The Grief Within

Last Updated: 5/31/2007

THE GRIEF WITHIN

"My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul"

- William Shakespeare

I have an online grief support group now called Live To Remember. It is a work in progress but I invite you to visit and share there.

I have lost many people in my life but have found no loss is more painful than losing a child. We lost a baby during a pregnancy and a son at age 14. While many think that a pregnancy loss is not really losing a child, we did not feel that way and took it very hard. Losing our son later was totally heart-breaking, too. A few years have passed, though, and, while the pain never leaves you, it does soften with time. One thing that helped me greatly was meeting others online who had lost a child and talking to them as only someone who has been through the same experience truly understands. The other thing was writing out my feelings. I highly recommend it even if you don't feel you write very well. The important thing is to get the feelings out. Most of what I will share here are lessons I have learned from dealing with my own feelings of grief. I have a grief support group on MSN for people who have experienced the loss of a child in their life. If you are interested in more information please feel free to email me.

Traveling the Road of Grief

Katrina

9/11

Of Peace and Goodbye

Open Windows/Open Doors

The Table

Grief Cannot Be Escaped

Split Personalities

Loss of Innocence

Does God Answer YOUR Prayers?

Traveling the Road of Grief

The post on the site talked about a cat. It was dangerously ill and the owner was upset and worried she would love her beloved pet. Having had pets for years and considering them a dear part of my family, I knew how she felt and could completely empathize with her. Another person read the post along with the subsequent sympathetic responses and had a far different reaction. This person felt that it was ridiculous to get that worked up over a house pet when there are so many worse things in life. The example given was when this individual had had to spend time comforting a young dying mother.

Certainly I don’t argue that this is of far greater consequence, however, our reaction to these situations is based solely upon our life experience with grief up to that point. For instance, as I was growing up the only people I knew who had died were two uncles, both of whom I really didn’t know. Their deaths did not affect me in any major way and I felt no sadness or grief other than what I felt for both my parents each losing a brother.

When I was first married we were given a dog that not only had the sweetest personality but was also absolutely gorgeous. Neighborhood children turned her loose one day and she was hit by a car. She died during surgery and I was devastated. I knew my reaction was out of proportion with the loss but I couldn’t help it. I had never experienced grief before and it completely swept me away. Now, many years later, having lost my father, a son and many other loved ones, not to mention many more pets, I take their death a little more in stride. Certainly I cry and mourn for them but I don’t grieve the way I have for the people I have lost in my life.

And, should any of my pets take ill, I would be worried and sad, too. Having strong feelings for our pets doesn’t take away from our feelings towards people. There is nothing wrong with having a strong emotional attachment such that it causes you to feel strong emotions. One does detract from the other. In fact, I think fostering a sense of compassion towards the creatures God put here for our benefit only helps nurture the same feelings towards our fellow man. We deal with them, we learn from them, we grow with them.

I was having a conversation recently with a friend about all our pets. I mentioned the two dogs we have lost in recent times and she asked me how my children dealt with the deaths of our pets. I told her that they cried and mourned but I also said I think that is one of the positive aspects of pet owning. They have had to say goodbye to so many over the years and they know that death is part of life. I would hope that the lesson they take from this is that the love and enjoyment they find with our pets is a good memory they will always carry with them. And that life continues on for those of us still here. I know they have learned about not knowing what tomorrow will bring and cherishing the time they have with both pets and people. It isn’t an easy lesson but a very important one that helps us deal with the losses that we will face as we grow older.

Since my children have also lost a grandfather, grandmother, a cousin and a brother, they have seen death at its worst. They know the difference between losing a pet and losing a family member or friend. They also know that pets do not have the same life span a person has and that having pets means you will eventually have to say goodbye to them. Yet they all plan to have pets in their households as adults and they all still lavish our pets with love and attention.

Love is a risk. What can be given can be taken away and that hurts. Learning this lesson slowly with cats, dogs and other pets is a far less traumatic thing than losing a person abruptly and without prior experience with the pain of loss. And keeping that feeling of compassion for the lesser creatures doesn’t preclude an understanding that losing a human life can be far more tragic. No, I believe it fosters that very compassion.

Yes, certainly there are levels of tragedy in our lives. Obviously I would far rather lose one of our pets than another of my children. That does not mean, however, that I won’t worry over the cats and dogs when they are ill, or mourn for them when they die. I know the difference and I will continue to show my feelings without the worry that I look as if I am taking their loss so seriously that it overshadows far greater tragedies. I am entitled to my sadness and my emotions as are we all.

One thing that has changed over the years is that the loss of things no longer upsets me. A car accident, a broken heirloom, a lost memento – these are material goods that we treasure yet should not give the same importance as we would our friends and family members. Whether replaceable or not, they are still just things. They simply do not matter. I really like having reached this place in my life because I feel free from that worry about material goods. I may feel a twinge of regret when something is broken or lost but it is quickly overshadowed by a quick thought that its loss has not, in any way, affected the people I love.

