Olivia was born still – an umbilical cord too tightly wound.
Lucas was two days old when he died from complications.
Greta was only two years old when she was killed by falling debris.
Max was seven when he died from a brain tumor – Jasmina was only six.
Jaden was ten when an asthma attack proved fatal – Donald was 16 when he suffered a similar fate.
Kareem was 15 when he drowned along with his brother Kevin; Peter was 22 when his friend lost control of the car he was driving him home in; Charlie was 23 when his prescription didn’t work with his social life; Mark and Karen were on their honeymoon when their bus ran off a mountain in Nepal; Kelli was 39 when she succumbed to ovarian cancer; Jimmy was 36 when a heart attack took him, and his brother Charlie followed a year later when cancer chose him. Eleanor was 41, Philip was 45, Andrew was 47, and Harvey was 59.
Sudden, unexpected deaths – walking, running, skiing, skating, driving, flying, burning, drinking, drugging, falling, swimming, shooting, stabbing, hanging, jumping; heart attacks, brain tumors, seizures, aneurysms, strokes, organ failures – so many ways to die.
No matter the age, no matter the reason – they all were children – leaving their parents and siblings here to grieve them too early, unexpected deaths. Every day children die. While the world turns for most, for so many parents the world suddenly stops. Losing a child sets survivors on a totally unanticipated life path.
This grief is different. There is so much to deal with even while disbelief is the prism through which everything else must now be seen. In a numb state of initial shock, we go through the motions necessary to shut down a life only partially lived. At last, able to focus on our grief, we discover it is not like any grief we have ever experienced, learned about or lived through with anyone we’ve ever known. We try in vain to understand this mind-bending confusion while the uninitiated around us try to offer well-intended but ultimately useless comfort and solace based on their own limited understanding of loss. Our inability to fathom our new reality and the loss of hope for a future creates even more pain and isolation. Only those who have lived this calamity recognize the future that newly bereaved parents face. The bereaved become aliens in a world where they no longer feel like they belong.
Losing a child is the beginning of an extraordinary grief experience. Because healing doesn’t begin as expected, doubts about one’s own sanity begin to creep in. We begin to think that perhaps we are losing our minds.
Healing seems unattainable. We are reluctant to “let go” as others encourage us to do. Our grief is the most solid thing we have. We hang on for dear life. “Getting over it” is impossible. They say we’ll never be the same; they are right. Frustrated by our inability to describe this unique grief experience, we finally find a measure of relief when we meet others who have lost a child. Without saying a word we feel safe in knowing they understand exactly what we are feeling. They’ve been there – and survived.
Parents who survive their children are chemically rearranged. Like a butterfly’s metamorphosis, we too must confront changes in our personality, our physicality, our perspective, our health, our attitudes, our capabilities, our needs, our desires, and our understanding. Our healthy survival depends on our ability to reinvent ourselves. The future we spent a lifetime envisioning and working towards becomes a black hole; we have no idea where we’re headed and we simply slide toward some unknown destination.
Adjustment to this new reality can take years – the better part of a lifetime. As Jason Greene, Greta’s Dad said, “Children remain dead in ways adults do not.” Eventually, we do get over other inevitable losses. Like a stone in our pocket, we carry this loss for always.
It takes a very long time to care about anything again. But hope does live – in our world hope is The Compassionate Friends.
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Pushing 10 years and a day doesn’t go by without thinking about the day my son was here and healthy. Next day, he got his wings. I have learned to appreciate that he was a gift God gave me for 25 years and I am forever grateful even as I am crying as I type this. Loosing a child is a unique grief that only the family can understand. My heart breaks for the parents whenever I hear about a new loss as they are just starting this rough ride
I lost my daughter, Angela, 8 1/2 years ago to a car accident. She was not only my daughter but also my best friend. We would talk everyday 2 to 3 times. She was only 33, married, a mother to a 5 year old daughter and a 2 year old son and a wonderful husband. Miss her so much.
This is one of the best articles I have ever read since my only son left in 2004. And I have read a lot! I even learned something new.
Thank you
I know it isn’t the same, but I lost 2 children through miscarriage. I carried one 3 months and the other 4 months. I never got to hold them, play with them, or watch them grow. They were still part of me and I think of them to this day even though it has been over 30 years. We have lost 3 nieces and their parents when the whole family was shot. This happened in 1989 and still affects us to this day. Each has effected us differently. Each has changed me. I turn to God for strength and he has brought me through.
This helped me in a weird way I guess, I lost my 17 yr old son 12-27/18 in accident and my wife and daughter and I are all in some sort of trance trying to navigate daily life but this shed at least some light! I am not sure how people do it but have to carry on for them
We lost our dear son – 21 – just two weeks ago. It does not seem real . Cannot fathom that we will never see his handsome face again. I cannot even believe I am writing these words…