You know that sinking feeling you get when someone gives you bad news?
The one where your blood literally runs cold?
It was the morning of January 18th 2015.
We had slept in. It was holiday’s after all.
I had turned over and reached for my phone.
There was message after message.
I felt sick.
“Please Rachael, as soon as you are up can you call me?”
I walked slowly outside. I couldn’t feel myself. I had gone numb.
Our son Jacob was in Melbourne at the beach with his girlfriend, could the news pertain to him? What had happened? I didn’t want to know. I just knew it was bad.
The phone held shakily to my ear, my stomach sick, my palms sweating.
“Where is Jemima, have you checked Jemima? One of the boys has had a terrible accident.”
“Is he ok?”
“No. I’m afraid not. He passed away around midnight last night”
It was her old boyfriend.
“The kids want to be with her. Can I bring them over?”
“If you could just give us a moment please”.
Walking up those stairs and telling her was one of the hardest things we had ever had to do. Holding her little, young body next to ours as she sat rocking back and forth in disbelief. Tears streaming down her cheeks.
It’s moments like these you look to the heavens and ask why?
Why would such a young and beautiful little girl have to endure such pain and heartbreak in her short little life?
At the very moment I had realised we had just hit the hurdle.