The Sun Will Come out Tomorrow: Beginning Again After the Death of a Child

By Wayne Triplett

When a child dies—even an adult child— bereaved parents are left with a “stomachache that never ends.” No parent expects to make their child’s funeral arrangements. The death of a child is a loss only those who have lived through it can fully comprehend. A grieving parent wonders if the sun will ever show its face again.

After Wayne Triplett lost his son, he set out to write the book he most needed—one that would offer solace, support, and inspiration. Telling his story and the stories of other bereaved parents—he discovered that grief never ends, but that if we open up to it, it can transform itself. We can with God’s help turn our heart-wrenching loss into something that will make a difference in the lives of others. One day we will pass through the storm of sorrow into new realms of sunlight and hope.

• Find the road back to joy
• Meet yourself in this book
• Learn to live in the “new normal”
• Affirm that life is still worth living
• Find answers to the hard questions about death
• Discover how God can truly heal a broken heart
• Encounter real grief and real people dealing with it
• Explore the journey through grief after the ultimate loss

To find hope, to find faith, to find the way we can turn our sadness into service
for others and into love in our own lives—these are the greatest challenges of loss.
They are also the greatest opportunities.

All proceeds from the sale of this book benefit the Kevin Wayne Triplett Memorial Scholarship Fund.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 7, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450251013

Wayne Triplett

Wayne Triplett is a retired lifelong educator. He wrote about the life of his son in his first book, This Little Light Of Mine. Following Kevin’s death, he wrote The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow, a faith-based guide for bereaved parents on their journey through grief. Wayne lives in Millers Creek, North Carolina.

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Copyright © 2010 Wayne Triplett.

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any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (KJV).

Copyright 1989 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.

or as noted from the

Life Application Study Bible, New International Version (NIV).

Copyright 1991 by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. and Zondervan Publishing House.

Front cover photo by Wayne Triplett

Front flap photo by First Choice Resources, Inc.

Back flap photo by Wayne Triplett

Author photo by Carolina Photography, Inc.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-4502-5099-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-5100-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-5101-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010912166

iUniverse rev. date:  10/06/2022

This book is dedicated to my precious mother—Ruby L. Triplett,

and in loving memory to my beloved son—Kevin.

His light still shines!

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In August of 1999, I had a life-changing experience with Christ. I have been through a lot of hard times in my life, but God has always been there to help me and hear my prayers. God is good. I know that if I were to die tonight, I would spend eternity in heaven.

–Kevin W. Triplett

Contents

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DEDICATION

IN MEMORIAM

OUR CHILDREN – WE REMEMBER THEM

FOREWORD

PREFACE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Chapter 1     A DEATH MOST PRECIOUS

Miscarried Baby of Craig and Kim B. Church by Kim B. Church

Kimela Dee Roten by Dorothy Roten Beach

Chapter 2     THE NATURE OF DEATH

Gary Wayne Church by Debbie Church Walsh

Chapter 3     THE JOURNEY INTO GRIEF

Faith Amber Scoot Brown by Linda Brown

Lindsay Faith Staton by Cindy Walls Staton

Chapter 4     MYTHS ABOUT GRIEF

Tyler Franklin Church by Sandra Church and Gail Johnson

Chapter 5     UNDERSTANDING THE EFFECTS OF GRIEF

Aaron Bradley Scott by Terri Scott

Howard Don Donald Williams, Jr. by Kathy H. Williams

Chapter 6     THE STAGES OF GRIEF

Megan Elizabeth Goodman by Jennifer Cline Goodman

Chapter 7     COLLECTING OUR SCATTERED SELVES

Shane Michael Christensen by Dan J Mahowald and Ranae Christensen

Chapter 8     FINDING OUR WAY

Kimberly Rachel Miller by Cheryl Miller

Chapter 9     MY FAITH LOOKS UP TO THEE

Ray Neal Pierce, Jr. by Elynn B. Pierce

Chapter 10   A PLACE CALLED HEAVEN

William Cameron Finley by Cam Finley

Chapter 11   GOD’S GIFT OF TEARS

Sarah Jean Wilkes by Louise Church Wilkes

Chapter 12   THE NEW NORMAL

James Kenneth Ken Willis, Jr. by Brenda P. Willis

Chapter 13   REINVESTING IN LIFE

Eddie Ray Roten by Dorothy Roten Beach

Christopher Chris Day Church by Ila Dean Hayes

Chapter 14   THE TIES THAT BIND

Kevin Wayne Triplett by Wayne Triplett

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

RESOURCES

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Poems

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Our Children – We Remember Them

Letting Go

Why?

