speaking of days that stick in your memory...

December 8, 1999, the day that we learned that Eric died in New Zealand. 12 years... and the memory is still just as vivid and as profound. For 364 days each year we choose not to focus upon it, but on this day, regardless of where we are or what we are doing, it floods back.

We have taken on the priviledge of speaking with other parents who have suffered the loss of a child. Our work with Hospice has prepared us for this difficult role. Just this month, we have been emailed by two people, friends who have friends who are in the fire, one in Kansas, one in Georgia. Since the Oprah Show, there have been hundreds with questions like; What can we do? What do we say? We feel so helpless watching them suffer so profoundly.

So here is our very simple counsel; be present, pay attention, don't be afraid to speak the name of the loved one who died, be patient, take walks, hug, hold hands, nod your head when the parent rages or despairs, smile, come back the next day or the next week and do it again.

You can not fix it. Things will never be "normal" for these people again. But there will be healing. The huge holes in their hearts will never go away, but the grace is that our hearts grow to surround our loss.

Miss you, son. Love never dies.