We live, we love, we lose – the cycle of life goes on. We should not judge others by how they react to this cycle but rather be there for them as they struggle to understand, and deal with, the strong emotions that accompany their journey. Rather than feeling derision for others when they react strongly to the loss of a pet or a bad situation in their lives, we should feel pity because, if this is the worst thing they have had to deal with in their lives, they have a big bump ahead of them. At some point they will lose someone close to them and it is such a painful lesson. Let us not presume to feel we know better or look down our noses at these people. Rather, let us be there for them to help them when real tragedy does strike because, those of us who have faced it, know that it is the toughest hurdle we will ever face in our mortal lives.

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Katrina

Like everyone else, I have been glued to my TV or computer monitor the last few days watching the devastating effects of Hurricane Katrina. The horror laid before our eyes is unimaginable and painful in the extreme to see. We feel helpless to do anything other than rant about the ineffectuality of our government at handling a disaster of this proportion. Sending a check, gathering some clothing, toiletries or bottled water just isn't enough at times like these. But, in the end, it is pretty much all most of us can do. So many of us are in the same boat as those who remained behind. We eagerly wait for the end of that two week period when the paycheck comes in and we breathe a sigh of relief that, once again, we have the means to buy gas, food, clothing - the necessities. We are already paying the taxes that will fund the huge amounts of money Bush is asking for to use as emergency funding. We are already paying the gigantic prices at the gas pumps. And now we are being asked to pull even more money out of our pockets to send to the Red Cross. It isn't that I begrudge the people affected by the disaster the money as we certainly can forego certain things to come up with it but rather that it seems we are being asked to pay for it many times over. At this time we need to recuperate the money we have put into foreign aid. The money we ALREADY paid in taxes that went out our country's doors to help the rest of the world. It is time for payback. OK, that is as far as I am going to go at this point. I would, however, like to add something I wrote in reference to a very wonderful column written after 9/11. I think it has as much to do with what is happening now as it did at the time with the death toll rising daily.

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9/11

This can also be found at:

http://www.therealmartha.com/WARWhatisAm/

From Laurie, "I am not sure if you read this column from Leonard Pitts that was written right after Sept. 11. It was so great and moved me to answer him so I sent a letter to him by snail mail. Anyway, I thought you would, well, I don't want to say enjoy exactly, but find of interest ... It seemed to kind of go with what you mailed about being an American."

We'll Go Forward from This Moment

It's my job to have something to say. They pay me to provide words that help make sense of that which troubles the American soul. But in this moment of airless shock when hot tears sting disbelieving eyes, the only thing I can find to say, the only words that seem to fit, must be addressed to the unknown author of this suffering.

You monster. You beast. You unspeakable bastard.

What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's attack on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we would learn? Whatever it was, please know that you failed.

Did you want us to respect your cause? You just damned your cause.

Did you want to make us fear? You just steeled our resolve.

Did you want to tear us apart? You have only brought us together.

Let me tell you about my people. We are a vast and quarrelsome family, a family rent by racial, social, political and class division, but a family nonetheless. We're frivolous, yes, capable of expending tremendous emotional energy on pop cultural minutiae -- a singer's revealing dress, a ball team's misfortune, a cartoon mouse. We're wealthy, too, spoiled by the ready availability of trinkets and material goods, and maybe because of that, we walk through life with a certain sense of blithe entitlement. We are fundamentally decent, though -- peace-loving and compassionate. We struggle to know the right thing and to do it. And we are, the overwhelming majority of us, people of faith, believers in a just and loving God.

Some people - you, perhaps - think that any or all of this makes us weak. You're mistaken. We are not weak. Indeed, we are strong in ways that cannot be measured by arsenals.

Yes, we're in pain now. We are in mourning and we are in shock. We're still grappling with the unreality of the awful thing you did, still working to make ourselves understand that this isn't a special effect from some Hollywood blockbuster, isn't the plot development from a Tom Clancy novel. Both in terms of the awful scope of their ambition and the probable final death toll, your attacks are likely to go down as the worst acts of terrorism in the history of the United States and, probably, the history of the world.

You've bloodied us as we have never been bloodied before. But there's a gulf of difference between making us bloody and making us fall. This is the lesson Japan was taught to its bitter sorrow the last time anyone hit us this hard, the last time anyone brought us such abrupt and monumental pain. When roused, we are righteous in our outrage, terrible in our force.

When provoked by this level of barbarism, we will bear any suffering, pay any cost, go to any length, in the pursuit of justice. I tell you this without fear of contradiction. I know my people, as you, I think, do not. What I know reassures me. It also causes me to tremble with dread of the future.

In the days to come, there will be recrimination and accusation, fingers pointing to determine whose failure allowed this to happen and what can be done to prevent it from happening again. There will be heightened security, misguided talk of revoking basic freedoms. We'll go forward from this moment sobered, chastened, sad.

But determined, too. Unimaginably determined.