Remember Me

What Cancer Cannot Do

A Child of Mine

Grief

When We Remember

The Chosen One

No Greater Pain

A Letter from Heaven

In Memory of My Son

The Secret of Death

The Inner Place

On the Death of the Beloved

His Journey’s Just Begun

For Always

Dying

Amazing Grace

The Homing

The Distant Shore

You’ll Never Walk Alone

Crossing the Bar

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

Hand

The Holly

Christmas In Heaven

Tears are a Language God Understands

Men Do Cry

The Lending

Looking Up

If They Could Speak

Gone From My Sight

Nova Era

Into the Arms of God

Cancer

Yesterdays

A Candle for You

My Tribute to Kevin

The Open Door

The God of All Comfort

Remembrance

IN MEMORIAM

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Faith Amber Scoot Brown

June 8, 2002 – June 26, 2008

Christopher Chris Day Church

March 6, 1956 – March 15, 2009

Gary Wayne Church

April 6, 1962 – March 13, 1967

Miscarried Baby of Craig and Kim B. Church

November 2007

Shane Michael Christensen

November 16, 1990 – October 26, 2009

Tyler Franklin Church

September 9, 1993 – October 7, 2007

William Cameron Finley

April 9, 1987 – December 19, 2009

Megan Elizabeth Goodman

August 28, 1984 – May 10, 2001

Kimberly Rachel Miller

May 19, 1985 – May 4, 2005

In%20Memoriam.tif

IN MEMORIAM

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Ray Neal Pierce, Jr.

November 2, 1955 – March 10, 1976

Eddie Ray Roten

August 3, 1958 – October 1, 2001

Kimela Dee Roten

September 11, 1965 – September 13, 1965

Aaron Bradley Scott

May 30, 1987 – December 12, 2002

Lindsay Faith Staton

February 2, 2002 – June 14, 2008

Kevin Wayne Triplett

December 7, 1986 – November 27, 2006

Sarah Jean Wilkes

December 9, 1957 – February 27, 1983

Howard Don Donald Williams, Jr.

March 29, 1988 – October 2, 2004

James Kenneth Ken Willis, Jr.

September 11, 1972 – January 4, 2004

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Our Children – We Remember Them

At the rising of the sun and as it is going down, we remember them.

At the opening of buds and the rebirth of spring, we remember them.

At the beginning of the year and at its end, we remember them.

As long as we live, they too will live.

For they are a part of us, as we remember them.

–Roland B. Gittelsohn

(Gates of Prayer – Reform Judaism Prayer Book)

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In May of 1999, Rev. Jim Gore, senior pastor of Millers Creek Baptist Church, led Kevin into the baptismal waters. This was a defining moment for Kevin as he was Buried with Christ in baptism and raised to walk in newness of life (Romans 6:4).

FOREWORD

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This book matters! I have known Wayne Triplett, the author of this very helpful book about living life after the death of one’s child, for more than twenty years. Wayne is one of the most intelligent people I know as his personal research on cancer verifies. He is also one of the most gifted. His skill in writing will be obvious as you read this material. Wayne’s talents also include the area of music. He is a gifted soloist; his voice and style have their own unique qualities. His educational skills extend beyond the classroom into the community and the sanctuary where his giftedness has been and continues to be helpful to many.

This book is about surviving after the death of one’s child. The author is very thorough in his research as well as relating personal experiences of his own and others. I have read many volumes about grief and recovery. Most of those books were written by authors who had not experienced genuine loss of a child or loved one. It’s this distinction that validates the existence of The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow. Wayne has shared from his heart as well as from his research. In the end, this writing certifies that one can and must work through the grief process because life is worth living and living well.

