Loss Awareness Month Reflection

The cold October wind blew the drizzle right into my face as I got out my car. The fog coated my glasses as soon as I walked into the local United Methodist Church. I was invited to play the violin for the Still Missed memorial ceremony for women who had a miscarriage and to pay tribute to those lost. On the Remembrance Day, candles were lighted in loving memory of the babies lost. October Infant Loss Awareness Month provides support to those that are suffering and grieve in silence.

Families greeted each other with hugs and small talk while the children were running around playing tag; it did not seem like a memorial service at first. Then, the light atmosphere immediately dropped; a somber and nostalgic mood had saturated the crowd. The chapel became so silent that a penny dropped would have left an echo. The banner featuring the names of around fifty lost

In the voices of sorrow, people questioned, “What if.” “What if my son or daughter were still here?” I questioned myself: ‘What if that were me?’ With a heavy heart, I reflected my own life and empathized with the speakers and the families. Re-evaluating what really was important in life, I saw that the valuable bonds between family and friends - love, care, and support were priceless beyond any material wealth. The silent reflection became a turning point in my philosophy toward life and the amazing virtual bonds formed with the congregation forever changed my life.

After a silent meditation, it was my turn. I approached the stage to play Saint-Saens’ “The Swan” - a song of life, loss and hope. The congregation was silent and still; there was only an air of peace and tranquility, but I could feel genuine bonds of emotions and support. Without a single word, the audience and I had a mutual understanding over the shared support and grievance for those who were lost. Your pain is our pain, your hope is our hope. We reach out to one another with love, understanding, and