You see, the steel in us is not always readily apparent. That aspect of our character is seldom understood by people who don't know us well. On this day, the family's bickering is put on hold. As Americans we will weep, as Americans we will mourn, and as Americans, we will rise in defense of all that we cherish.

So I ask again: What was it you hoped to teach us? It occurs to me that maybe you just wanted us to know the depths of your hatred. If that's the case, consider the message received. And take this message in exchange: You don't know my people. You don't know what we're capable of. You don't know what you just started.

But you're about to learn.

Dear Mr. Pitts,
Your column was forwarded to me by a friend who lives near the NY area. She did not lose anyone herself but had friends there and some of them wait to hear about family members. I apologize for the length but consider it the drawback for having written such a wonderful column.

Your words made me cry all over again. There are so many times in the past years that my husband and I have decried the politics of our nation. We even, jokingly, spoke of moving to another country or at least a mountaintop where we would be far from the whole crazy world. And I know we aren't the only ones ... What was always in the back of my mind, at those times, though, was that we had the ability, and the right, we had the freedom to speak in this manner. And that alone, Mr. Pitts, kept me right here where my children can be raised as I see fit.

Our very diversity and argumentativeness is what makes us so very special. Have you ever just sat at a mall and engaged in some people-watching? It makes me smile to do so. And, when my foreign e-mail penpals attempt to establish what my skin "complexion" is, I again smile. I tell them that here we are all Americans but our backgrounds are so complex. My children are of French heritage, and German, and Norwegian with a touch of Native American thrown in just for fun. My husband's family has long since lost touch with their faraway roots. They are now just, well, Americans.

I live in Minnesota. Two years ago my family rented a 34-foot RV and started out to explore a very small part of our country. I had never had the opportunity to travel and one of the things I learned was that I could do this for years and never begin to touch all of what makes up this huge country. Not just the main attractions we all go to see, although those were magnificent enough. Niagara Falls alone was so far beyond anything in my imagination that I will remember it for the rest of my life. But I was humbled, truly humbled, when we reached Boston. We proceeded on foot along the Freedom Trail and we went into an old cemetery where one of the stones still shows signs of musket balls shot at it by the British. I looked at the dates on the stones in awe, because our state has nothing to compare. We are babies next to these colonies. And it came home to me for the first time just what it took to make this country what it is now. I always hated history but that is because I never understood it. And there, at the age of 41, I finally got my biggest history lesson of all.

One of my sons says he regrets our decision to not go into New York City at that time. There was just far too much to see and we sighed as we passed the turnoffs knowing there just wasn't time to accomplish everything in the guidebooks. And now, along with so many, many other Americans, we will never see the sight of those twin buildings towering over their neighbors and that is sad. But we are so immense and so full of resources here that this will not drag us down. There are many more wonderful things in our country and we will create even more in the future. We will always be a leader of the world. Destroying two major buildings has not destroyed that.

Five years ago we lost a son under tragic circumstances. I have learned so much from that experience such as you don't "get over it." This is not a bad case of the flu that simply goes away with time. This is part of your heart being ripped out forever. I remember very, very vividly sitting with the funeral director choosing a casket for my freckle-faced, 14-year-old son who should have been sitting there with me with his huge blue eyes and his enormous grin. Funny, I called him my "All American Boy." The rituals assigned to our good-byes in this country are either designed to keep us busy or designed to make us crazy. I am not sure which to this day.All I know is that there were so many decisions to be made: what clothes he would wear (his Boy Scout uniform), what food to offer, what to have on the memorial booklet, what cemetery to use and then which plot to purchase, what songs to sing at the service, etc., etc., etc. It went on and on until I could have screamed. I remember after the funeral finding myself out in my yard picking up small bits of garbage from the grass that the lawnmower had pulverized. My house, my home, my sanctuary, was full of all these people and I wanted to just be alone. And I wanted my son back.Shawn will never be coming home again and so, on Tuesday, and ever since then tears have streamed down my face ceaselessly because I know, firsthand, what lies before all these families. And I know, months and years from now, while we all go back to our lives, when the rubble is cleared and this is no more than a tragic page in the history books, there will be thousands of my fellow Americans who will be still missing that little part of their hearts. They will smile at you and say, "Oh, just fine," when asked how they are. They will grocery shop, clean their houses, go to work, and take in an occasional movie. But, they will never be "fine" again.Late at night, when you are sleeping, they will be sitting in chairs hugging photos to their chests sobbing unrestrainedly. Maybe this is a good time for our society to learn that there is never a time limit on grief. There are no rights or wrongs here. And it never, ever goes away. And this, is why I can't stop crying. For, because of this misplaced hatred, so many, many people have joined the ranks of the bereaved. And so, months and years from now, don't ask that question. Just know they still hurt and they don't forget. Don't be afraid to bring up the name of the dead. We want to talk about them because, in this small way, they live on.

