Thanksgiving: it is November, and we are approaching the time of year for giving thanks. As bereaved parents, we might say to ourselves, “What do we have to be thankful for?” Our child is gone from our lives forever. We will never see them again. We will never speak to them again. We will never hear them call out to us again in the night for comfort. We have lost part of ourselves, and when a family holiday comes around for celebration, we sometimes, for a while, take a step back in our grief journey.
I know when this time of year comes around, I try very hard not to be negative, but it is difficult. Thanksgiving 1993 was the last time I saw my daughter in a family setting eating Turkey and pumpkin pie. It was a happy time for us all, and I try to focus on those and other happy times. So I sat down last week and made a list of all the things in my new life I am grateful for at this holiday season. I’d like to share that list with you.
I am thankful I could share 27 years of my daughter’s life with her. She was a beautiful, intelligent, gracious child who I was always so proud of and will always be proud of. I am so thankful I had her and would not trade that for anything.
I am thankful that I have wonderful memories of my child in photos and tapes, in talking and sharing with her good friends, and in knowing she was very loved by not only her Dad and I but also everyone with whom she came in contact.
I am thankful for friends who are always so willing to share the holiday with my husband and I. Most of the time we go, although it can be very difficult listening to others talk about their children and grandchildren, but we go because we know others care, and it warms our heart.
I am thankful for my three godchildren, born from my daughter’s best friend. Since I will never have grandchildren, I was honored to be asked to be a godmother as Marcy’s Dad was to be a godfather. We are always included in any family gatherings and all birthday parties. The children spend the night occasionally, and we try to do fun things. One of them is named after my daughter and strangely enough, I do not think of my Marcy when I say her name. She is her own person, and I respect that.
I am thankful for a beautiful day when the sun shines down, and I can watch the flowers bloom. I wish I could share it with my daughter in person, but I know she is looking down on me and wishing me well.
I am thankful when I can be of help to someone in need, whether it be someone who needs a meal or someone who just needs company so as not to feel lonely.
I am thankful that I can wake up each day to a new beginning and get excited about the little things I do: exercise, play bridge, work on travel related projects, write and visit with my husband, who is also a very busy person. A fulfilling day is one where I get at least three important things done from a long list of items I’d like to accomplish.
Positive thoughts help tremendously at the holiday season. Open your heart and mind and allow yourself to see the simple everyday things that you can be grateful for. I hope you can take some of these thoughts and incorporate them into your life. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, and I hope you can share some of the holiday with friends and loved ones.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Sharing Memories
Sharing memories after the death of a child can help the grieving family more than you’ll ever know.
If you were close to the child who died, there are many things you can do to help, but the absolute best is to help keep their memory alive by sharing precious moments you had with the child, whether it was a school function, a working environment, a party or just a fun evening at one of the homes.
I give the example of my own experience when my daughter died. Even those who didn’t know my daughter Marcy were able to share something comforting. I met the couple who happened to be right behind her car accident. I did not know any circumstances of the accident and was eager to hear what they had to say. They were able to give me a minute by minute description of what they had seen. You see, they knew my daughter’s husband through work, but had never met Marcy. They did not recognize either of them because the new car which had just been driven off the dealer’s lot, was unrecognizable and Marcy's husband was pinned underneath parts of the debris. They politely asked me if I wanted to know the details as they saw the accident unfold.
I said, “Yes, I want to know everything you can tell me. No one else could do that.” And so they did. They particularly spoke of how a paramedic was two cars away and tried for 20 minutes to resuscitate Marcy. They took Simon the few blocks to the hospital, knowing he needed a life-threatening operation. They stayed and watched the time unfold and the obviously distraught expression and mannerisms of the paramedic, knowing after a few minutes there was nothing he could do to help Marcy. It was important to hear from them that she looked peaceful, as though she was just asleep. It was also comforting to know she did not suffer. It was an instant death. This couple took the time to tell it like it happened. I appreciated their honesty and will always cherish knowing the facts from an eye witness.
As time passed I received over 100 notes and stories from Marcy’s friends, about what a good friend she was and how she held groups of people together with her friendship and kindness. It was comforting to know how much she was loved and that she left a legacy for others to emulate.
At her funeral more than 300 people attended. Some gave eulogies and spoke of what she meant to them. It does help in the grief process to know that your child was admired by so many. I was told a year later near the anniversary of the accident that some of her friends got together at a restaurant to talk and reminisce about her. One of her friends was kind enough to call and tell me about the meeting. There were funny stories and thoughtful moments. All their comments were precious memories to keep within my heart.