After spending time in the United States Air Force as a young man, I began a financial career that continued for fifteen years, filling several positions on my way to becoming the youngest executive in the company. But the Lord had other and more pressing work for me to do. Following additional schooling, I was ordained a minister of the Gospel. Now, with more than thirty years in the ministry, having conducted hundreds of funerals, standing alongside parents and children while ministering to families as they readjusted to life without their loved ones, I feel not only qualified but justified to speak to the issues of this book. The Bible says that the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort…comforts us in all our affliction that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the same comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God (2 Corinthians 1:3–4 NASB). It’s to this end that Wayne Triplett has scribed the words that follow. This book matters.

Dr. James M. (Jim) Gore

Pastor Emeritus – Millers Creek Baptist Church

Pastor – Hinshaw Street Baptist Church

Foothills Christian College (BOD)

Millers Creek, North Carolina

July 2010

PREFACE

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It’s December of 1933, and America is deep in the midst of the Great Depression. On the Lower East Side of New York, the Municipal Orphanage Girls’ Annex, has been the drab home of eleven-year-old Annie for all but the first two months of her life. She was left on the front steps of the orphanage with an unsigned note saying, Please take good care of our little darling. Her name is Annie. We have left half of a silver locket around her neck and kept the other half so that when we come back for her, you will know that she’s our baby. Annie wonders what her lost parents might be like. If her parents aren’t coming back for her, Annie is going to go find them.

One day the beautiful private secretary to Oliver Warbucks, the billionaire industrialist, comes calling. Warbucks has decided to invite an orphan to spend the Christmas holidays at his mansion. Annie is chosen and driven off in a limousine.

Oliver Warbucks arrives home from a business trip and is unhappy to discover that the invited orphan isn’t a boy. Still, he agrees to take Annie to the movies, to the Roxy Theater, and walk forty-five blocks to Times Square, through the streets of the city that Warbucks loves best, New York City. He finds himself unexpectedly growing to like her.

When President Roosevelt arrives at Warbucks for Christmas dinner, Annie innocently blurts out to the glum group that things are bound to get better soon. Everyone, including the President, is turned optimistic by Annie’s cheery spirits. She bursts into song.

The sun’ll come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, there’ll be sun! Just thinkin’ about tomorrow, clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow, ‘til there’s none!

In the musical Annie, an orphan, Annie, and her dog Sandy are placed in the lap of luxury for a week as part of a publicity campaign for Oliver Warbucks. However, Annie’s stay turns out to be much more than anyone had bargained for as she works her way into everyone’s hearts and learns a few things herself.

Hope against hope, when a child—our child—dies, amidst the shock and turmoil, we wonder if the sun will ever come out again. Buckets of tears and a heart forever broken bear witness to our descent into the depths of despair.

To everything there is a season. The sun greets us each morning and winks good-bye with the last slivers of sunset. The tides relentless ebb and flow confirm the predictability of our natural world. Spring’s warmth hastens a seedling’s emergence as a new life struggling in its quest upward to embrace the light, putting down roots with an ever-expanding canopy reaching heavenward. Nature’s orchestrated progression ambles on unabated. Even with a parent’s death and our accompanying grief, nature’s plan dictates that this must happen. When our child dies the stability and predictability known all too well go out the window. We are left heaving and quaking by the unnaturalness of it all. Nothing can prepare us, there is no prelude to soften the utter devastation and, as some have called it, the never-ending stomachache is just beginning.

Life spirals downward leaving many spinning out of control. The blur continues through our child’s memorial service and out the other side as we reach for lifelines. We read every book imaginable to ease the pain of separation while longing for that hope of a future reunion. These waters are uncharted without benefit of a guide.

A minister once remarked in a funeral message, Your child is gone from us, but he is not lost. When you know where someone is, they are not lost. He is in heaven with Jesus. This is the faith, hope, and assurance that sustains me. As the psalmist David said at the death of his son, But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me (2 Samuel 12:23 NIV).

