Today a friend of mine said good bye to her daughter and watched as she grew angel wings and flew away.

Madeline Alice Spohr died. She was 17 months old.

Old wounds are ripped wide open and my heart is shredded with the agony I know Heather and Mike are feeling.

There are no adequate words, no gestures, no anything that can erase or even dent the breathtaking pain my friends feel.

I know because that pain lies buried inside me, barely beneath my surface, just waiting for a single second in time when the reins I hold tightly in my hands slip a little and my grief jumps to reclaim it’s visible place on my soul.

I wish on every star in the universe that Heather and Mike did not know this loss. I wish with every cell in my body that I didn’t have to welcome my friends into this parenting club where the only requirement for membership is having drown in an ocean of grief after losing a child.

I wish, I wish with a million spilled tears that Maddie was alive and my Shale was sleeping safely in his bed down the hall.

I wish that Heather and Mike would never have to live the rest of their lives wishing for one more moment, one more snuggle, one more kiss.

I wish they never knew the feeling of walking out of a hospital empty handed and heavy hearted.

I wish, with every beat of my heart, that upon hearing of Maddie’s death I wasn’t instantly transported back to that moment of time when I stood before my own son and begged, BEGGED him to breathe.

I wish I was stronger but I’m not.

I wish I never knew the horror of losing a child and understanding completely what it means when another parent loses their child. I wish I could only imagine instead of knowing.

I wish, I wish that Heather and Mike find the peace that has eluded me these last three years and can show me how to find it myself.

Sweet dreams little Maddie. I’m sending my Bug to greet you.

***For those who are inclined, the Spohrs are requesting that in lieu of flowers donations be made in Madeline’s honor to the March of Dimes.***