The testimonies of people regarding those who died are witness to what kind of young people they were. Good does come from tragedy in the form of memories, in this case, so I would encourage anyone who has the opportunity and ability to share something comforting with the remaining family after the death of a child to do just that.
If you were close to the child who died, there are many things you can do to help, but the absolute best is to help keep their memory alive by sharing precious moments you had with the child, whether it was a school function, a working environment, a party or just a fun evening at one of the homes.
I give the example of my own experience when my daughter died. Even those who didn’t know my daughter Marcy were able to share something comforting. I met the couple who happened to be right behind her car accident. I did not know any circumstances of the accident and was eager to hear what they had to say. They were able to give me a minute by minute description of what they had seen. You see, they knew my daughter’s husband through work, but had never met Marcy. They did not recognize either of them because the new car which had just been driven off the dealer’s lot, was unrecognizable and Marcy's husband was pinned underneath parts of the debris. They politely asked me if I wanted to know the details as they saw the accident unfold.
I said, “Yes, I want to know everything you can tell me. No one else could do that.” And so they did. They particularly spoke of how a paramedic was two cars away and tried for 20 minutes to resuscitate Marcy. They took Simon the few blocks to the hospital, knowing he needed a life-threatening operation. They stayed and watched the time unfold and the obviously distraught expression and mannerisms of the paramedic, knowing after a few minutes there was nothing he could do to help Marcy. It was important to hear from them that she looked peaceful, as though she was just asleep. It was also comforting to know she did not suffer. It was an instant death. This couple took the time to tell it like it happened. I appreciated their honesty and will always cherish knowing the facts from an eye witness.
As time passed I received over 100 notes and stories from Marcy’s friends, about what a good friend she was and how she held groups of people together with her friendship and kindness. It was comforting to know how much she was loved and that she left a legacy for others to emulate.
At her funeral more than 300 people attended. Some gave eulogies and spoke of what she meant to them. It does help in the grief process to know that your child was admired by so many. I was told a year later near the anniversary of the accident that some of her friends got together at a restaurant to talk and reminisce about her. One of her friends was kind enough to call and tell me about the meeting. There were funny stories and thoughtful moments. All their comments were precious memories to keep within my heart.
The testimonies of people regarding those who died are witness to what kind of young people they were. Good does come from tragedy in the form of memories, in this case, so I would encourage anyone who has the opportunity and ability to share something comforting with the remaining family after the death of a child to do just that.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Pain and Suffering
A powerful Buddhist quote: “Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.” When you are in pain, your heart aches, your body feels numb, because someone you love is gone. When we suffer, we may ask, “Will we ever be able to move on? We’re in a rut. We resist getting better.”
The onslaught of pain is inevitable when a child dies. This human being was part of you. You helped make this person, so naturally, if they die (for whatever reason), a part of you dies also, and your heart aches for them. Shock, anger, fright and shaken: any of these emotions can cause pain. It may take either a short or long while before your pain is gone, but there are some who never move on, who never can accept what happened. These people are suffering unnecessarily. There are some strategies that might help those who are having difficulty moving forward and beyond suffering.
1. Write a journal about your feelings. If you have a bad dream or even a good dream, write it down in the morning and reflect on it later in the day.
2. Take a long walk each day to reflect, cry, pray or just sit by yourself.
3. Describe your feelings in a poem, drawing or letter to your loved one and put away for a while, look at it again and reflect on what you said or sketched.
4. See a grief counselor or spiritual leader. These people often have words of wisdom to guide you along on your journey and no one else needs to know you have seen them, if you find it embarrassing.
5. Do things with family. Although this may bring back memories you want to forget, it may also bring back good memories of your loved one that you can keep in your heart forever and think about often.
6. Ask friends to share memories of your loved one. Hard as you may try, you can’t remember everything, and your friends may be able to lighten your heart and mind with a story that you can treasure forever.
7. To feel connected to your loved one, wear a piece of clothing or piece of jewelry that was once theirs.
8. Do a small pamphlet of your loved one’s life in pictures and words and give it to special family and friends who you believe never want your loved one forgotten.
9. Contribute to a cause or start a scholarship fund or foundation in memory of your loved one. See that others can make their lives better through your help. Your loved one would be proud of you.
10. Be a friend to another person who is grieving. Shared experiences can help both of you going through the grieving process.