Remember anniversary dates - for the rest of their lives because you can be sure that they do. And don't ever be afraid of making them cry and remember. So many times I have heard that - I didn't want to upset you. Hey, I am already upset! I am already depressed. I am already sad and I already cry. I just no longer do it so publicly. Nothing is better now than to share that with a caring person even years down the road.

I already know those who died are at peace. It is for those who must live on that I grieve. My prayers are now that each and every one of those left behind are lucky enough to find caring, supporting people to help them through this, not just now, not just for the next few weeks, but for the rest of their lives ...

Sincerely,
L.
Minnesota resident and proud citizen of the USA

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Of Peace and Goodbye

Most books on the subject of grief are quick to assure you that what you are feeling is "normal" - nothing to be embarrassed about, frightened of, or worried concerning. I disagree. I would qualify that MOST of what you are feeling is probably normal. I have come across, however, far too many people who wallow in their grief, enjoying the pity and attention they receive, to make a true effort to work through these feelings. Therefore I would say that in all likelihood, what you are feeling is normal but, if it is at the point where how you feel is affecting other family members in a negative manner, perhaps you need to reevaluate how you are coping with the death of your loved one and make some changes.

One of the ways we can use to measure our progress in dealing with a death in our lives is to sit back and evaluate our feelings now and again. Our initial reaction to death will be emotional and extreme. We are quite adamant in expressing our feelings and how we handle situations at that time, therefore it is a good idea NOT to do anything permanent that we may regret later when we have calmed down. It is also okay for us to look at ourselves again and possibly let ourselves "off the hook" so to speak. This is particularly true in cases of suicide or accidents which happen at home. We tend to be harder on ourselves, and on God, than anyone else will be.

I say this having had firsthand experience in this situation. My mind is so clear concerning those first days after our son, Shawn, died. Clear and very opinionated and this colored the way I handled my grief for quite some time afterwards. I found it difficult to find peace feeling the way I did and I definitely was not in a forgiving mood towards God at that point.

You see, Shawn died at home on a bright sunny spring day. Geordin who had turned two just days earlier, and I were the only other family members present at the time. Bill had gone off to work hours earlier and the other boys had left for school. The details of that morning are etched into my mind but I speak of them only when I am trying to muddle through what I came away with on that awful day: the post traumatic stress syndromethat makes my heart race wildly, the tears that spring instantly to my eyes, and the sick feeling that invades my stomach whenever I think of that time or when I am confronted by emergency lights and sirens.

What I am speaking of here is purely emotional, gut instinctual reactions. From the first, right after we were told that Shawn was gone, I felt anger and I felt I had been treated unfairly. My home is my workplace, my nest, my haven, my refuge.How dare God let Shawn die here? Why was I alone left to deal with this? If he had to die, why couldn't it have happened elsewhere? I thought of a dozen different scenarios outside our home which could have just as easily been the last place where Shawn was alive on this earth. What was wrong with them? Of all the places on earth, why was our home, our living room, our sofa, for Pete's sake, where our son took his last breath? And why me? Why was I alone here? I had my hands full with an active two year old - wasn't that enough to ask of me? Maybe it was a selfish wayto think, but I didn't voice these thoughts to anyone. They were between God and me. I figured He had some explaining to do here. I felt very abused and picked on. The entire rest of the family got off without having to handle these "extras" so why me? What had I done that was so terrible that I warranted extra punishment in this manner? It just didn't seem right to me and I was angry, damn angry.

That anger carried me through a lot of tears and a lot of time. It helped get me going in the morning and it helped keep me doing what needed to be done to keep our family going. The everyday tasks of shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry and helping with homework required energy - that energy came from the anger I generated. That is why I say not all that we feel is normal or acceptable after we lose a loved family member. But sometimes it is what is needed to get us to a better place where we can begin to deal with the other emotions we set aside for a time. We can take our thoughts and feelings out a bit more leisurely and sort through them with more calm and peace than we would have had earlier in our grief.

I felt such serenity come to me one day quite a long time after Shawn's death. I was lying on the sofa and had begun to relax. As sometimes happens, my entire body relaxed while my mind was still clear. My eyes were shut tight to the light of the afternoon but I could hear the household noises continuing around me. The phone rang in another part of the house, one of the kids had a radio playing, as usual in our house, two of the boys were bickering good-naturedly, Geordie was babbling in toddler-speak, and Bill was calling for one of our sons. These are the sounds of my family - familiar, continuous, loud, and, oddly enough, I found them comforting. They meant everyone was home, everyone was well, and everyone was safe. The sounds wrapped themselves around me like a soft piece of flannel and I drifted off asleep feeling warm and good deep inside my heart.

When I woke later I remembered how I had felt just before I fell asleep and I had a revelation at that moment for I realized right then that that was what Shawn had heard just before he took his last breath. No matter how sick he felt or if he was scared or despite any other bad emotions he may have been experiencing, if any, he still was surrounded by the sounds of our home which translate into nurturing love. I thought about what might have been going through his mind if he was in a hospital or a bus or at school or any one of the scenarios I had come up with where he could have spent his last minutes. And I realized that there was only one place where he could have felt the most security and love and safety and that was right here with me.