My reason for writing this book is to give hope to grieving parents. But it is not just for bereaved parents. Death is everybody’s business. I have drawn from a wide variety of sources in writing this second book: the writings of and conversations with bereaved parents, my own research and readings, and my personal experience with grief in the loss of my son, Kevin. My prayer is that this book will reinforce in your heart the preciousness of life and attest to the power of a vibrant, living faith in enabling you to break through the clouds of despair into new realms of sunlight and hope. You may cry a little, but reconnecting is gained through tears, not in going around them.

In this book, we will explore various aspects of grief and the slow, agonizing march to some semblance of recovery. You will meet parents who share eighteen intimate stories of loss and perseverance in the midst of their sadness. If you are a parent who has lost a child, you will meet yourself in this book, in all your pain, and you will be helped by learning that you are not alone. You can survive the death of a child. You can, with God’s help, turn your heart-wrenching loss into something that will make a difference in others’ lives. Death has broken our most precious relationship. You see, we still had love to give but our child cannot receive it. Is it possible to ever get to a day or time when once again the colors of a rainbow bring a smile? Will the colors be as vibrant as before?

My writing has become my therapy, my ministry, an outlet for me, and my way of helping others who are hurting. I challenge each of you to find your niche in the world, to do your part to make the world a better place, and to spread sunshine every day in your corner of the world. It’s true. The more we give, the more we receive. By focusing more on others and less on ourselves, we begin to experience life’s true meaning.

Almost four years after the death of my son, Kevin, I realize that we are never over it. Our lives continue as works in progress, but our grief will never end. We will mourn for our child every day the rest of our lives. We will never return to normal. But slowly, we will live again. One life ended, and another life—ours—is permanently changed. One day we will smile at the sound of a cardinal visiting our bird feeder. One day we will be able to hold back the tears as we recall fond memories of our child with a friend. One day, although visited by the pangs of separation, we will discover a break in the clouds. The sun will come out tomorrow!

Wayne Triplett

Millers Creek, North Carolina

July 2010

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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The realization of this book is due in large part to the bereaved parents you will meet who in spite of their loss were determined to redeem their child’s death from meaninglessness by writing narratives—celebrating the life that once was and the life yet to come. Their stories became the framework of this book while offering the author strength to carry on. Many of them could not let themselves grieve for fear that it would hurt more than they could bear. Some of them could not stop grieving for fear that if they ever got over their loss, they would lose their child again. All of them are still somewhere on their journey through grief, continuing their quest for a new normal.

This book was the product of many hours of my reading the offerings of other bereaved parents, psychologists, and professionals detailed in the bibliography. Their knowledge, depth of feeling, and understanding greatly inspired me.

The loss of my beloved son, Kevin, and the void left in my heart no one else can fill, became my ultimate inspiration for this book. While I mourn his passing, his legacy fills my life and waking hours. He continues to teach me, and that in turn has spilled out onto the pages of this book. No stronger hope lies in my being than the assurance that I will see him, my beloved Kevin, again one day. Kevin’s passing, although bitterly painful, has opened my eyes even wider to the brevity of our time on earth. There is a longing for more than fleeting, earthly pleasures can offer, a longing for things more spiritual and eternal. Kevin’s legacy continues to unfold in the lives of those who were changed for the better from knowing him. His light still shines!

CHAPTER I

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A DEATH MOST PRECIOUS

Who better to soften the wound of another,

than one who has suffered the wound himself?

–Thomas Jefferson

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K evin’s seventh trip to the M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston was to have been a tune up to get his lung infection under control with stronger antibiotics as well as repeat the usual scans and develop a treatment plan. Kevin was hospitalized on Tuesday evening, November 21, 2006 because of continued fever and general discomfort. I had been giving him nourishment through his G-tube as well as chemotherapy in our hotel room. He seemed to be responding well to the medications, but he had some puffiness around his eyes. This possibly was due to edema, although he had been taking a fluid pill.

