Aria and I went for a long walk tonight. We were walking by Bella’s bench when I told her I came here this morning and took a beautiful photo that I would show her later. “Can we go now, mommy?” Of course we can, sweetheart. I told her I saw a second rainbow this morning on my way to work. She said “me too,” referring to the double rainbow we spotted while waiting for the school bus this morning. She sat on Bella’s bench and I took a photo of her from behind. “Can you put Bella in the picture with me?” Of course I can, sweetheart.
Grief affects siblings, even when they never met their deceased brother or sister. Aria talks about Bella often. She knows she has a sister who is in heaven, and that she died before she was born. She knows that Bella lived here and that we have many memories of her. She knows we all love and miss Bella very much.
Aria used to tell me that she remembers Bella and that she misses her. She no longer has those memories but I often wonder if they were real memories, a form of visit from her sister, or something deeper. I have held Aria, more than once, while she sobbed telling me about how much she misses her sister.
We have no idea how child loss affects those too young to tell us, so we wait and watch to see how grief unfolds for them. We wait to guide them through a path no child should ever have to walk, the journey of how to be a sibling to a child that died.
Angie Carter 