I finally went to a
grief support group for parents who have lost children. I went to support a
friend who recently lost her son. I'm not sure I would've gone except that when
I was in her shoes, four years ago, I wish I would've had a friend to go with
me. Losing a child is the loneliest, most desolate journey a person can take
and the only people who can come close to appreciating it are those who share
the experience.
The meeting was a local chapter of The CompassionateFriends, an organization solely dedicated to providing support for those who
have lost children, grandchildren or siblings. The facilitator was a tall
gentleman who had lost his 17 year old son eight years ago. He opened the
meeting by saying that dues to belong to the club are more than anyone would
ever want to pay. Well, he couldn't be more correct: no one wants to belong to
this group.
The group of incredible survivors included parents whose
children had been killed by drunk drivers, murdered, accidental overdose,
alcoholism, suicide and freak accidents. The children's ages ranged from 6-38
years old. When hearing the stories, I had a visceral reaction to being part of
this "club," but was also humbled by the greatness of these mothers
and fathers.
Most of what I share in this article came from this meeting,
but also from my own experience of having lost a child and being four years
into that lifelong journey of healing from deep grief. The following five tips
can be your compass to help you navigate how to give support to grieving
parents on a sacred journey they never wanted to take.
1.
Remember our children.
The loss of children is a pain all bereaved parents share,
and it is a degree of suffering that is impossible to grasp without
experiencing it first hand. Often, when we know someone else is experiencing
grief, our discomfort keeps us from approaching it head on. But we want the
world to remember our child or children, no matter how young or old our child
was.
If you see something that reminds you of my child, tell me.
If you are reminded at the holidays or on his birthday that I am missing my
son, please tell me you remember him. And when I speak his name or relive
memories relive them with me, don't shrink away. If you never met my son, don't
be afraid to ask about him. One of my greatest joys is talking about Brandon.
2.
Accept that you can't "fix" us.
An out-of-order death such as child loss breaks a person
(especially a parent) in a way that is not fixable or solvable — ever! We will
learn to pick up the pieces and move forward, but our lives will never be the
same.
Every grieving parent must find a way to continue to live
with loss, and it's a solitary journey. We appreciate your support and hope you
can be patient with us as we find our way.
Please: don't tell us it's time to get back to life, that's
it's been long enough, or that time heals all wounds. We welcome your support
and love, and we know sometimes it hard to watch, but our sense of brokenness
isn't going to go away. It is something to observe, recognize, accept.
3. Know
that there are at least two days a year we need a time out.
We still count birthdays and fantasize what our child would
be like if he/she were still living. Birthdays are especially hard for us. Our
hearts ache to celebrate our child's arrival into this world, but we are left
becoming intensely aware of the hole in our hearts instead. Some parents create
rituals or have parties while others prefer solitude. Either way, we are likely
going to need time to process the marking of another year without our child.
Then there's the anniversary of the date our child became an
angel. This is a remarkable process similar to a parent of a newborn, first
counting the days, then months then the one year anniversary, marking the time
on the other side of that crevasse in our lives.
No matter how many years go by, the anniversary date of when
our child died brings back deeply emotional memories and painful feelings
(particularly if there is trauma associated with the child's death). The days
leading up to that day can feel like impending doom or like it's hard to
breathe. We may or may not share with you what's happening.
This is where the process of remembrance will help. If you
have heard me speak of my child or supported me in remembering him/her, you
will be able to put the pieces together and know when these tough days are
approaching.
4.
Realize that we struggle every day with happiness.
It's an ongoing battle to balance the pain and guilt of
outliving your child with the desire to live in a way that honors them and
their time on this earth.
I remember going on a family cruise eighteen months after
Brandon died. On the first day, I stood at the back of the ship and bawled that
I wasn't sharing this experience with him. Then I had to steady myself, and
recognize that I was also creating memories with my surviving sons, and
enjoying the time with them in the present moment.
As bereaved parents, we are constantly balancing holding
grief in one hand and a happy life after loss in the other. You might observe
this when you are with us at a wedding, graduation or other milestone
celebration. Don't walk away — witness it with us and be part of our process.
5.
Accept the fact that our loss might make you uncomfortable.
Our loss is unnatural, out-of-order; it challenges your
sense of safety. You may not know what to say or do, and you're afraid you
might make us lose it. We've learned all of this as part of what we're learning
about grief.
We will never forget our child. And in fact, our loss is
always right under the surface of other emotions, even happiness. We would
rather lose it because you spoke his/her name and remembered our child, than
try and shield ourselves from the pain and live in denial.
The stronger and deeper
the love the more grief will be created on the other side. Consider it a sacred
opportunity to stand shoulder to shoulder with someone who have endured one of
life's most frightening events. Rise up with us.
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Stocksy Source : www.mindbodygreen.com