Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

I attended a ceremony at the Butterfly Garden for the unveiling of a bronze plaque engraved with my granddaughter’s name.

Hers was number 17 on a list of 20 deceased children.

I stood with my husband and parents alongside my daughter and granddaughter. My cousin, Dianne, arranged it. Her husband, daughter, two granddaughters, mother, and two sisters surrounded us.

The ceremony opened with a prayer followed by welcoming comments. A mother who had lost two sons sang. Each name was read aloud.

I looked around the crowd, and my heart broke. All ages. All nationalities. Men. Women.

Death does not discriminate.

But there is comfort in knowing that others understand our pain. They know all about the hot tears of grief. They’ve experienced the crushing sadness of loss.

And they’ve survived.

There is comfort in being surrounded by a loving family. A family who offers emotional support. Who validates our feelings and understands the grief journey.

There is comfort in knowing that Talia will not be forgotten. Her name will remain etched on the bronze plaque long after we are gone.

Visiting the garden will remind me that there can be comfort amidst the pain.

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