grief

‘I pick up a pink sock from under the couch. Suddenly I sink to my knees. I try to smell her on the sock, hold it to my heart and scream, ‘COME BACK TO ME! I LOVE YOU! PLEASE!’

“I find myself softly chanting ‘daughter, daughter, daughter.’ I lose count as I hold that sock and rock it. Minutes pass, I don’t know how many. I finally pick myself up off the floor and I put her sock in her bedroom. I shut the door, stand there for a moment, my hand still clutching the doorknob as tears stream down my face.”

‘She came running into the house screaming. ‘What? What is it?’ ‘Outside.’ She pointed to the open front door. ‘Daddy. The bird.’ I picked her up, and she buried her head into me sobbing.’

“‘Okay, let’s go look.’ She was hesitant, but tiptoed out to the porch. ‘What’s going on out here?,’ I asked, still confused. ‘There are babies! He killed the babies!’ The look on my face turned from confusion to horror. ‘What?’ I snapped my head towards my husband.”

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