Empty Arms Bereavement

I am the ocean.

Recently, a friend sent me a link to this podcast. It took me a few days to follow the link and listen, but when I did, the rest of the world around me fell silent. It was a beautiful, compelling story of a family who was able to intentionally create true meaning in the short life of their son, Thomas, in a most unexpected way. I truly encourage you to listen to this podcast, which is about 20 minutes long, when you can carve out a few moments for thinking. I listened while I folded laundry and was sucked into this family’s story and the unusual places where they found their son’s life impacting others. 

Most profound for me were the words of the mother, Sarah, towards the end of the podcast. After exploring a number of medical laboratories where Thomas’s various organs had been donated, Sarah had this to say: 

(After the visits with these offices and providers) “I started feeling that these were Thomas’s colleagues and co-workers and he was a valuable partner in this important research that was being done. 

And I felt an even more fundamental shift- almost like, I had felt like I was a boat on an ocean that was like rocky, and choppy with waves. And I’ve had this feeling like, I’m not the boat, I’m the ocean. Like the decisions that I make are changing other people, as opposed to just, I’m a boat being slapped with waves all the time. It has made me feel powerful. “

What beauty I found in those words: in that thought, that perhaps, at some point, we can all find a point at which we feel less helpless, less controlled by our grief, and more like part of something bigger. Unpredictable, yes, and rocky at times, but also capable and strong. 

Thank you, Sarah. 

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