You don’t know how I feel; please don’t tell me that you do. There’s just one way to know–have you lost a child too? “You’ll have another child” – must I hear this every day? Can I get another mother, too, if mine should pass away? Don’t say it was “God’s will” – that’s not the God I know. Would God, on purpose, break my heart, then watch as my tears flow? You have an angel in heaven – a precious child above. But tell me, to whom here on earth shall I give this love? “Aren’t you better yet?” Is that what I heard you say? No! A part of my heart aches and I’ll always feel some pain. You think that silence is kind, but it hurts me even more. I want to talk about my child who has gone through Heaven’s door. Don’t say these things to me, although you do mean well. They do not take my pain away; I must go through this hell. I will get better, slow but sure – and it helps to have you near. But a simple “I’m sorry you lost your child” is all I need to hear.