Living with Grief

Humanist Thought of the Week: 9 23 2008

Living with Grief

I don’t know what color my daughter’s eyes were.

I never saw them.  She was stillborn at 36 weeks into the pregnancy.

That was 5 years ago.

I cried a lot when she died.  And as time went on, I cried a little less.

Now, as the mother of a handsome 3-year-old boy, I barely have time to think about my daughter.

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t.

I think of her every time someone asks me if my son is my only child.

I think of her every time someone asks me if we are planning to have another.

And sometimes I think of her just because.

Like today, when I was thinking of how beautiful my son’s eyes are and I realized I don’t know what color my daughter’s eyes were.


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