This weekend is the Blues Festival. The town is throbbing with music, dance, gaiety and thousands of people. The vibe is mellow and happy. We have DH’s sister and her partner visiting, and are planning a day out wine tasting in the region, with maybe a small game of boules on the lawn after lunch. All should be well.
Except it is not well in my heart. BFF, at 17 weeks yesterday, lost her baby and laboured all day to give birth to her third child that will never breathe, smile, or call her Mama.
I am beyond devastated for her and her husband. I wish I could give them respite from that overwhelming initial relentless pounding of the tsunami of deep soul-wrenching grief. And give them back what they have lost. Why is it that some people get to swim in calm pools of tranquility, riding the odd wave, while others must endure endless harsh dumpings in the rough, savage ocean of life? I know not.
It ain’t why, why, why – it just is.
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