Losing a Child/Losing Yourself

One of the worst losses any of us could face is the loss of a child. It doesn't matter if the child is 4 or 40, the loss can be devastating. My sister-in-law, Joyce and her husband, Larry, experienced this tragic loss when Joyce's daughter, Susan, passed away from breast cancer at the age of 38.

Susan was one of those special people who lit up a room when she walked in. She and her husband, Larry (we called him "young Larry" and Joyce's husband was always "big Larry") were Joyce and Larry's best friends. The whole family was heart broken when Susan was diagnosed with breast cancer but we trusted the doctors who performed the surgery and declared they'd "gotten it all".

Well, it turned out they hadn't gotten it all and Susan passed away leaving a 4 year old son and an 8 year old daughter. Her passing also took the heart and soul out of her mother. Joyce carried on by giving everything she had to the care of Susan's children but it seemed the joy had disappeared from her personality.

We used to have brother/sister dinner parties a few times a year in those days. My husband's brothers and sisters who lived nearby would take turns having these dinner parties which were always so much fun because most of us had a long history of friendship as well as being related.

The dinner that seemed to change our lives happened at my house. Joyce had come over early to help me prepare and we were both working away in my small kitchen. It's U-shaped with no room for a table but it's just off the diningroom. I had a big pot of speghetti sauce and a big pot of speghetti noodles simmering on the stove while Joyce busied herself making salad.

My plan was to drain the noodles and put them in the microwave to reheat just before serving dinner. I drained them and was heading for the microwave which was next to Joyce when I suddenly slipped on water which had dripped on the ceramic tile floor. Down I went and it seemed like slow motion as Joyce and I watched the noodles fall on the floor and slide gracefully toward her.

We were frozen in shock, me knowing there were no more noodles in the cupboard, and both of us hearing the front door opening at that moment and my guests arriving.

We started to laugh as we gathered up the noodles and rinsed them in the sink, hoping the arriving relatives wouldn't come into the kitchen. As we giggled and laughed ourselves silly, I started to see the old Joyce coming back. She'd been through hell and survived it. I knew the breakthrough had come about by our ability to laugh in comeraderie over this minor disaster. Whatever passed between us that day helped bring her back and I'll always be grateful for that moment.

The dinner went perfectly but the family were kept wondering why Joyce and I giggled every time we made eye contact. Some members of the family have been made aware what happened that day but we still haven't told the squeamish ones.

Hope they don't read my blog!