Photo by Amy Humphries on Unsplash

The intensity of grief does change over time

Two and a half years after her funeral, my family attended a service for our granddaughter at the Children’s Memorial Garden.

This garden was put in place by the Bereaved Families of Ontario, Peterborough region. Located in Millennium Park along the Otonabee River, the garden hosts a variety of plants that attract butterflies.

There is a large boulder with a brass marker that reads:

Our Children Remembered

Bronze plaques are mounted along the path with the names of children who have passed away.

This particular service was dedicated to the children whose names were engraved on the latest plaque.

I especially appreciated this service as I don’t recall many details of Talia’s funeral. I know my brother spoke and our pastor spoke. But the pain was too raw to remember what was said.

At the funeral, I concentrated on not breaking down in wails. I bit my tongue to hold back the torrent of tears. My focus was on getting through the service without a complete meltdown.

At this service, I listened to the words in the songs. I paid attention to the pastor’s prayer. I concentrated on the parents’ speeches.

I stood beside my daughter and held my husband’s hand and remembered my little grandbaby as her name was read aloud.

Her name is memorialized in this place. Future generations will be able to stroll through this beautiful garden and read her name.

They say that time heals all wounds. Although I still mourn the loss of my little granddaughter, I appreciated the opportunity to celebrate her life at a time when my grief was not so raw and overwhelming.

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