I Lost My Son; I Wanted My Grandmother

Sarah Jane and Ben, age 4

When we lose someone important to us, time and distance have their way of scabbing over the gaping wound of grief and making it less raw. Still, the emptiness and longing never go away. It becomes a memory of pain, an old injury that bothers us when it’s cold or damp, or we’re tired, but it no longer demands immediate attention.