For some reason, my boys have this way overblown idea of their mom as a sort of medical consultant. Mom, what do I do about this? Mom, how do I handle that? They think I know it all and, for the most part, I have had to deal with just about every ordinary ailment they have experienced. They aren't familiar with the mom who was screaming inside that day when she found their brother not breathing. The mom who phoned 911 and started CPR was the one they know. The one who was calm and spoke clearly on the phone.The one who never thought she could remember the CPR but who did it just as it was taught in the refresher classes. Not the one who grabbed the phone and screamed where is that damned ambulance? The point of this is that they trust me to take care of them in every situation and this was no different than any other. I am sure Shawn drifted off thinking Mom was there doing everything she could to help him. I am sure he felt safe and cared for as he was lying there on the sofa. I had covered him up with a blanket, his baby brother was babbling to himself as he sat in the high chair eating his early lunch, I was talking on the phone on and off, the radio was playing in the background, and I believe Shawn just drifted off to heaven, as quietly and sweetly as he had lived his life.

And so I am no longer angry. Now that I have had time to think about it a bit more rationally and less emotionally, I see the situation in a completely different light. Where I was once angry, now I am thankful. Where I once felt put upon, now I feel I have received a gift. I didn't want my son to die. I would give anything, anything, to have him back with us. The only thing I wish now is that I had known what was happening so I could have said one last goodbye, one last I love you. But, if our loved ones are still with us and can hear us, he has heard this many, many times since he died.

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"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us."

- Helen Keller (1880 - 1968)

Open Windows/Open Doors

Most all of us have seen the saying about God never closing a door without opening a window. I am not sure where this saying came from but I did run across the one above in my search. I thought this one far better served what I planned to write about here because, as grieving parents, we very often DO look far too long at the “closed door.” We can’t be blamed for this for it is an impossibly overwhelming task to continue on with our lives when we have had to say goodbye to a child. Especially in the early days soon after the death the future looms dark and huge over our heads seeming to stretch out forever. For those of us who believe in life after death we do see an end yet how far away it can seem. Almost every grieving parent I have talked to has expressed a desire to “be with their child now” even though they were never suicidal types previously. So how do we continue on if we have another forty or fifty years ahead of us provided we live a full, long life into old age?

Depending on the people who have been in our lives is seldom an answer. They tend to fall into two categories: those who feel ignoring the entire situation is either the easiest way for them to handle it or best for the grieving parent in their uninformed opinion and those who try to make us feel better by explaining the whole thing away. God must have wanted your child for a reason, he/she is in a better place, and even that we are being punished for something. The latter are far more vocal and tend to also make sure we know when it is time to “move on” and “find closure” and “get over it.” As if death is a case of the flu and we are merely biding our time until we are well.

A good first move is to seek out other parents who have lost a child. While The Compassionate Friends is a very well known support group created for just that purpose there are many, many more options so that almost everyone should be able to find a group they feel comfortable within. Churches, hospitals and funeral homes are all places that often offer services in the form of support groups. The atmosphere and beliefs of the other attendants may vary from group to group so it is unfortunately sometimes necessary to visit each one at least once.

Books, pamphlets and articles can offer great insight into how other grieving families have dealt with their pain. Poetry is a frequently used and widely shared outlet for the dark emotions that accompany grief. Ideas are offered for various methods of honoring the dead that can be a very comforting way to keep their memory alive. Suggestions on ways of handling the anniversary dates, birthdays, holidays and family get-togethers are usually included in grief books. While comparing experiences may sound morbid it is somehow a very consoling experience to learn others have trod the path before you. There is relief in knowing you are not the only person to feel this way. Others have done so before and managed to go on with their lives. Reading how they accomplished this encourages us in a manner no counseling can match.

Counseling, however, can also play a major part in getting a deeply depressed person back on their feet. Obviously a parent who has lost a child to death will be depressed. How long it lasts and who and what it affects is the key to knowing when to ask for help. There is no time limit on grief and truthfully it will never be gone from your life. It does ease in its sharpness and becomes a familiar if unwanted companion for the rest of our lives. It is always there, sometimes in the way, and sometimes unnoticed. When it takes over your life, though, and the months stretch into years with no change counseling may be necessary to get back to some semblance of normalcy. Suicidal thoughts, drinking too much, over using tranquilizers or sleeping pills, sleeping too much or too little are some of the signs to look for which indicate a problem which requires help. When a person’s feelings of grief are so overwhelming that they begin to cause marital problems, neglect of other children, job issues or withdrawal from all family and friends then getting counseling may be in order. There is nothing wrong with asking for help with this. We are ill-equipped to cope with this and our society is not one which is supportive and understanding.

