It was his laughter.
The degree to which we love someone or something is directly proportional to the degree of pain and grief we feel when that someone or something leaves us.
Death, has always been something I’ve struggled with. Ever since I was child, it’s been one of my greatest fears. Death is certain for every one of us, but the uncertainty of when our time, or the time of our loved ones is up, has always been something that’s been a root cause of immense anxiety for me. That’s why I wrote a children’s book about.
Yesterday, I met a 14 year old girl who left a deep imprint on my heart. She reminded me of the power of acknowledgement when holding space for someone who’s enveloped in deep sadness and grief.
I arrived at her school, ready to read my books to the elementary students and was led to the counsellor’s office. When I entered, I found this petite, teenage girl with the most beautiful cream coloured sweater.
“Hello, my name is Laura. I LOVE your sweater”, I said.
Her eyes, soft with sadness, looked up at me as the corners of her mouth turned slightly upwards in a smile. “Thank you.” she said.
I asked her what her name was as I looked over to the table where all three of my books sat for students in the counselling office. The counsellor reminded the girl that I was the author of the books she’d just read with her.
After some small chit chat, I offered her a signed copy of her choice of one of my books - my gift to her. Her eyes brightened, and again, a warm smile came across her face.
She first chose my book about navigating big emotions but then hesitated, looked up at me, and said, “Actually, can I have the one about grief?
She paused, took a deep breath, and then said, “My brother passed away three years ago and it would’ve been his birthday in a few days. I miss him so much.” My eyes met hers, and an overwhelm of emotion flooded my body. Choking back tears, and trying to keep my voice steady, I said, “I bet he was a wonderful brother. What was his name?”
She shared his name with me.
“What was one thing you loved most about your brother?” I asked her.
She replied, “It was his laughter. I really miss his laughter.”
It was my turn to take a deep breath, and again, I choked back tears. I opened the book “Lily’s Heavy Heart” to the page with my favourite phrase and read to her. “A heart can’t feel heavy if it hasn’t first felt warm love, and our loved ones forever, shine down from above.”
We talked a bit more about the divine signs we receive from our loved ones. I shared with her about my Oma Elly, the inspiration behind the lady bugs in the book. That experience, sitting heart to heart with a 14 year old girl having a really sad day, was a divine moment for me. It was the absolute reason why I wrote that book. To give youth and families a resource, a tool, a reason to gently, and bravely, navigate hard conversations about grief and death.
In the ocean of grief, we’re left to ride out the waves. Some waves, we can roll with. Others, sweep us away for a bit. There are days that we may feel like we’re drowning and others, we are able to float. I’m thankful, yesterday, I was there to ride out a wave with this young girl.