Tuesday, August 29, 2006

A Moment of Reflection

I have a pounding headache. My SUV is filled with boxes that are destined for our new home. When we get the house keys, I will be lugging boxes, unpacking boxes, driving too many miles, and longing for some much-needed sleep. I feel grumpy, irritable and a bit out of sorts.


Exactly. So. Big Deal.

The newscasts yesterday told us all of an airplane crash where dozens were killed, including a young couple just married and on their way to a honeymoon. Others are dying every day in Afghanistan and Iraq. People are starving to death in Africa and elsewhere. Children are abused everywhere. There are many, many, very real problems in the world, and they are not going away.

I have read some blog posts recently here and here by a couple who lost their daughter under dreadful circumstances. They are struggling with the loss. That last sentence I wrote seems like such a silly statement to me. How can someone 'struggle' with a loss of such magnitude? How can anyone stay sane under such circumstances? How can they not collapse under the 'why's' that must pound away relentlessly inside their brains?

I don't know. My parents lost several children, three brothers of mine, all before I was born. I never knew my brothers, but their loss filled me with a fury that I couldn't begin to describe adequately. How did my parents cope with the loss?

My heart goes out to our new friends, now linked in my sidebar, and to everyone else, everywhere, who suffers in this way.


  1. Well, now I'm at a loss for words, so I asked my wonderful husband if he would chime in. Even online, I tend to get choked up when strangers show such kindness to us and our situation. So, I'll let him finish this comment.

    Thank you for your kind and thoughtful words and for linking to our blogs about Rachel. This has been so very, very difficult for all of us who loved Rachel. It's not really possible to describe the anguish one feels at the loss of a child, of course; it's a feeling (a confused welter of feelings, really) so indescribably painful that words -- except perhaps in the hands of a true poet -- cannot do it justice.

    Yet, as someone said, even a broken heart still bleeds. We go on. We have, after all, our lives to lead and we have another beautiful daughter to love and nurture as best we can. With help and support from friends and family -- and sometimes, as today, from those who are strangers but who nonetheless reach out to us -- we're making this long, painful journey. Thank you for your help along the way.

    Rod & Lesley Scher

  2. Wow.

    I'm speechless at your post, the links, their comments and the tragedy.

  3. Rod & Lesley: You're welcome. I wish we lived in a kinder, more civilized world. It would be nice to leave behind a world that is better than what we were born into. Sadly, that isn't going to happen anytime soon, judging by the daily headlines.

    I have relatives in Germany by the name of Scheer, a slightly different spelling from your own surname.

  4. As I grow older and am having to deal with the loss of family and friends more often, it occurs that the most important thing in these circumstances is to persevere, to persist; to make up one's mind that no matter what happens, life is still a beautiful thing, and still worth living to the fullest.
    The most recent wrote me as he approached the end, a sort of sonnet he titled "Love me, but let me go." The gist of the message was "I am grateful for the love you showed me in life and the sorrow you feel at my passing, but I don't want to be so burdensome on your heart that you lose your own life and living in despair."
    It seems to this writer that, if the dead could speak, this is what they would say...Especially our loved ones.

  5. What a beautiful sentiment that was, expressed in that 'sonnet.' That must have been a very special person.