Just a quick note on the use of antidepressant drugs: quite often these will be a tool a therapist/doctor will believe to be helpful in these cases. A pet peeve of mine is the prevalent idea in our society that these are “happy pills” which gives an unnatural boost to lift a person’s spirits. This is NOT the case. In fact, most antidepressants will not even begin to help until after several weeks of use. It is believed they work by aiding the natural chemicals which promote well-being within our brains to function better. The person taking an antidepressant which works well for them will find what happens is that they begin to feel closer to normal. They will respond in a normal manner to everyday life rather than in the negative manner a deeply depressed person will feel. They are not addictive although they do have various side effects. It is often necessary to try several before finding one that works best with your own body chemistry. They are NOT something that should be perceived as a “crutch” for a weak person or anything to be embarrassed about using. I firmly believe a person who uses antidepressants along with counseling is, in fact, a very strong person with a will to live their life to the fullest. However, as with any prescription medication, it is always an excellent idea to research the drug so as to make a responsible, well informed decision concerning its use.

An unexpected resource for help and comfort of the grief-stricken has been the Internet. Hundreds, probably thousands, of memorial sites have arisen online along with many support sites for grief of every type. Some are major sites open to all while others are privately held. There again a person will probably find it necessary to visit many before finding the right “fit” for them. Advantages of these groups are that they offer privacy and a variety of ways to obtain help. Information is available along with personal accounts. Bulletin boards and chat rooms offer a more personal method of visiting with other grieving family members. Help is available to learn to create a memorial website of your own which has proved to be a very therapeutic way to deal with your grief while carrying on the memory of your child.

Coming back to the door quote, how we deal with the remainder of our lives here on earth is in large part up to us. Attitude and state of mind can make an enormous difference in how the remainder of our lives play out. While no one would EVER choose this to happen we have no control over that. What has happened has happened. If we believe that there is are other doors or windows which open after one closes then we have something positive to look for in our lives. Some of the things which can occur after the death of a family member would be gaining a new closeness with family and friends, changing our lives for the better by perhaps becoming a better parent, spouse or friend, making a difference in the world by taking on issues which pertain to the death, and finding a new purpose in our existence. Sometimes we need to really search to find those doors or windows. That can be difficult as we may feel we are not being loyal to the memory of that child. Deep down it may seem as if we are approving the loss by seeing the positive aspects of the situation. Acknowledging to yourself that no matter HOW great those positive aspects are you would give them all up in a second to have your child back will help get past that, though. And then take it one step further and realize that this is not going to happen. Look upon these as a gift that is there to help you during an unbearably difficult time.

One of the things I see as a window opening in my life is meeting other grieving parents. Not only are they able to understand me so I have an outlet to vent my pain and frustrations but they are almost always more compassionate and loving than other people in my life. Somehow going through this makes us understand that life can be cut short and we need to reach out to each other. When we type in “love you” at the end of our conversations over the computer I realize I truly DO love these people. They are not selfish in their grief; they have enough room for me in their lives, too. Some of them will come into my life briefly and others I know are there for the duration but they are all windows. They give me the courage to get up each day and go on with my life. They hold their hands out to me on the darkest of days and help lift me to my feet again. Without them, the road ahead would be much more rocky and for that I am grateful.

One thing I found when my son first died was that I needed to have hope. I needed to know that what I felt right then would go away. If someone had told me it never will right then I think I would have pulled the covers over my head and given up. It really isn’t possible to explain the open doors because not only do you not believe it but you just really don’t care right then. I can’t explain this any more than we can explain to someone who has never lost a child what it feels like. But I do offer hope. Yes, the pain remains but you learn to cope with it and it does lessen in intensity. You learn what are triggers to painful memories and what days are going to be the most difficult and how to cope with those memories and days. And you learn to appreciate the open doors and windows. You learn life does continue, not as it did but as a new life. There is hope.

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The Table

You hear about so many families nowadays that can’t seem to manage to find time to have a meal with all the members there. Our modern society encourages evenings to be full and busy with PTO meetings, teacher conferences, going to the health club, Scout meetings, church groups, and on and on. Remember the old sitcoms where mom was home all day and dad went to the office? How many scenes were set at the dinner table where the family conversed, laughed, argued and shared the day? My personal favorite was The Waltons. I loved seeing that big old table full of children passing food, filling plates, arguing good-naturedly and everyone talking at once. I guess that became a symbol to me of family togetherness.

Long ago I attended a sale where a harvest table was up for auction. It was wonderful it could be extended farther than any other table I had ever seen. I fell in love with it as thoughts of future meals with my future family went through my mind. Years would pass and I could see my children returning with their children and spouses as we added enough leaves to accommodate the entire group. When I was younger we had an adult table and a children’s table. I vowed that would never happen in my home!

I never saw another table like that one but I had this fixation with tables in general. I loved going to browse but few of them passed my criteria: holding my whole family. Silly when we only had one child at that point but I had my vision to hold onto. Years passed and we lost one baby and my vision dimmed for a time, especially when the doctor told me my chances of having another child were far less. But I started to learn what made my body tick and eventually we welcomed another son to our family. Another few years passed and still I looked in the newspapers for tables, garage sales and stores. It was mostly window shopping as there never seemed to be enough money for things like new furniture but I had no doubt that one day we would have my table! In the meantime we had a hand-me-down set from an uncle that just fit our cozy family of four.

