When words fail

MARY REICHARD, HOST: Coming next on The World and Everything in It: What to say when a friend endures deep grief. Sometimes we may say nothing or do nothing out of fear or just not knowing what to do or what to say.

NICK EICHER, HOST: When the Telford family of Little Rock, Arkansas experienced a tragic loss, they learned how even the smallest gestures helped them cope.

WORLD associate correspondent Julie Spencer has the story.

JULIE SPENCER: Molly Telford and her four year-old daughter, Gracie are sitting at the kitchen counter. While Gracie colors, Molly points out the few reminders she has of her son, Jackson Darden Telford.

MOLLY: One of my friends gave me this that Christmas, It's a “J.”

GRACIE: Oh, lemme hold it!

MOLLY: Okay. People dont know what that is, but I do. Can I have it, just so we don't break it?

The “J” is for Jackson. A thoughtful gift Molly treats with great care.

Another treasure stands on a high shelf, a white plate decorated with two tiny footprints. Molly takes it down to show Gracie.

MOLLY: Isn’t it pretty, look at those little bitty baby feet.

GRACIE: Whoa, they’re so tiny.

MOLLY: They are so tiny. How many toes are there? See how perfect–

GRACIE: one, two, three, four,

MOLLY: five…

Molly and her husband, John, have three living children–Quincy, Zoe, and Gracie. And Jackson, whose life and death taught John and Molly about how simply showing up can mean a lot to someone who's grieving.

MOLLY: I remember when we walked into the church, I thought, “I don’t even know I know this many people or this many people cared about us or about Jackson’s life.” It meant a lot.

Molly was at a routine OB-GYN appointment during her 35th week of pregnancy when she was told that her baby's heart had stopped beating. The following day she and John went to the hospital for a C-section. They were able to hold Jackson for a short time then a nurse wheeled his bassinet from the room and the Telfords began the long process of grieving.

JOHN: How did it feel? I don’t really have any words to explain how it felt. Kind of a very strange emptiness and loss…

Eight years have passed since Jackson’s death. As John and Molly reflect on those years they speak of their grief in similar terms:

JOHN: I just remember now going through these weird waves that would wash over you…

MOLLY: It’s kind of like waves–sometimes you don't know if they’re going to tickle your feet or if they’re going to knock you down.

The first year after Jackson died, Molly dwelled obsessively on those quiet hours in the hospital holding her son's frail body.

MOLLY: What else did I have to hold on to? I had to live the few hours we had with him, that’s all I have–so if I didn’t live that, what would I live?

With the perspective of time, however, the waves of grief have subsided. What do the Telfords have left after losing Jackson?

MOLLY: I had hope and I had the knowledge of what we see here isn’t the only thing that’s going on.

The Apostle Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians that because Jesus died and rose again, those who believe in Him do not grieve as those who have no hope.

MOLLY: I just kept thinking about how our church family and other friends outside of church were literally the hands and feet of Christ during that time. It was people loving me but it was God’s people loving me.

Some of Molly’s most distinct memories are simple gestures. An acquaintance at church the first Sunday back after the funeral:

MOLLY: She just put her hand on my shoulder as we passed. She was just acknowledging, “I see you, I know this has got to be hard for you to be here.”

And the sweet thoughtfulness of a child seeking her out at a school function:

MOLLY: I mean, literally, six year old little boy came up to me and he said in his little raspy voice, “I'm sorry about your baby” and my heart just stopped.

For John, his personal experience with grief taught him that what really matters is just showing up, just saying something.

JOHN: The only non-helpful thing is to not say anything, and I didn’t really understand that until I went through this. It just means more to the other person than you realize.

Molly drives Gracie to the cemetery to show her Jackson’s grave. He is buried alongside other infants. Their small headstones dot the fading green grass.

The sun is shining on Gracie's blonde head as Molly bends down to show her Jackson’s grave.

MOLLY: Hey, Gracie, look–I want to show you something. This says Jackson Darden Telford. Is Telford, is that your last name?

GRACIE: Yeah.

MOLLY: Yeah. So, You had a brother, kinda like Quincy. That was an older brother and he died when he was a baby.

GRACIE: Why?

MOLLY: I don’t know why.

GRACIE: ’Cause he got in Heaven?

MOLLY: That's right, he went to Heaven. So this is where his little body is buried, but his heart is in Heaven.

God's grace and the kindness of others sustained the Telfords through their darkest days of grief and even now serve as reminders that, as Molly said, “what we see here isn't the only thing going on.”

MOLLY: Wanna head back home?

Reporting for WORLD, I'm Julie Spencer in Little Rock, Arkansas.

WORLD Radio transcripts are created on a rush deadline. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of WORLD Radio programming is the audio record.