Do you remember the beautiful, strong web that sweet spider Charlotte weaved in the children’s classic Charlotte’s Web? The story is one of life and death and redemption and has charmed and touched both children and adults for years.
A certain passage has been on my mind lately. Sunday, August 26th, 2018, marked the three-year anniversary of our son Daniel’s death by suicide. How appropriate the timing! Because September 1 began the official month for suicide awareness and prevention. The day after Daniel’s funeral, my granddaughter, Daniel’s daughter, shared a passage with the family from the book she was currently reading to her daughter, Dan’s grandchild, only about 8 months old at the time of his death. You’ll notice that my granddaughter was quite progressive in her choice of reading material for her little girl of 8 months–the book was, you guessed it, Charlotte’s Web, by E.B. White. This is the passage she read that day, the passage she shared with family along with her comments:
This is going to be long but thought I should share with everyone. I’ve been reading Charlotte’s Web with Lorelai when we have time to read at night. It’s been a few days since we’ve had time for a chapter obviously but last night I sat down to read to her. Wouldn’t you know it was the chapter where Charlotte dies and I feel like the following quote was meant to be read by us after all of this:
“A little tired, perhaps. But I feel peaceful. Your success in the ring this morning was, to a small degree, my success. Your future is assured. You will live, secure and safe, Wilbur. Northing can harm you now. These autumn days will shorten and grow cold. The leaves will shake loose from the trees and fall. Christmas will come, and the snows of winter. You will live to enjoy the beauty of the frozen world, for you mean a great deal to Zuckerman and he will not harm you, ever. Winter will pass, the days will lengthen, the ice will melt in the pasture pond. The song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will wake, the warm wind will blow again. All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur–this lovely world, these precious days…” (from Charlotte’s Webb by E.B.White, 1952)
This little lady has been weaving the most glorious web on our front window. She produced an egg sack, and, as nature goes, she has died. Watching her work and give her life for her progeny caused me to remember Kaci’s words for us as we grieved her dad. I am forever grateful that she shared with us that day.
Many of you readers have lost children by other tragedies–accidents, sudden illnesses, prolonged illnesses. We mothers and fathers experience a grief that is one-of-a-kind when a child dies. It is not the natural order of things to lose a child, and the pain of that loss stays with us until we join them in God’s presence.
It’s important, I think, to remember that the life we live after they are gone from us is important. Days and months and years pass. We should strive to appreciate and even enjoy the miracle of life as long as it is ours to live. Yes, our hearts will be pierced by moments of grief so keen that we mentally cry out or long to sink to our knees in despair. We must know those moments, but live the rest of the days to the best of our ability, with thanksgiving that we knew that child for whatever time, with hope that we will meet again in heaven, with intent to do whatever we can to prevent any other useless death, with loving understanding for the grief of other parents who have lost a child or grandchild or anyone who has passed too soon from this life.
It was no accident that Kaci found and shared those words that day. I don’t believe in coincidences, just the hand of God reaching down to comfort us in our times of need. The hurt is still with me, but so are the memories of Daniel before he lost his way. I pray for each parent who has lost a child. May God’s peace and comfort strengthen you today.
2 thoughts on “Remembering. . .”
You and your Grandaughter share Gid given gifts especially the gift to write. I grew up in AWE of you and remain so i so many ways. You are so very compassionate to share your deepest pain in a way that can only inspire. Thank you for being courageous. May God Bless you and your family. Much Respect.
Thank you so much for sharing. You touched my heart.