11. Live each day to the fullest. Help others when you are needed. Hug others when they need your touch. Show patience, sympathy, and empathy to others. Give others what you would also like to have, a soft touch, an understanding smile, a shoulder to lean on, and it will come back to you ten-fold.
Make a commitment to yourself that you will do the best you can each in the midst of your loss, and your life will have more meaning and reach a type of fulfillment you never dreamed possible. Follow your heart by taking one step at a time to deal with your pain and suffering.
.
The onslaught of pain is inevitable when a child dies. This human being was part of you. You helped make this person, so naturally, if they die (for whatever reason), a part of you dies also, and your heart aches for them. Shock, anger, fright and shaken: any of these emotions can cause pain. It may take either a short or long while before your pain is gone, but there are some who never move on, who never can accept what happened. These people are suffering unnecessarily. There are some strategies that might help those who are having difficulty moving forward and beyond suffering.
1. Write a journal about your feelings. If you have a bad dream or even a good dream, write it down in the morning and reflect on it later in the day.
2. Take a long walk each day to reflect, cry, pray or just sit by yourself.
3. Describe your feelings in a poem, drawing or letter to your loved one and put away for a while, look at it again and reflect on what you said or sketched.
4. See a grief counselor or spiritual leader. These people often have words of wisdom to guide you along on your journey and no one else needs to know you have seen them, if you find it embarrassing.
5. Do things with family. Although this may bring back memories you want to forget, it may also bring back good memories of your loved one that you can keep in your heart forever and think about often.
6. Ask friends to share memories of your loved one. Hard as you may try, you can’t remember everything, and your friends may be able to lighten your heart and mind with a story that you can treasure forever.
7. To feel connected to your loved one, wear a piece of clothing or piece of jewelry that was once theirs.
8. Do a small pamphlet of your loved one’s life in pictures and words and give it to special family and friends who you believe never want your loved one forgotten.
9. Contribute to a cause or start a scholarship fund or foundation in memory of your loved one. See that others can make their lives better through your help. Your loved one would be proud of you.
10. Be a friend to another person who is grieving. Shared experiences can help both of you going through the grieving process.
11. Live each day to the fullest. Help others when you are needed. Hug others when they need your touch. Show patience, sympathy, and empathy to others. Give others what you would also like to have, a soft touch, an understanding smile, a shoulder to lean on, and it will come back to you ten-fold.
Make a commitment to yourself that you will do the best you can each in the midst of your loss, and your life will have more meaning and reach a type of fulfillment you never dreamed possible. Follow your heart by taking one step at a time to deal with your pain and suffering.
.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
The Hardest Journey of All
The grief journey after losing a child is the hardest journey a person will ever be asked to take.
What you now know:
It’s hard because you’ve lost the most important person in your life.
It’s hard because you can break down physically, mentally and emotionally from all the trauma you have gone through.
It’s hard because you become a different person.
It’s hard because you must take care of yourself to stay healthy and well.
It’s hard because you find yourself crying all the time.
It’s hard because you will lose old friends.
It’s hard because everything becomes a blurred memory and you’re not quite sure how to handle it.
It’s hard because it’s so overwhelming.
It’s hard because you know you must go on and don’t really want to.
It’s hard because people don’t understand your anxiety and find it difficult to help you.
It’s hard because you can fall apart any minute of any day.
It’s hard because of all the birthdays, holidays and anniversaries you shared together.
It’s hard because at this point you don’t really care about anything or anyone except the child you lost.
It’s hard to make any kind of decision.
It’s hard to eat properly and get enough exercise.
It’s hard because you can’t sleep at night.
What you will find in your future:
You have changed for the better.
You will rewrite your address book.
New friends will accept who you are and who you will become.
People who are going through the same experience can be of comfort.
A deeper appreciation of others, particularly family members will be in your thoughts.
You are a more compassionate person.
You have strength you never knew you had.
You have faced the worst thing that could happen and survived.
Remember, “Grief is not about getting over it. It’s about coming through it and finding a way to deal with it by moving forward with your life.”
What you now know:
It’s hard because you’ve lost the most important person in your life.
It’s hard because you can break down physically, mentally and emotionally from all the trauma you have gone through.
It’s hard because you become a different person.
It’s hard because you must take care of yourself to stay healthy and well.
It’s hard because you find yourself crying all the time.
It’s hard because you will lose old friends.
It’s hard because everything becomes a blurred memory and you’re not quite sure how to handle it.
It’s hard because it’s so overwhelming.
It’s hard because you know you must go on and don’t really want to.
