Sunday, July 7, 2013

One Year

It has been one year. One whole year since Romeo Gerard passed away and entered into the arms of Jesus and His Blessed Mother. Oh my son, how I miss you. How I cherish you. Perhaps, having heaven's eyes, you can see how singularly I love you.

I'm not spending today mourning. Yesterday we had angel food cake to celebrate his day, and we went to Holy Mass to honor him. Today, I'm going to have lunch with a friend and spend some time alone.

To think what the last year has done to my soul. To think that one year ago today my faith was so shallow, and then broken. And the thing is, I would have told you then that my faith was strong.

In a way, it was unshakable. I questioned, I feared, I wallowed. Some nights I would cry so hard my husband had to physically get me out of bed and take me outside to get some air and calm down. One night he had to call my mother--he'd never seen me so upset in eight years of knowing me, and he was very worried. Most nights I would look up at our crucifix through my tears and just beg the Lord to help me. Yet, even through that pain, I did not curse Him, I did not turn from Him. And I thank the Holy Spirit for keeping me from such sin, from despair. What a grace He provided!

Still, my faith has grown ever stronger over this past year. And feeling this baby rolling and kicking reminds me of how vulnerable I've had to be, how trusting I've had to be, how much I've needed simply to rely on Our Lord. He has provided all the Grace I've needed. All of it.

My blog's subtitle says it all: "And I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation."

I still wish, as I wrote in The Story of Romeo Gerard, to be a source of love and hope to other women who have endured this grief. I pray for all of you who have felt this pain. I pray for all my readers, all you beautiful women whose lives are the Lord's, that His will shall reign in your hearts, and His blessings will be upon you "like the dew-fall."


  1. I was thinking of you earlier today, as I walked into Mass with Mary (and her boyfriend, maybe?), and your parents. I asked your mom how she was doing having you far away and I can tell she misses you so much!

    It is amazing how infertility and/or miscarriage stretches the soul. Before years of infertility, I thought my faith was strong. But we are purified by fire. We learn more and more how to trust and how to hope. It is hard, but it is beautiful.

  2. I"m glad you posted this so I know the date. What is it about knowing the date that is so comforting? Even someone else's heartbreak?

    Prayers for you today. I wish we didn't share this thing in common, but at the same time, I find comfort in knowing I'm not alone in my heartbreak and hurt and grieving.

  3. Praying for you, and asking your sweet boy to intercede for you.


Thank you for reading. What are your thoughts? (You will be redirected to a sign in page. Sign in, and the page will come back here)