The hospital staff prepared a Thanksgiving meal for those patients and their families who were there, and Kevin enjoyed the turkey and trimmings. On Saturday evening after Thanksgiving, he became restless for a while and required some morphine. This happened again on Sunday evening, November 26, and he required more meds. He laid back in bed, and I presumed he was resting, so I opened his laptop computer and composed two e-mail updates to my school staff at his bedside.

The evening wore on with his vital signs fluctuating and him becoming more lethargic. When the doctor on call came in I asked her, Do you think he is going to be ok? She replied, We’ve seen this before. Sometimes they make it through the night. Immediately, I felt a shock course through my body. Was Kevin going to die tonight? He was just talking an hour earlier. I don’t think Kevin heard her, and I never told him what she said. I just tried to make him comfortable. His mom and I took turns wiping his forehead, rubbing his arms, and holding his hands over the next six hours. I just want to go home, he said to his mom.

How are you feeling, honey? I asked. Are you ok? He never spoke but nodded his head up and down. Is anything hurting you? I asked. This time he turned his head left and right signaling that he was in no pain. His morphine had been increased and his oxygen level on the machine was at its highest setting. There was a steady stream of nurses in and out, each respecting our privacy. I (we) love you Kevin, and I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you all night, I kept repeating. I continued holding and caressing his hands. I placed a small cassette player beside him and began playing a taped sermon by Pastor Craig Church which had been sent to us. I borrowed the doctor’s stethoscope and listened to his heart beating. His breathing became more labored and the oxygen bag attached to his face filled and emptied sporadically.

He looked at me with eyes wide open as if he was staring past me, and I sensed his time was growing short. I noticed a slight grin on his face as his eyes blared one final time. It was 4:18 AM CST in Houston, TX, and Kevin had taken his last breath. I turned to his mother and said, I think he’s gone. I turned him from his side to his back. He looked so serene and was warm to the touch. For the first time in ages, he was in no pain. Kevin’s seven-year battle against osteosarcoma had ended. No doubt, Jesus had just welcomed him home.

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Letting Go

I thought about so many things, as I held tightly to your hand.

Oh, how I wished that you were strong and happy once again.

But Jesus knew the answer, and I knew He loved you so.

So I gave to you life’s greatest gift, the gift of letting go.

–Anonymous

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I was not scared or panicky. I was there to witness his birth and now in the end, his death. It was a spiritual moment for me. With tear-filled eyes, Kathy (Kevin’s mom) and I gathered our things, and a short time later met with the chaplain around Kevin’s bedside for prayer. Kevin was an organ donor and his corneas would help others to see. He would make his final trip back to North Carolina on a later flight. Within twenty minutes of his death, I called Kevin’s dear friend, Pastor Craig Church. Craig, sorry to call you so early, but I have some bad news to tell you. What’s wrong? Is it Kevin? he asked. Yes, he passed away a few minutes ago, I said through tears. We both cried together.

I knew that barring a miracle, cancer would eventually claim Kevin. He knew it, too and on occasion stated, Dad, I don’t want to live another fifteen months like the last. I had just as soon go home to be with Jesus. He wanted to live, he fought hard all the way, but he knew the odds of surviving and living a normal life were not in his favor.

My heart aches for him daily, and I miss so many of the things that were Kevin. The bet I can make you smile and show your teeth game we played when he was small, the family hug with which he often embraced his mom and me, the give me five he and I often exchanged spontaneously as we traveled down the road together, grabbing his ticklish left knee suddenly causing him to burst into laughter, all these are now precious memories. I can still see his infectious smile as I would raise my hand in praise as the lyrics of a Christian rock song touched my heartstrings as we rode to and from chemotherapy sessions. Cradling his toboggan or shirt to my face, or lifting the covers of his still made bed ever so slightly, I can breathe in the lingering essence which was Kevin. I am forever to relive in my mind’s eye the way he would answer me with a slight left and right motion of his outstretched hand, and I can still see the inward pursing of his lips as he made beautiful music with his guitar. (Triplett 2008, 287–289, xv–xvi)

