How can you mend a broken heart?

I would take a needle and thread and sew it right up. If I could. The hurt is the deepest possible. The loss of a child. Not even born. The mother is a friend of Daughter. Mother-friend learned the news at her doctor appointment yesterday. Daughter told me last night.

Today I think of how to tell children sad news. I think of Daughter trying to explain the death to her own children. I remember having to explain baby death to my children. Unfathomable. But. I remember their confusion. Like, this is not natural. This is wrong. This is out of kilter. How can this be? And. This morning. I am having those same feelings. I want to protect Daughter. I want to physically hold her. This grown-child of mine, I want her back for a little while. To comfort and protect. Just like she will want to protect her children. Oh, that we could. 

In the past few years Mother-friend has buried her father and then her mother. And now. This. This child-loss. 

In my thoughts I keen and make savage noises. I holler the sadness out of my body. Until I am spent. 

I want to wrap my arms around Mother-friend. Let her scream and cry. And grieve the loss of her child. Hold her. Love her. 

Tell her to breathe. Just keep breathing.