It’s hard because people don’t understand your anxiety and find it difficult to help you.
It’s hard because you can fall apart any minute of any day.
It’s hard because of all the birthdays, holidays and anniversaries you shared together.
It’s hard because at this point you don’t really care about anything or anyone except the child you lost.
It’s hard to make any kind of decision.
It’s hard to eat properly and get enough exercise.
It’s hard because you can’t sleep at night.
What you will find in your future:
You have changed for the better.
You will rewrite your address book.
New friends will accept who you are and who you will become.
People who are going through the same experience can be of comfort.
A deeper appreciation of others, particularly family members will be in your thoughts.
You are a more compassionate person.
You have strength you never knew you had.
You have faced the worst thing that could happen and survived.
Remember, “Grief is not about getting over it. It’s about coming through it and finding a way to deal with it by moving forward with your life.”
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Inspirational Music for the Bereaved
So many things remind us of our child. I know that when I hear a particular song that my daughter enjoyed listening to, singing to or dancing to, my heart skips a beat and emotions rush to the surface. It is a poignant moment and tears may come to my eyes or I may have a smile on my face, remembering those times.
Judy Philbin, who sings inspirational music, has a CD called “Candle In the Window” with songs and words most bereaved parents can relate to. Her soft melodious voice is easy to listen to as the words speak to the heart. In this CD she explores the many levels of “saying goodbye” while affirming that love never dies. Some of the song titles include: You Are There, Cry You a Waterfall, Really Gonna Miss You, Love Survives, and I Still Can’t Say Goodbye.
Judy realized the powerful way in which melody and lyrics can offer solace and healing following the death of a loved one. Her music helps one let go of emotions that may be bottled up inside and enables others to move on in their grief journey.
Judy has been singing for grief support events for 20 years in addition to other venues. After losing her daughter during pregnancy, it was the hospital support team that made her understand there are many ways to help others. For her, it was music.
“I realized my songs and words were changing people’s lives. Parents would say to me, ‘Your voice is healing’ or 'that one song helped me understand what I am going through.’ So I compiled songs into this CD,” she said, “knowing this is my way of helping others.
I, too, realized from the beginning that songs with meaningful words would be part of my life. There are many songs that remind me of my daughter for one reason or another. One of the last songs she spoke of before she died was the theme song from Whitney Houston’s, The Bodyguard, “I’ll Always Love You.” It is not that the words could be overwhelmingly related to Marcy. It is just that she loved the song, so now I love it also and always think of her when I hear it on the radio or on my Bodyguard CD. One of Marcy’s friends had a special song played at her funeral that she thought fit Marcy’s personality and life perfectly. I do not know the name of it anymore, but at the time I would have had to agree, it was very meaningful. John Lennon’s song “Woman” is on a video that one of Marcy’s friends did showing highlights of her life. When it is now played on the radio, I always think of that tape and how meaningful the words are to me now.
Judy’s collection of songs takes the listener deep inside to places that may not otherwise be accessible. Each song honors the memory of a loved one while celebrating the power of love to transcend the boundaries of death. To get a copy of her CD or to listen to the tunes, go to www.candleinthewind.net or iTunes. I’m sure you will be as impressed with it as I am.
Judy Philbin, who sings inspirational music, has a CD called “Candle In the Window” with songs and words most bereaved parents can relate to. Her soft melodious voice is easy to listen to as the words speak to the heart. In this CD she explores the many levels of “saying goodbye” while affirming that love never dies. Some of the song titles include: You Are There, Cry You a Waterfall, Really Gonna Miss You, Love Survives, and I Still Can’t Say Goodbye.
Judy realized the powerful way in which melody and lyrics can offer solace and healing following the death of a loved one. Her music helps one let go of emotions that may be bottled up inside and enables others to move on in their grief journey.
Judy has been singing for grief support events for 20 years in addition to other venues. After losing her daughter during pregnancy, it was the hospital support team that made her understand there are many ways to help others. For her, it was music.
“I realized my songs and words were changing people’s lives. Parents would say to me, ‘Your voice is healing’ or 'that one song helped me understand what I am going through.’ So I compiled songs into this CD,” she said, “knowing this is my way of helping others.
