This is an excerpt from Weave Our Destiny, by Ken Lefkowitz. This scene comes after the death of the second of two of his children, one stillborn, the other just one day old.

“I never even saw him,” she said. “I never touched him. Never held him. Never kissed him. My arms feel so heavy, they ache from emptiness. I don’t even know what my heart is feeling. I’m numb.”

She began to cry, gently at first and then more heavily. “I did get the chance to hold his hand. But I also watched him die. I kissed Matthew for both of us.”

Then, even though I wanted to remain strong for Sheila, I joined her in weeping for our son. We held each other’s hands as we let our emotions take charge. Soon, she stopped.

“We can’t do this. We need to be strong, and we need to accept what life throws at us and be brave about it. No not callous, not insensitive. Just strong, with our heads held high.”

Her eyes had grown bright, but they betrayed the deep feeling of pain underneath. I looked at her with great admiration and squeezed her hand. Kneeling at her bedside, I kissed Sheila’s face and lips. She felt cold.

My love for her had begun with initial attraction, but it was the strength and beauty of her character as well as her wonderful perspective on life that cemented it in place. And here she was displaying these again in the face of tragedy. She was the finest person I had ever known.