Last week a dear friend, since college, lost his only son.

Jeff was also a brother, uncle, husband and father to two beautiful daughters.

It is not the order of things, to bury a child.

I’m speaking from a sister’s point of view. I know how it feels to watch a parent bury their child.

There are no words to explain such grief.

The utterances that come, “Not our family!”

We are left with the pain of memories that haunt our sleep, words left unspoken.

We feel cheated because of his untimely death. There was so much for him to do.

We are left with a broken heart.

It is a pain deep in the innermost part of our self. We try to remember his voice, his smile, and for a while it is easy, because his absence is so new.

A wound unseen, that throbs when we try to sleep, and every morning when our eyes open. It is there to remind us of how blessed we are to have loved and been loved by him. He left his imprint on those he loved—he will always be present!

One day, you understand what he meant to you–gave to you.

The blessings you shared with each other, make you who you are.

Like the movie, “A wonderful Life.” Who would I be if he, or she had never been in my life?

And we learn that their gift to us was just being here, helping to shape our person through the fabric of family, and understand the connection with someone who shared our Mother’s womb, our Father’s DNA.

You notice the likeness your children share.

It will never make sense, but it will help you heal.

In memory of Jeff Fast.

Karen Ross Epp

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