Metta to Jude

Loss is one of those things that really puts life into perspective.

A mom I know lost her little boy on Friday. She put him down for his afternoon nap, and he never woke up. He was only two and a half.

My mindful/buddhist background reminds me that nothing is permanent, and as morbid as it seems, witnessing death around me helps me to be more present and appreciative in my day to day life.

There is also a strange comfort in recognizing that some things are simply out of our control. I cannot protect my kids against everything. It’s horrifying and also freeing.

That’s what my brain tells me.

But the truth is, Jude’s death has rocked my world. I cannot sleep. I cannot stop thinking about him, his sweet little face. And his mama, Jill. And how easily this could be us. And I question how I could survive a tragedy so horrible. This really touches on all of my worst fears: that you can put your baby down to sleep, and have them never wake up again. There is no rhyme or reason, and no way to protect or predict. It’s terrifying.

It makes me acutely aware that I’m wholly and desperately attached to my children. How can you not be? How can you tell yourself to “let go,” when the letting go is about the life of your baby?

I believe that loved ones do not leave us, but their energy lives on in the words they spoke, the things they did, and the memories we hold… But when a sweet child is only 2, there’s so very little to take comfort in. No stories or songs, only love.

I can’t even go on. There are no words.

Metta to that dear, grieving family.

Metta to Jude.

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