Home » Family » No Longer Needed – Friday Fictioneers

No Longer Needed – Friday Fictioneers

I really wasn’t going to touch this one.  And then I couldn’t help but go back 23 years.  This week’s photo is supplied by Roger Bultot.  Thanks, always to Rochelle for hosting this weekly gathering.  If you want to play along, just click on the frog below and add your link to your 100 words.

©Roger Bultot

High Chair — Nee & Wee

No Longer Needed

Why did you throw out the highchair?

I didn’t throw it out, I left it on the curb for anyone to pick it up.  It’s not like we need it anymore.

What if we have another baby?

What if we don’t?  What if he was our one and only?  I can’t walk past that thing just like I can’t leave his room the way it is.  I’m turning it into a reading room.

I get it and I’ll help you.  …  Do you think one day we can try for a family again?

Yes.  When my heart doesn’t hurt so much.

 

Austin’s Room

 

 

 

163 thoughts on “No Longer Needed – Friday Fictioneers

  1. It sounds rather like one grieving parent is ready to move on, and the other one isn’t. I read an interesting phrase the other day, something about couple’s never knowing how much of a buffer zone there is in their relationship until tragedy strikes. Sadly, it often seems not that much. Lovely story, Dale.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It really is the case. I think it must be rare for both to be able to move forward at the same time (and why 75 to 95% of couples split up after the loss of a child)
      Thank you, Sandra.

      Like

  2. A sad slice of life that some people & couples can’t move forward on. It’s a great testimony of faith and endurance to those that can. When you think the world has ended, life can give so many more beautiful experiences. You are a strong lady and I’m glad you are a survivor. And a darn good writer. Well done.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It’s a tough challenge to go through. We were far from the first and not even close to the last. I think that’s what I use in situations. When you look outside your little world you find comfort in that.
      I look forward to life with all its challenges!
      Thank you for your lovely comment, Jan.

      Like

  3. My phone would not let me comment yesterday night, so I’m writing now from my computer – I am glad you wrote, even as I wasn’t sure you would … and it is so very valuable that you had. Broken hearts heal and break along the same achy seams, don’t they? It never goes away, but perhaps it becomes more tolerable. For it must. Much love …

    Liked by 1 person

    • Phones and WP are not always friendly, are they? I’m glad you’re glad I did. I worry that I go to this subject too often, truth be told. I don’t want to come off as one of those who is stuck – which you know I’m not. Yes, hearts can take such a beating. I’m impressed at how much, sometimes. It definitely becomes more tolerable.
      Much love right back.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I don’t find you to be stuck. I find you to be speaking the truth of how loss REMAINS part of life. Not necessarily what dictates life, but it is a part of you, of your history, of the associations you might have. It is so important that it is OK to talk about these realities, and I think you are doing a service to others by keeping it real. Perhaps it gives permission for others to speak of their losses … For there is, sometimes, in our society, a sense that it is somehow ‘over’ at some point. It never is. Even when it is a healthy kind of grief – the one that tells a story and is part of the fabric of your history. Not to be hidden or kept secret or minimized, and not to be made the all of it when it no longer is, but sometimes has something to say.
        Make sense?
        Xoxo

        Liked by 1 person

        • Oh, I know I am not stuck and I’m glad you don’t think I am either. Loss does remain a part of you. And I am also glad you feel as I do that it is important to talk about these and bonus if I help someone out there.
          No, it is never over – you don’t get over it (I loathe that expression), I read something recently that said you absorb it and it becomes part of you. So very true. Society can’t handle loss and grief – they don’t want to see it or acknowledge it or they have to look at their own.
          All makes sense, my friend.
          xoxo

          Like

          • I think the expression of “getting over it” is an odd one. What are you supposed to do? Not feel anything about it anymore? Not have it be part of your history? Forget it? Not talk about it anymore?
            I think that “getting over it” should mean – finding space between grief and joy, being able to have moments when you are not doubled over with sorrow, having most of your waking moments (and sleep, though that’s harder) no longer constantly pulled into that grief. I think it means knowing that you are able to breathe with less pain, and that you KNOW you’ll be okay, and not just hope to be okay. Yes, we absorb it and move on and it becomes part of you. Of course you would have preferred Austin be healthy and grow up and all that, but the experience of having him … and of losing him … and of raising boys who knew about him … and of loving and grieving and growing beyond it and with it — it is all part of who you are. Your life cannot be your life without this loss, because it IS part of you. Not for good or bad. Just is.
            And I think that goes for other griefs and losses – the sum of our experiences make us into who we are. HOW we deal with it. WHO it makes us into in our interactions with people, in our perception of the world — that is something we have choice over.
            (Off the podium … 😉 )
            xoxo
            Na’ama

            Liked by 1 person

  4. I wasn’t going to click ‘Like’ button because I didn’t like the end. Seeing Austin’s crib brought tears. Such a sorrowful and heartbreaking story of an event that must be a whole in your heart. Blessings to him and his angel father who’s taking good care of him.
    Next time, warn us that we’ll need lots of tissues.
    Have a great weekend … Be Safe
    Isadora 😎

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Loved the short tale. I thought it to be a fiction before going through the comments section. It is heartbreaking to know it is based on a real incident and I felt really sorry. Beautiful and heartfelt take on the picture prompt! More power to you!

    Liked by 2 people

  6. She’ll know when it’s the right time, he just needs to give her that freedom. It’s good he’s helping with the reading room. A bittersweet slice of life, nicely written! I know it must have been difficult for you to write. The more we talk about our hurt, I think anyway, the more the sting is removed. Stay well, Dale!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. A powerful story with such painful subtext. I admire the way it builds and never quite gets there with the trauma of what has happened, so you have to try to fill in the blanks that can’t be filled. The form of the story perfectly matches the content that way. Very well told in a 100 words.

    Liked by 1 person

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