Conflicted

I wonder if he felt conflicted.

I wonder, at what point did he know he was dying?
When did he think, “this is it…”? Did he fight it? Did he try to stay?

I know he tried at least once, very valiantly. He sat up one more time.

I wonder if an angel,
a handsome, gritty, masculine, rugged man whom Robb would trust,
came to him and said, “Hey, buddy. It’s okay. She’s okay. They’re okay. She’s stronger than you can believe. Everyone is taken care of. And it’s time.”

I wonder if he looked over his shoulder as he left,
If he watched me, kneeling over the shell of him.
I wonder if he had any second thoughts, if he tried to come back.
I wonder what he saw, what he knew, how long he was with me before he was present with The Lord.
I wonder.

I hope he had a moment to know that he was going.

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9 thoughts on “Conflicted

  1. I lost my baby after five months of pregnancy. I delivered her, held her, and she was gone. It’s been almost four months, and I’ve just been feeling crazy lately because everyone has moved on, but I still cry when I’m alone and I think about her all the time. I, too, wonder about so many things. Thank you for this post. It made me feel a little less alone.

    • Jackie, what a deep grief you are bearing. It’s true, it can feel like the rest of the world moves on while the sun has the audacity to continue to rise every day. May I be so bold as to suggest the MISSFoundation? (linked below) It was founded by a woman who experienced what you have lived through, and may be of some reassuance to you if and when you would like to look in to it. Blessings to you as you grieve the loss of your daughter.

      http://www.missfoundation.org/about

      Monica

      • Thank you for taking time to send me your message Monica, and I will visit the website.

    • Dear Jackie, My heart breaks for you. I am so terribly sorry your baby girl is gone. Of course you are still grieving her; this makes perfect sense to me. I am writing for you right now, and I’ll post for you soon. My fingers cannot be still, for the ache in my heart for you and all the other moms in the world who have lost children before they took a breath. Thank you for your courage to step out into the blogosphere. You are not alone. All my love, my friend.

      • Tricia, I read this morning’s post “Truly Horrible Things”, thank you from the bottom of my heart! I will read the book and find that website. I’ve learned so much from the love, life, and loss you’ve shared with us. Here I thought it was just a fluke that I came across your beautiful blog and have read it every day for the past two years. By the way, you are my “blogosphere”, just you. God uses your gift of writing in magnificent ways Tricia, and I’m convinced you were no fluke. You were an intentional gift to me, like I’m sure you are to so many others. Thank you for your words, thank you for replying to me, and thank you for considering me a friend, because you’ve been a dear one of mine for some time now. All my love as well- Jackie

  2. I had a near-death experience once, due to heart problems, and I did know very distinctly what was going on. It was very peaceful, beyond what I can describe. Thank you for your transparency on your blog, I love the perspective you bring to parenting, life, death, all of it!

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