There is no loss that cuts to the core of our being as that of a child, regardless of the child’s age. The loss of a child creates a rift in the natural order of a parent’s world. The time we spent loving, nurturing, and caring for his or her bright future is wrenched from us. The heartbreak is like no other. Parents who survive and live through these tragedies without becoming bitter emerge as the strongest, most loving people on earth. Experts surmise that parental grief often lasts a lifetime. Our lives are forever altered when our irreplaceable child dies. Nobody thinks it will happen to them or to their child. And when it happens, then it’s our life instead of some stranger on television. It stops feeling like a story. It starts affecting our every moment.

No matter the age, the smallest infant or the mature adult, the loss of a child is the most devastating blow a parent can experience. How many have stood over a dying child’s bed saying, I wish it were me! And meant it with all their heart. We cannot handle the loss of a child. The moment of loss is a moment of monumental change. In a moment of time we go from the land of the living to the land of the dead. To lose a child is to enter a new world, a world bounded by life and death where both combine in seemingly inseparable ways. We will never return to the world as we knew it, nor, would we want to without our child. Every grief is as individual as a fingerprint.

All the wonderful things that life had to offer me were wrapped up in Kevin. Life’s simple gifts leave us unaware of their impact on our lives—until they are gone and out of touch forever. Never have I felt the wonder and beauty and joy of life so keenly as now in my grief that Kevin is not here to enjoy them. When I see parents cross or impatient with their children, I want to say to them, But they are still alive! Be thankful for that! They may be difficult at times, but you have them with you! You, who are suffering this loss, will feel what I mean. Others, luckily who have not, cannot. I would admonish them to embrace their child with added rapture and live fully the joy of their presence.

People ask, How can you stand it without Kevin? It’s not a matter of being able to stand it. It’s a matter of affirming and opening your heart and mind to believe truly what you have been taught all your life—that there is a God whose ways are not our ways (Isaiah 55:8) and only complete trust in His infinite wisdom can bring you peace. You cling to that hope with your whole being.

The death of a child bewilders our hearts. We find ourselves living in a different time zone, the time before our child’s death and the time after. There are no answers. There never have been. Even in the depths of our despair and grief, there is the energy of hope lying hidden. There are the beliefs which for a season lie hidden: the redeeming value of friends, the belief in life everlasting, the ultimate adequacy of God to supply our needs, and the indestructibility of love.

The child-parent bonds which we knew so well are ripped apart. Our child invited our love, and we returned it richly. The hopes and future aspirations most precious to us dissolve before our eyes. The protective bubble we placed around our child has burst. We lost a piece of ourselves, our identity, and our purpose for living. Children aren’t supposed to die, at least until they are old.

Will we ever see our child again? Where, when, how? What will they look like? Will we ever be able to speak with them and hold them close? Our child was torn from us. We were left with a mortal wound that cannot be healed unless and until we can once again reach out and touch them and know that they are well. What wouldn’t we give to once again see them smile? See them as they are today?

We may think that our child is eternally young, beyond the power of old age and cynicism, never to be cut down or ever detract from the eloquence of their life. Heaven must be enlivened and certainly enriched by their arrival and the unspoiled wonder they bring with them.

When death occurs, the life that is gone is irretrievable on this earthly plain. We can call all the numbers in the phone book, travel to the moon, offer a king’s ransom, but we cannot bring back our child, this part of us, the fruit of our very soul. As horrible as this feeling of helplessness is, it is this point at which a special convergence enters life. Finity and infinity meet. Although hidden from view now, there ultimately arrives the peace that passes all understanding.

Although hope for happiness exists, this loss leaves us drowning in deep despair. So many major changes with heightened emotions cascade over us as we embark on an often unacknowledged healing process. Understanding these challenges can help us in working through them.

The sense of disorder permeates everything we do when a child is lost. Not only physically and emotionally, but the entire state of our world in general is in disarray. Our future is attached to our children, and we expect them to outlive us. With this loss, our world crumbles and along with it the hopes and dreams of