Solutions June 2016 - Page 36

3 Things Christians Say, But Shouldn’t, In Times of Loss As my daughter Goldie’s heart beat for the last time on March 5, 2014, I felt her warm skin turn cold in my arms. Tears poured down my chin and onto her infant face, realizing I would never see her lips smile or feel her tiny hand reach up to touch my cheek—wailing at the truth that my daughter was gone, and there was nothing I could do to bring her back. By Christa Black Gifford Luca Gold ‘Goldie’ Gifford was born with a condition called anencephaly where the top of her skull and brain didn’t develop, making her incompatible with life for very long outside of my womb. We had no idea there was anything wrong, giving us the shock of our lives the day she was born. The summer months after Goldie’s death came and went, but my heart endured 36 SMG Solutions the harshest winter it had ever known—learning how to navigate the violent cold of grief that follows death. For months, our countertops stayed stocked with casseroles, pies, and flowers from friends and strangers, kindly reminding us that we weren’t alone or forgotten in our agony. Every gesture, big or small, felt like a faint glimmer of light in the middle of constant blackness. Meals and gifts were delivered with hugs and tears, and most were considerate of our heartache and graciously came and went quickly to avoid awkward moments of silence. We didn’t have much energy for pleasantries. We didn’t have much energy for anything but breathing. There were others, however, who were probably a bit like I was for many years, unaware of what