Suddenly fate stepped brought two more boys into our lives and all of a sudden we were a family of six. I could see my dream now coming true and I would smile thinking of that full table far in the future. I had become a great cook, well known in my family for putting on huge holiday meals with everything made from scratch. I enjoyed the preparations but my greatest joy was sitting at the table with my whole family. We tried to avoid scolding, arguing or anything of that nature during meal times. We mostly laughed, joked, and, of course, ate. Four boys could eat an enormous amount of food but I didn’t mind. I loved seeing them shovel the food in as if they were starving!

The table for four obviously had to go and I longingly thought of the harvest table. The reality of doubling our offspring meant even more severe budgeting, though, so I bargain hunted until I found a table for six within our price range. It was an extremely cheap piece of furniture and I hated it. For holidays we would put a card table at the end but we were always packed in like sardines. Still the food and laughter were the same no matter what was under the plates and so I told myself to not be so greedy.

It is very clear that I am not a morning person. I not only do not like rising early but I am not a breakfast person, either! My husband, however, is one of those people who will arise wide-awake and cheerful. He started a Sunday morning tradition cooking a huge brunch with one or more of the boys helping him. They learned to make sausage, bacon, eggs and pancakes while I blissfully snoozed. It was a great dad and son bonding time and they all enjoyed it.

More time passed and so many, many meals together. Unexpectedly there was another baby and I knew that this time we would have to get a bigger table! In the meantime, the high chair was squeezed into a corner and the meals were made even more interesting with a baby brother there to laugh at while he attempted to learn to eat by himself. And of course, there was always the inevitable: what’s for dinner, mom? After repeating myself four times each day I got a bit tired of it and one day I said, Food. What kind of food? Cooked food. What kind of cooked food? Hot, cooked food. Well, you get the idea. And this could go on for as long as my patience could hold out.

Coming from an unstable background, I know our adopted sons particularly enjoyed the family meals. Shawn was my cheerleader I could always count on him to say, Good meal, Mom! and then he would have to listen to teasing about being a suck-up but he bore it well. He and I both knew he meant what he said and it never failed to make me smile. It also was a wonderful reward for the hours of shopping and cooking.

The unthinkable occurred and Shawn was suddenly taken from us. Over and over I would set the table for everyone forgetting there was one less person now. It tore at my heart to take that extra place setting and sadly put it back each time I forgot. Then the day came where the youngest needed to start sitting at the table. Seeing that once again there was just enough room for all of us was heartbreaking. Now looking at bigger tables was just one more painful reminder that we really didn’t need one any larger than what we had. The Sunday brunches were half-heartedly attempted but it was just too hard now. They became a nice memory.

The older boys became adults and left home college, jobs, the military. Empty places in my heart empty places at my table. They continued to grow, too, so, when they were all there, we generally had a few squabbles about who was taking up too much room.

You get what you pay for with cheap furniture and we decided we had to replace our rickety set. It no longer really was that important to me that the table was large. Losing Shawn had taken away not just our son, but my ability to look into the future with assurance that it would all be as I imagined. And things like furniture just ceased to be important anyway. Never having been well off financially we opted for a used set and I scoured the shoppers each week watching for a good bargain. An older couple had sold their home and bought a trailer and so everything in their house was being sold. When we went to look at the table they had for sale the older man talked about how they mostly used it for holidays when their grown children would come home with their children. A lump grew in my throat as I gazed at the table and imagined my sons sitting there, laughing, passing food, enjoying each other.

I was excited to be able to bring home a matching buffet and server. I couldn’t wait to finally take my good dishes out of the boxes where they had been stored. The old table was unceremoniously taken out and stored in the garage and the new furniture took its place. Finally! A table which didn’t rock if you leaned on it, squeak if you moved it the least little bit, chairs that were substantial enough to take big boys falling into them but the biggest change was the space. This was a BIG table and we had only put in one leaf. The milk bottle no longer had to sit on the floor and there was plenty of room even when we had a few stray neighborhood children sharing our meals.

I looked at it the other day and found myself with an uncontrollable flood of tears running down my cheeks. No matter what table sits in that room and no matter how many sit at it there will always be a place that will remain empty. There will always be one less place setting than there should be. And one day, God willing, my grown children come home with their families there will be even more places that should be there. Grief overwhelmed me as I sobbed and wailed with that gut-wrenching pain only a parent who has lost a child can understand. I let it all out, I acknowledged my feelings, and I am okay now.

Still there will always be one empty place. Maybe the table will be full but my heart will know.

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Grief Cannot Be Escaped

One indisputable fact about grieving for a loved one who has died is that it will never, ever leave your life. No matter where you go or what you do, the memories come with you. And, with the memories, the pain rides along like a sidecar on a motorcycle.

