Drive That Far — A poem for lost ones

Introduction

A singular, life-altering phone call reached me one Saturday afternoon at age 14, fresh from a shower. A friend and fellow Boy Scout told me that our Scoutmaster, and longtime family friend, died in a car accident. I stood speechless, in shock, unable to process the news. This was my first experience with the death of a loved one. I knew loss—friends and family had moved away, even church members passed away. Yet, losing someone I loved and respected was new. They were, for the first time, somewhere I could not go. They were gone and I could not drive that far.

Because we live in a fallen world, this was the first death I had experienced, but not the last. When I was 23 years old, my new wife, now ex-wife, and I were trying to conceive. Unfortunately, this road was more difficult than either of us thought. Over nine months, my wife experienced three miscarriages, one of which happened when we went to the hospital because of alarming symptoms.

Unknown to either of us, miscarriages are common. The OBGYN delayed fertility testing until there were three. Regardless of how common miscarriages are, it did not help to soften the sting of a lost baby. Infertility is difficult not just for women, but for men too.

Wrap-up

I did not feel the pain of the miscarriages initially; partly because I wanted to be strong for my wife, but mostly because I did not have the emotional maturity. Years later, I processed the pain and grief for my babies I never got to meet. I’m unsure if babies from miscarriages, abortions, or stillbirths go to Heaven, but I trust in God’s goodness. In my heart, I long to meet them in God’s presence and hold them, so that is what I will pray for.