“From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”
Psalm 61:2

I find myself to be a Daddy with Hope almost out of necessity more than a decision. I was once asked how I could be so sure of this hope that I have. I told that person, “I almost feel like I don’t have a choice. I want to see my baby again.” This hope has promised me that.

The day we lost Sarah has been forever etched in my memory. We were at Kailan’s mom’s house that Sunday morning in December. In true Wing fashion, we had forgotten something for the baby at home, so I had to go back to get it after lunch. Kailan nursed baby Sarah and laid her down while I was away. I didn’t know this then, but that would be the last time I saw her glowing blue eyes.

I never imagined that whatever I grabbed would not be needed from that point on. That is such a strange memory to hold, but it’s the little things I remember most. I remember the sound of busyness throughout the household as Christmas treats were being prepared. I remember the buzz of energy as Kailan’s brothers were getting prepared for their band practice with their band mates.

I remember stealing the boys away to watch a video Kailan and I had seen the night before from SNL…and then I heard my wife from the bedroom cry out to my mother-in-law…That’s when things began to meld together. Time moved so slowly and so quickly in that instant. Kailan came running out of the bedroom, searching helplessly for something. I asked what was wrong. She responded, “just go to your daughter. Go to Sarah!”

There was a point in that seemingly slow run to the bedroom where I thought, “maybe she broke her arm, falling out of the bed. But then I’d hear her crying now.” As I came into the room, Kailan’s mom was already on the phone with 911 and doing CPR. I realized Kailan was searching for a phone just prior and didn’t realize that there was one in the room.

As those moments passed so quickly and yet so slowly, the house filled with chaos that followed us to the hospital. While we waited in a room next door, they were doing CPR on my baby. When they finally let us in the room, they told me that they’d done all they could. They asked my permission to stop trying. That was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make…

After painfully giving the nod to let them stop working, the room became quiet. It was time to say our goodbyes. I don’t remember much of that time, but I do remember I was holding Sarah a lot. She was passed around to those who wanted to hold her, but I would instantly take her back and hold her more. I realized that I didn’t want to say goodbye. Although she was gone, I felt like if I still held her, she would still be here.

This story seems so bleak if not for the days and months after. If not for a God who works through the chaos, there would be no hope. But there is a Creator who is always working. He is moving in each of our lives and gives us a peace that surpasses all understanding. This God is also cradling hearts that are hurting, holding up heads of the weak and despaired. He is sitting in the rooms of those in tears for the lives that have been torn from them.

I suppose, I am a Daddy with Hope because God has made me so. I suppose I decided to empty myself of myself and let Him fill me with His Spirit. I could never give advice on how to grieve, but I can say one thing on the subject. Sometimes, letting go and feeling whatever it is you need to feel when you need to feel it, is the beginning of seeking this hope and refuge that God has promised us.

“My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from Him.”
Psalm 62:1

Photo Credit: Theresa Stiner

© Josh Wing, 2014
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