THE MISSION

Welcome Mothers, Fathers, Grandmothers, Grandfathers, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Friends and anyone else who needs an ear...Please come with an open heart.

This is a place for anyone who has felt the loss of a child. Treat this as a communication haven regardless of how or when you felt your loss. My definition of loss: miscarriage at any stage, still birth regardless of week gestation, infant death at any month, and loss of a child even if your child was all grown up. For me they all hold the same root of devestation. None are more profound or more "easily" dealt with than another.

Please cry if you need to.
Please connect with others who are in your same space.
Please email me if you feel led to
Please comment so we know what you need
Please tell your story

Sunday, September 6, 2009

When The Warm Wind Blows...

When the warm wind blows...all the 5 years old go to the middle.
When the warm wind blows...all the kids having hot lunch go to the middle.
When the warm wind blows...go the middle if you like the color yellow.

We used to play this game with the Kindergarteners. They loved it, flowing from the outer rim to the inner circle and back. It was an exercise in listening.

Present Day:

When the Warm Wind Blowed...I followed it, through the rolling mountain hills to a little town called Eden, Vermont - where, it turns out:

  • there is no cell service
  • there is no wifi
  • there are no motels, or hotels, or campgrounds.

My original plan had been to sleep in my van, seats submerged. Jer talked me into taking the truck.

I showed up at Jeff's house unannounced thanks to a forsightful moment when I hit print on the mapquest directions to his address.

"Know of any good places to stay?" I asked, a smile playing on his bemused face. "How about my daughter's room?" he relplied, "She can sleep in with us for the night."

And so, I came to sleep in a very comfortable bed of a highly-articulate 2 1/2 year old surrounded by pictures and memories of her older brother, Simon. His life had been short. 99 days to be exact, before he flew without reason in his sleep. SIDS they call it. Tragedy on another family.

Yet, like so many other families struck down before, they rallied years later to reach out, to create awareness, which is why the warm wind blew me here to this sleepy little town.

Today I will set up Share Southern Vermont's booth and tell our story over and over. Today I will walk five miles, surrounded by others who have their own story.

My Story...

Nine Years ago today I awoke instinctivly knowing something was wrong. Orginally written for my book (another long story in itself) I plan to publish my day to day, mini countdown to Emma's birthday.

In fact, it would have been this post if the flighty attendant at the Sta.pl.es C.opy C.en.ter had remembered to give back my thumb drive after running 200 copies of our brochure and contact cards.

Ah - well, the wind sure it blowing this weekend. And, shockingly, I have finally learned to listen. A few stolen minutes on a friend's computer is enough. Reading blogs will have to wait - again. *sigh*

Home this evening - after I pick up my memory stick and the store credit I demanded...cause I'm like that!

3 comments:

MrsSpock said...

I hope for a fruitful day raising awareness...

Kristin said...

You have such an evocative writing style. I hope you are able to bring your message to many people.

Another Dreamer said...

Beautiful. I admire you- best wishes.

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