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A few weeks ago I wrote about making a prayer blanket for a friend whose baby was born prematurely. It was the first prayer blanket I ever made, and frankly, I had high hopes for its prayer power. I wrote a sweet note with the gift thinking that one day finding it tucked into her baby book, the child would read it as an adult.
Enough of my selfish plans. The victory was not mine to decide. I had no part in this.
Vivian died. Her too tiny body fought valiantly for 6 weeks. Two days before her death, I had given her dad my prayer blanket gift. This is not the way it was supposed to go.
I met Vivian today for the first time. She was wrapped tightly in the smallest casket I have ever seen. She looked like a china doll. Her mother hugged me long and hard. She said, “The last time I held her, I wrapped her in the blanket. It’s the only picture I have of me holding her. I didn’t have a chance to post the pictures before…” We hugged and cried some more. And I realized my connection was not just to the baby, my connection was to her mother.
I arrived late at school and Kat met me at the door. She stopped and said, “You are late today.” I responded that I had been by the funeral home. Kat knows loss. She lost her ten year old daughter last year to a battle with a brain tumor. She listened to my selfish lament over the prayer blanket.
“You do not realize how important the material things are. People tell me Kamryn is always with me, and I know this. But I still have to touch.” Kat touched an angel pin on her shoulder and a flower bracelet on her wrist. She explained that my blanket will be that comfort to the mother. We cried together, and I felt blessed. God works mysteriously. Sending Kat in my pathway today led me to a deeper understanding.
I wrote this poem the day after I heard of Vivian’s death. I was still angry, but even then I knew that there was more.
What else can we do
but pray to the moon
high in the morning sky?
I bow my head to her,
cry out
“What were you thinking?”Bombs went off in Syria.
A bomb exploded.
Vivian’s too tiny body
could not stand the blast.The variegated pink clouds
float like the blanket
I crocheted, hooking stitch by stitch
repeating her name,
asking for victory.You forgot to tell me
the victory would be yours.
The morning moon mocks
me with an illusion of a smile.The sun in the east
continues to rise
always rise,
even though
Vivian’s eyes are closed.
The sun will still rise.
–Margaret Simon
Lucy, the therapy dog, was at the funeral home comforting grievers.
Reflections on the Teche 
love! wonderful job Margaret. Linda Mitchell
Linda, Thanks for the word variegated.
What a beautiful story of love, sadness, and hope. Prays for Vivian’s mother and father, and all who loved her.
Unbearable loss….your last lines, about how the sun continues to rise, capture the profound sense of loss, that the life continues to go on,even though your world is shattered. My deepest sympathy to you and Vivian’s family.
“What else can we do…”. The poem is so heartfelt, Margaret, & this is always unbearable to hear of such a loss. My mother lost a baby, my baby brother so long ago, & we still remember him often although we only knew him for such a brief time. Your blanket will be a beautiful thing in years to come.
Margaret,
My thoughts and prayers will be with you, your friend Kat, the parents of Vivian, and of course, Vivian. No one ever said this world would be fair and it’s not.
I hope someone recommends the group, Compassionate Friends to her. It was not a good fit for me, but I know it really helps others.
You are such a beautiful person, Margaret. And your beauty starts from deep within and just beams out at the world. There is a reason I picked you to be my friend.
I love you and hope to see you soon. Peace and love, Jen
Beautiful poem and beautifully captured moment. The timing of loss is truly out of our control. Thank goodness for hope and my belief in forever families. Thanks for sharing, Margaret!
Oh, this is so heartbreaking. I can feel the loss of Vivian so very strongly. That prayer blanket will indeed be a treasure. You are such a wonderful friend to so many. I hope you can take comfort in that. My thoughts and prayers go out to Vivian’s family. I can’t imagine a casket so small.
Margaret, I love your poem and the way you show connection and compassion to your friend. I see this time and again in your blog posts and it has become something that I appreciate about you from afar. I am sorry for the loss your friend has had to endure. She has your blanket to cry her tears into. This post moved me. Thank you.
The blanket you wove with such happy hopes will serve as a great comfort Margaret.
Oh Margaret, there are no words. I, too, feel the grief through these words. I will pray for you and Vivian’s family. Thank you for being…well, for being you!
You are such a thoughtful person Margaret. The time and love you put into that little blanket will be treasured and cherished along with the little photo of Vivian in it.
How lovely that the blanket will continue to serve as a connection between you and that grieving mom. Sometimes the little things are all we can do.
Oh my gosh reading this brought me to tears… I just don’t understand why this happens…I hope your blanket does bring Vivian’s mommy some comfort. I just can’t imagine her pain…
Margaret, I remember you telling me about this prayer blanket you were creating. I can hear the sorrow in your post. I am truly sorry.