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I just heard some news about my college roommate. Horrible news. Last week, she and her family were involved in a car accident while en route from Colorado to Utah. Her oldest daughter was killed.
How does a person ever recover from the death of a child?
When my son Bode was nine months old, I dreamt he died.
As if the end result was not painful enough, within my dream, I had a dream about how it would all unfold. How he would get sick. How I would have to watch him slowly deteriorate. And I foresaw how and when that exact moment of his passing would occur.
And I painfully waited, heart broken, relishing every last moment with him.
I awoke at 3 a.m. in a flood of tears. My husband Jamie consoled me by suggesting we sneak into Bode’s room. I was touched at his thoughtfulness as we crept in there to hear the comforting cadence of his breathing.
“He’s OK,” I whispered, relieved, and reached down to remove his bottle that he had drunkenly thrown to the wayside.
And then he woke up. Forcefully. And very loudly objected as if to say, “What da freak? Just let me sleep, woman!”
And never before have a baby’s cries provided such peace.
How does a person ever recover from the death of a child? Read on …


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