Has anyone ever wondered what it is like to lose a child? Not that you sit around thinking about it but when you hear someone has lost a child.. have you ever wondered "what if that was me,what if that was my child, what would it feel like..etc?" I can tell you that it is probably a million times worse than you can imagine. When I was pregnant and heard that there was a chance that Lily may not make it.. I had to face that fear and think about.. I can tell you.. as bad as I thought it would be.. it is soooooo much worse. Please read...
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This is my path.
It was not a path of my choice, but it is a path I must walk mindfully with intention. It is a journey through grief that takes time. Every cell in my body aches and longs to be with my beloved child. I may be impatient, distracted, frustrating, and unfocused. I may get angry more easily, or I may seem hopeless. I will shed many, many, many tears. I won’t smile as often as my old self. Smiling hurts now. Most everything hurts some days, even breathing. But please, just sit beside me. Say nothing. Do not offer a cure. Or a pill, or a word, or a potion.
Witness my suffering and don't turn away from me.
Please be gentle with me.
Please, self, be gentle with me, too.
I will not ever "get over it" so please don’t urge me down that path.
Even if it seems like I am having a good day, maybe I am even able to smile for a moment, the pain is just beneath the surface of my skin. Some days, I feel paralyzed. My chest has a nearly constant sinking pain and sometimes I feel as if I will explode from the grief. This is affecting me as a woman, a mother, a human being. It affects every aspect of me: spiritually, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I barely recognize myself in the mirror anymore.
Remember that grief is as personal to each individual as a fingerprint. Don't tell me how I should or shouldn’t be doing it or that I should or shouldn’t “feel better by now.” Don't tell me what's right or wrong. I'm doing it my way, in my time. If I am to survive this, I must do what is best for me.
Surviving this means seeing life’s meaning change and evolve. What I knew to be true or absolute or real or fair about the world has been challenged so I'm finding my way, moment-to-moment in this new place. Things that once seemed important to me are barely thoughts any longer. I notice life's suffering more- hungry children, the homeless and the destitute, a mother’s harsh voice toward her young child or by an elderly person struggling with the door.
So many things I struggle to understand.
Don’t tell me that “God has a plan” for me. This, my friend, is between me and my God.
Those platitudes seem far too easy to slip from the mouths of those who tuck their own child into a safe, warm bed at night: Can you begin to imagine your own child, flesh of your flesh, lying lifeless in a casket, when “goodbye” means you’ll never see them on this Earth again? Grieving mothers- and fathers- and grandparents- and siblings won’t wake up one day with everything ’okay’ and life back to normal. I have a new normal now.
Oh, perhaps as time passes, I will discover new meanings and insights about what my child’s death means to me. Perhaps, one day, when I am very, very old, I will say that time has truly helped to heal my broken heart. But always remember that not a second of any minute of any hour of any day passes when I am not aware of the presence of the absence, no matter how many years lurk over my shoulder.
Love never dies.
By Dr Joanne Caciatore
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