Lost and found …

… Writing Through Pain | BREVITY's Nonfiction Blog.

The pale blue sock I found in one of my cleaning frenzies did not belong to my daughter. It belonged to the ghost of my son, whom I had lost in childbirth. I had known him for less than a handful of minutes, when the nurses finally obliged and allowed me to hold him. I had named him Luca—which means Bringer of Light in Italian—when he was still in the womb. He died on his way out. His death brought a darkness so complete you could have pointed out a star in a clear night sky and I wouldn’t have seen a single thing.