At my 6-year-old granddaughter’s funeral, I leaned over her casket to say a final goodbye. Then I heard a faint, desperate scrape from inside. “Daddy said if I woke up, I would ruin everything,” she whispered.Find Grief Counseling
My son Julian and his wife Victoria had told everyone Chloe died from a sudden respiratory illness. The house was filled with white lilies, candles, and flowers from people who believed they were mourning a child they had lost.
It was almost eleven at night inside Julian’s home outside Chicago. The living room had gone silent except for the soft hum of the house and the weight of the casket sitting in the middle of the room. Julian and Victoria had already gone upstairs. They said they were exhausted. They said they needed sleep before the funeral the next morning. They told me I should go home.
I stayed because I needed one final goodbye.
