Grieving over a son

I write this with fear and trepidation.
I have not faced the ultimate pain of losing a child.
But I feel such sorrow when it happens in our community.
I take it personally.

Last weekend a student from Apex High school was killed in a freak accident. Oh, what a great tragedy to lose a child. Oh, what sadness to lose a young person on the threshhold of adulthood. Oh, the emptiness of losing someone so dedicated to helping others.
Then again, oh, the emptiness of a child if they were struggling to find their place in the world.

This past week I sent a card to a precious friend who lost her son in Iraq almost 2 years ago. Her son's birthday was September 13th. She is suffering deeply, fighting to stay afloat as she navigates through this sorrow. She's attempting to come to grips with this wound, a wound that will never go away.
People remembering Brad is some comfort, and she emailed me that it was good to get a card.

I have another dear friend whose son commited suicide more than 10 years ago. Oh, the pain and agony in that is hard to describe:( She allowed me into some of her deep pit. I must say that was a gift to me. That I could be with her and cry with her. There may have been a little comfort there. In time, and with God's mercy, she has come to a place where she lives with heartbreaking sorrow but is not controlled by it. Her big fear? People forgetting Paul.

How do we comfort others?
We pray, we give a hug or hold a hand, and/or cry. We send a card or a note, or two or three. We say very little. We listen. We call or email on birthdates and anniversaries.
We remember.

I know I need to send a card to the family of the student that died.
Every word sent in comfort is a balm of tenderness in the darkest of times.