The scabs have been picked. The wounds open. Two different tragedies in our community in one week. I heard about Emileigh, the high school cheerleader, and Leland, the sixth grade boy, both yesterday. I do not know either one of their families, nor does it matter. What I do know is what those family members are going through. And unless you had lost your own child you do not. You can come close with the loss of a parent or a sibling, but it is not the same.

After Dalton died, I only wanted to see or talk to two people: Ashlie Jack and Donna Hoefgen. Both were mothers to teenage girls that had lost their daughters to accidents. I appreciated the comfort many attempted to offer, but it was not like the support those two women gave me. They served as my mentors through the grief process, day after day, taking late night phone calls and texts without hesitation. They answered question after question I would ask about heaven and what they thought our kids were doing now. God had placed them in my life for a reason. After all, no one can minister to someone as well as a person who has been faced with the same circumstances.

I say this for a reason. If you are the friends or family members of Emileigh or Leland please heed some advice. They are going to need you. Don’t go away. But don’t think you need to say anything either. I have friends I have barely talked to since Dalton died and I think it’s because they don’t know how to act around me now. Do they act sad? Do they not act sad? Should they ever bring him up? Which, by the way, the answer to that question is an overwhelming yes. The worst error in judgment you can make is to never talk about the children we have lost. Rarely does anyone ever say his name to me anymore. That, unequivocally, is the hardest part. I don’t use his name. If you don’t bring him up I never get to talk about him. Does talking about him make me sad? Of course it does. But not talking about him makes me more sad.

One of the kindest things my friends Lori and Cheryl did for me in those immediate days following Dalton‘s accident were to be present. They didn’t say much, they just hung around my house. They came early and stayed late. They cleaned my house and helped with the other kids the best they could. I think about them now and they remind me of Job’s friends who, for the first seven days and nights, said nothing. They mourned with him and that was it. I had another friend, Traci, who would text me every single night for the first two years following the accident asking me the same question, “how are you?” Another friend, Shawn, would text me night after night saying “I love you. Praying for you friend.” Each one played a pivotal role in my healing and I hope they know I will never forget.

Family and friends of Emileigh and Leland, be strong and courageous. Exercise patience and give the parents some grace. Be especially kind to the siblings and grandparents too. Their loss is not minimized in any way. Just remember after the funerals are held and the celebration of life videos have played, the hurt runs deeper. They may not show it, but trust me on this. There comes a time when the out-of-town guests leave, the cards stop pouring in, and that little window of time starts to creep in to peoples minds of how long it should take the parents to “get over it.” Let me let you in on a secret. We don’t. I wanted a bold face answer from Ashlie and Donna about how long it took them to get over the pain of losing their daughters. I will never forget how similar their answers were. They both said it would never happen. Somehow they just learned to live with the grief and with time the pain becomes a little less. I hated those answers. I wanted a quick fix. A pill I could take. Or better yet, I wanted him back.

If you are reading this and you are that parent who has lost a child let me simply say I get you. I get how hard every damn thing is about it. I know what it’s like to pick out that lining in a casket your baby is going to lay in forever. I know how it felt to lay out the clothes to bury them in. I know how surreal it felt seeing their friends walk by them laying in a box. I know how it felt to look at yourself in the mirror the day you get ready for your child’s funeral and think you have aged 20 years when it has only been four days. And I remember thinking I will never ever be able to wait until I get to heaven to see his face again.

Yet here I am. Loyal friends, loving family members, and faith in God has brought me six years past that horrible date in November. My small group Bible study girls are now my rocks. Becky, Mindi, Michelle, Debbie, and Melanie I don’t tell you enough how much you mean to me. Thursday nights are my favorite night of the week because of you girls. You never make it awkward or weird to talk about Dalton.

Thank you for bringing him up. Thank you for letting me say his name.

Emileigh and Leland. Say their names.

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