I, too, realized from the beginning that songs with meaningful words would be part of my life. There are many songs that remind me of my daughter for one reason or another. One of the last songs she spoke of before she died was the theme song from Whitney Houston’s, The Bodyguard, “I’ll Always Love You.” It is not that the words could be overwhelmingly related to Marcy. It is just that she loved the song, so now I love it also and always think of her when I hear it on the radio or on my Bodyguard CD. One of Marcy’s friends had a special song played at her funeral that she thought fit Marcy’s personality and life perfectly. I do not know the name of it anymore, but at the time I would have had to agree, it was very meaningful. John Lennon’s song “Woman” is on a video that one of Marcy’s friends did showing highlights of her life. When it is now played on the radio, I always think of that tape and how meaningful the words are to me now.
Judy’s collection of songs takes the listener deep inside to places that may not otherwise be accessible. Each song honors the memory of a loved one while celebrating the power of love to transcend the boundaries of death. To get a copy of her CD or to listen to the tunes, go to www.candleinthewind.net or iTunes. I’m sure you will be as impressed with it as I am.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Alphabet of Grief
If you think of every letter in the alphabet, there is a grief word that adequately describes the anguish one feels as a bereaved parent in 98% of them. Thanks to Florence Godfrey from West Virginia who was able to pinpoint these words. If you can think of others, please let me know and I will add them to the list.
A
alone, aching, agonized
B
broken, bereft, betrayed, bitter, battered
C
crippled, crushed, cheerless
D
Distraught, destroyed, dejected, desolate, devastated, drained, deflated
E
empty, exhausted
F
failed, forsaken, frightened
G
grieving
H
Helpless, heartbroken, horrified, hurt, hit
I
incompetent, incomplete
J
jealous
K
kicked
L
lessened, lost
M
Miserable
N
numb
O
overwhelmed, out of touch
P
powerless, pained, pining, punched
Q
questioning
R
rejected
S
sadness
T
tormented, troubled, trampled upon
U
unfit, unhinged, useless
V
void
W
weakened, wretched, worthless
XYZ
yearning
A
alone, aching, agonized
B
broken, bereft, betrayed, bitter, battered
C
crippled, crushed, cheerless
D
Distraught, destroyed, dejected, desolate, devastated, drained, deflated
E
empty, exhausted
F
failed, forsaken, frightened
G
grieving
H
Helpless, heartbroken, horrified, hurt, hit
I
incompetent, incomplete
J
jealous
K
kicked
L
lessened, lost
M
Miserable
N
numb
O
overwhelmed, out of touch
P
powerless, pained, pining, punched
Q
questioning
R
rejected
S
sadness
T
tormented, troubled, trampled upon
U
unfit, unhinged, useless
V
void
W
weakened, wretched, worthless
XYZ
yearning
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Time and Its Function in the Grief Process
Last week I was talking to a friend whose husband died last year suddenly. Coincidentally, another friend whose husband died years ago was standing with me. My friend said asked how the other gal with the recent loss was doing. She answered, “Very well, thanks.” I looked at her and thought, yes, she does look much better, as I knew she would after a year or so. “Time is a great healer,” said my other friend, and turned to me…”in most cases.” I knew she was referring to the fact that the loss of a child was too great a loss for anyone to have to bear. I appreciated her comment, but lost it then. I became very teary-eyed, as I shook my head and agreed with my friend. The passage of time does ease most pain.
I got to thinking about TIME in relationship to grieving and realized time plays an important function in the grief process in general.
Time is precious to us. In relationship to our child, the time we spent with them is priceless. As we think of them now that they are gone, time stops for us. We want to remember everything we said to them, all the activities we went to with them, all the loving moments of hugging and kissing. Some of us record what we can remember (and it won’t be everything). We can then ask others what they remember and record some more. As the days, month, and years pass, we will continue to remember as will others. Keep recording and you will discover the gift of remembrance and comfort.
Impatient with time. Time can be a negative in our grief journey. Can we do this grief journey? How long will it take? We are impatient. We want all this to be over with, and soon. It won’t happen that way. Time will not release us. We don’t like that our child is gone; we don’t like that our spouse, our parents, our friends can’t make us feel better. We want to know what we can do to move us along. Wanting to heal is a good sign. Just take it slowly and be patient.
Time and choices. In our grief, will we make wise choices? Maybe, maybe not. We tend to want others to make those choices for us, to relieve us from that burden. We may not even care about what happens in our future right now. Don’t feel that way. Take charge, whether we feel we have the energy right now or not. Reclaim yourself.
Time to move on. As much as we’d like to heal and get better quickly, that won’t happen and others can’t expect us to be better in a month, a few months, or even a year. Everyone grieves differently and everyone is entitled to move at their own pace. Others may get impatient with us, may be uncomfortable with our need to talk about our loss, but that becomes their problem. They may walk away from us, but isn’t that their loss. We try to be the friend they want, but it is very hard. We hope they understand, but most don’t. Now we need friends who are willing to walk alongside us on our journey no matter how long that journey takes.
