Survivor's Guilt

I'm pretty sure that isn't the specific name for what I'm feeling, but it's something like that. I'll back up a little more than twenty-seven years, to the time leading up to the birth of my second son. (Today is his birthday.) I had a relatively easy pregnancy with him, and two friends were pregnant at the same time, so the three of us took a prenatal exercise class together. We were all due around the same time, and one friend had her son the same day as I had mine. The other woman had hers shortly after, but the first one and I felt a special bond because ours were born just hours apart.

Fast-forward to about six months ago. I hadn't heard from either of these women for many years; after I moved to Florida, I lost touch with a lot of friends. Earlier this year I got a friend request on Facebook from the woman whose son was born the same day as mine. She had moved to Amelia Island -- about an hour away from me -- and wanted to reconnect. I thought that was a great idea; we had been out of touch for so long, and now here we were, so close in proximity. Then I didn't hear from her for a few months, which was fine. I had my foot surgery and then became very busy with classes. Earlier this week, I got a note from her saying that she had to go to Atlantic Beach (five or so minutes from my house) sometime in the next few weeks, and asking if I'd like to meet up.

Of course, I said yes! So I replied to her email on Facebook, and she just happened to reply while I was online this morning. We made tentative plans for a week from Saturday. Then I typed, "Hey, you have a birthday boy today too, right?" I saw the "dots" come up that showed she was responding, but the response was not immediate. I had a bad feeling. When her reply came through she told me her son who was born on the same day as mine had been killed in an accident about a year and a half ago. She said she had only recently accepted it and begun trying to move forward. I was stunned. I expressed my sorrow for her and her family, and said that I was glad she had been able to begin healing. Then I added that I was sorry if my remarks sounded hollow, and that I honestly wished I knew something better to say. She was very gracious and said people often didn't know what to say when they found out, and that my remarks weren't hollow at all, that she knew they were sincere.

All day I've been saddened and haunted by her loss, by her son's barely having a chance to get started on life, and (here's where the guilt comes in) so grateful that I still have the presence of all of my children in my life. I don't know how to reconcile all these feelings, all the while knowing that the way I feel (obviously) is barely a shadow of how she must feel, especially when she talks to people with whom she's been out of touch for some time, and has to relate the information -- yet again -- that her son is dead. I don't think it's wrong to be grateful that all my children are alive; I just hate to see a friend have to struggle with such loss.