey, I can bring you dinner or send you some flowers, I'll even do your laundry.)
Thank you, there's nothing. But if something comes up. . .
(It's appreciated, but all I want in life is for my son back with me. You cannot make that happen. So now I just want to be alone where I don't have to think about comforting you too.)
It's worse what is unsaid between my husband and I, the things that are spoken with the touches, the eyes, the tears. Pleas for each other to be ok, asking if you are thinking about him right now too. Trying hard to be brave and together for the other person, each of us wanting to break down.
I wish more people would look me in the eyes. I wish more people would say his name and acknowledge that Gabriel was born, lived and died and mattered in this world.