Time as benchmarks. When your child dies, you will experience many firsts: the first dinner without them, the first school day without waving goodbye, the first year, the first time we go back to work, the first summer vacation with one less family member; the first birthday after the death, and so on. When we pass these benchmarks, we can breathe a sigh of relief. We’ve made it through. We are surviving, even though it is impossible to believe that we did it or even wanted to.
Time to reflect. We each need moments for ourselves, when we don’t want to be with others or do activities we have always done, when we want to think about this loss that has changed our lives so irrevocably, when we want to reflect on “what now?” This doesn’t mean we are running away; it simply means that to act as if nothing has happened doesn’t work. When we realize we can accept what has happened, we are ready to re-enter the world we know. It will be a different world; we will have new priorities and goals; what was once important to us may no longer matter. But that is okay. Change can be for the good also.
Time is a healer. The intensity we feel at the beginning of our loss will diminish with time and although the pain and hurt will never go away, we learn to deal with it, to live with the unanswered question, “Why me?” “Why my child?” The grief will always be with you and sometimes, unexpectedly, for no good reason, your eyes will become watery and tears may fall as you remember. Don’t be embarrassed. A wave of grief is a common occurrence as it was for me that night last week. It will pass, and your life will continue on with both special moments and private moments locked forever deep in your heart.
I got to thinking about TIME in relationship to grieving and realized time plays an important function in the grief process in general.
Time is precious to us. In relationship to our child, the time we spent with them is priceless. As we think of them now that they are gone, time stops for us. We want to remember everything we said to them, all the activities we went to with them, all the loving moments of hugging and kissing. Some of us record what we can remember (and it won’t be everything). We can then ask others what they remember and record some more. As the days, month, and years pass, we will continue to remember as will others. Keep recording and you will discover the gift of remembrance and comfort.
Impatient with time. Time can be a negative in our grief journey. Can we do this grief journey? How long will it take? We are impatient. We want all this to be over with, and soon. It won’t happen that way. Time will not release us. We don’t like that our child is gone; we don’t like that our spouse, our parents, our friends can’t make us feel better. We want to know what we can do to move us along. Wanting to heal is a good sign. Just take it slowly and be patient.
Time and choices. In our grief, will we make wise choices? Maybe, maybe not. We tend to want others to make those choices for us, to relieve us from that burden. We may not even care about what happens in our future right now. Don’t feel that way. Take charge, whether we feel we have the energy right now or not. Reclaim yourself.
Time to move on. As much as we’d like to heal and get better quickly, that won’t happen and others can’t expect us to be better in a month, a few months, or even a year. Everyone grieves differently and everyone is entitled to move at their own pace. Others may get impatient with us, may be uncomfortable with our need to talk about our loss, but that becomes their problem. They may walk away from us, but isn’t that their loss. We try to be the friend they want, but it is very hard. We hope they understand, but most don’t. Now we need friends who are willing to walk alongside us on our journey no matter how long that journey takes.
Time as benchmarks. When your child dies, you will experience many firsts: the first dinner without them, the first school day without waving goodbye, the first year, the first time we go back to work, the first summer vacation with one less family member; the first birthday after the death, and so on. When we pass these benchmarks, we can breathe a sigh of relief. We’ve made it through. We are surviving, even though it is impossible to believe that we did it or even wanted to.
Time to reflect. We each need moments for ourselves, when we don’t want to be with others or do activities we have always done, when we want to think about this loss that has changed our lives so irrevocably, when we want to reflect on “what now?” This doesn’t mean we are running away; it simply means that to act as if nothing has happened doesn’t work. When we realize we can accept what has happened, we are ready to re-enter the world we know. It will be a different world; we will have new priorities and goals; what was once important to us may no longer matter. But that is okay. Change can be for the good also.
Time is a healer. The intensity we feel at the beginning of our loss will diminish with time and although the pain and hurt will never go away, we learn to deal with it, to live with the unanswered question, “Why me?” “Why my child?” The grief will always be with you and sometimes, unexpectedly, for no good reason, your eyes will become watery and tears may fall as you remember. Don’t be embarrassed. A wave of grief is a common occurrence as it was for me that night last week. It will pass, and your life will continue on with both special moments and private moments locked forever deep in your heart.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
