“At least he died as a baby. It’s more painful to lose them when they’re older.”
The burial had concluded moments earlier. We sat under a green canopy, rain dripping lazily off the sides and watched as funeral workers tidied up the area around my son’s fresh grave.
This was not something that I wanted to hear. Not today, not ever.
“At least he died as a baby…”
These words were offered to me by a much-loved family member, an individual who was clearly struggling with painful memories of their own. I knew this comment wasn’t meant to cause pain – in fact, it wasn’t really about me. This was simply the truth as they saw it. But it didn’t make the words sting any less; it didn’t make them any more appropriate for that moment. It may have been “more painful” to lose an older child but I still would have given anything for a little extra time with him.