The Massive Dose of Humility I Didn't Want

But probably needed.

I’ve written before about the gifts that have come from tragedy.

I’ve seen the best in how people love, support and care for one another.

I’ve seen how deep loss can transform, for the better, the way people look at the world.

Now I’m experiencing the massive dose of humility that comes from losing a child.

And while it’s painful and confusing at times, it’s an important gift.

I was very, very worried about Chloe before she passed away.

I hoped my love, support, encouragement, cheerleading curiosity, presence and interest would be enough to lift her to a better place.

I thought I might have that power if I just loved her enough.

I didn’t.

And I never did.

All I could do was my best.

And she's dead.

I did my best. And my daughter is dead.

That can be a hard, hard thing to reckon with.

In some ways we’re immensely powerful and in others we’re utterly powerless.

It’s easy to confuse the two.

Sometimes being reminded that we’re powerless where we thought we were powerful can be good for the soul.

It can remind us where to focus our energy.

It can clarify what we need to let go or to just let be.

It can help us forgive ourselves.

That’s what I’m working on right now and I know I’ll get there.

Maybe you're doing the same thing.

Carrying around guilt, shame or regret for "failing" at something that was never in your control.

If you are, maybe consider putting the load down.

Even for just a minute.

The rest might make it a little easier to see that it was never yours to carry.

I love you Chloe. I did my best and I know you did too little buddy.