Today Anna Whiston-Donaldson’s memoir Rare Bird appears in bookstores everywhere. Three years ago yesterday, her son Jack went out to play in the rain and never came home.
“One of ours has lost one of theirs. He was right here—just the other day—and now no more. Children die every day. We know this, and we keep walking our own paths, trying to keep sight of our own children and loved ones, busy with the foraging of our own day. Mothers, fathers, daughters and sons walk all around us, and every day people get separated from the pack—lost, perished. As my friend Stacey said, “It’s always somebody’s baby.”
We read newspaper accounts, we might take a moment for “By the grace of God,” push it across the kitchen counter, turn off the remote, change the radio station—shut it out **breathe** and carry on.
Then sometimes someone stops just in front of you on the trail (you had your head down, watching your own feet, your kids’ shoulders) and you stumble straight into her catastrophe. Them feels more like We, and before you know it you’ve opened your arms trying to hold something—do something. This mother in front of you has her arms outstretched reaching reaching and your arms are outstretched reaching and nothing can be done…One of us. A mom. A blog writer. A memory keeper.“
“In the midst of heartbreak, hope rises.”
— Anna Whiston-Donaldson
Every time a mother or father loses a child, I think again of grieving parents traversing this path no one wants to join, an infinite chain of overwhelming pain on one end, and survival and hope on the other. Today, with Rare Bird, I see Anna on that same path with outstretched arms. Only now, she no longer reaches desperately, stumbling into blackness. She trusts her feet will land firmly, she knows she is not alone. She still has one hand open for Jack, and with Rare Bird Anna offers us her other outstretched arm–reaching behind her, to those more recently aggrieved, and to all of us–an open palm of faith, fortitude, love and above all, hope.
Listen to Anna in her own words here:
Watch her LTYM: DC from 2012 here:
Click here for links to buy Rare Bird today. Sending love and strength to Anna, Tim, and their daughter–Jack’s younger sister Margaret, as their Rare Bird–their Jack–soars into even more hearts today.
Ann–I wanted to wait until I had watched Anna’s LTYM performance. I read your post this morning, and this evening, I got to listen to Anna’s story. First of all, thanks for sharing Anna’s book. It looks like a must-read book.
Anna–I cannot even imagine what your family has gone through. However, I am sure your story will help other parents who are grieving, and will make the rest of us hold our children a little tighter when we hug and hold them a little longer and kiss them with more frequency.
Thanks for having the courage to share…
I am amazed and humbled by the grace, strength and beauty Anna has found in her grief…and her generosity to share…
I finished reading Rare Bird yesterday.
To me, Anna’s honesty, insight, and continual love is nothing short of miraculous.
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