It may become less intrusive in your life as time passes. The pain definitely becomes less sharp around the edges and you learn coping mechanisms for when it arises from within. You learn to smile again and even laugh. For a time you may not feel the pain and you fall into a false sense of peace thinking the pain has, perhaps, left you. Then something will remind you and your heart is pierced once more and once more the tears flow.

It is right that it should be this way, though. If we didn’t remember than the person would have died so completely that their life would never have mattered. We should remember because each person that enters our life has an influence on it. Remembering the ones who die before us honors them in a way comparable to no other. Even if they have left some harsh memories behind, those, too, have helped to mold us into who we are now. Hopefully it has strengthened us but, even if that is not the case, then at least we have learned how NOT to behave.

For those who have left far too soon – our children – our memories are only sweet and sorrowful. The younger the child, the less the memories and that is very painful. Some people think it is worse to lose a child early in their life because you have not had time to build up that store of memories. Their reasoning is that you feel less for that child since you have had them a shorter period of time. That reasoning is faulty, though, because love begins in the womb. It is hard either way; there are no comparisons here.

If you can’t run away and you can’t just forget then you must learn to live with it and deal with it. Unfortunately, that is easier said than done. It is far less painful to ignore bad experiences than confront them head-on. But it must be done, or at least should be done, for two reasons. The first is that it is not going to go away. As stated earlier, no matter where you go or what you do, grief will follow. It clings to you and you cannot shrug it off. There is no use trying even with the use of alcohol or drugs because it just will not leave. So far better to face it and deal with it so you can live the rest of your life in a more peaceful manner.

Secondly, ignoring or denying that very pain seems to dishonor the memory of the person who has died. In order to celebrate the joy and love they brought to your life you have to be able to fully embrace the memories. If you can’t do this without falling apart than you are missing out on the gift they gave you of being in your life.

It takes a lot to deal with grief at its worst and it is definitely not easy. And anyone trying to do so should not attempt to do it alone. We all need each other especially at this time. Usually you will not only learn personal coping mechanisms but you will come away with new people in your life who will influence it in a positive way. And maybe, just maybe, you can move on to do the same for another grieving person.

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Split Personalities

What I know about multiple or “split” personalities is just what I have seen in movies such as “Sybil” and “The Three Faces of Eve.” I do know this can happen when a traumatic event occurs and the person just cannot deal with the pain and so retreats within their mind. Somehow, outwardly, they become a whole other person. No, I really don’t know that much about it except that I think this is what happened to me. Not literally but that is what it feels like.

The year is 1996. It is a beautiful spring day in April. We are not out enjoying the sunshine, however. We are congregated in a small family waiting room at a local hospital. A doctor comes to the door. Snatches of words find their way inside my head. “sorry”, “nothing more”, “all we could do”, “nurse will take you.” He begins to grow smaller and smaller – the incredible shrinking doctor. No, wait. It is my vision. Slowly I am pulling back inside my head – farther and farther away. Deeper and deeper inside. Burying myself deep inside the gray matter pulling it around me like covers from a bed. Mmmmm comfortable and comforting… think I will stay there until… until…. just…. Stay…. there….

My survival mechanisms are triggered. The brain acknowledges I am now off-duty and sends for reinforcements. A new “me” is sent to the front lines and begins immediately to take over. There are certain arrangements to be made. Phone calls must be placed to friends and family members. Children to be comforted.

Time passes. New Me is adequate but has limitations. I no longer belong to any civic or educational committees. The children are not in many extra-curriculars. Friends call to go out for lunch. It is difficult to get New Me to go out anywhere. The bare minimum of laundry and housework are accomplished. Meals are adequate but never anything new or complicated. New Me can only handle so much – she is far from being a Super Mom or a Type A.

Flash forward several years. A roller skating rink. Music. Laughter. Skaters everywhere. One child struggles to keep on his feet. Around him skate his peers – some fast, some slow, some in circles but he clings to the wall in desperation. One false step and down he will go. He is scared, almost in tears.

New Me sits watching, a small fake smile on her face. She has just participated in a little motherly chit chat but the other mothers have left the table and she has an opportunity to watch the children skating. She focuses in on the child who cannot skate. Her heart begins to pound fast and hard. Deep inside her brain is a stirring. The original person she once was sits up and takes notice of the boy. Reluctantly but with determination she lets herself remember. She remembers other little boys who could not skate. She remembers being their mother and finding ways for them to learn to skate. By the time they were the age the boy is now, they were whiz kids on wheels. They never suffered through the humiliation and distress the boy now feels. She realizes that she let the New Me carry on for far too long. It is time to go back…

It feels strange, being back, having a physical body once again. Looking in the mirror is a shock. The hair is a mess – might as well shave my head and start over! Too many meals of fast food and convenience. Too many snacks in front of the TV. New Me liked her food and loathed exercise. It shows. Aging and stress have taken their toll. Sigh… time enough later for getting back on track. First I need to address the needs of my family.

I feel as if I am awakening from a deep sleep. Everything looks a little different, a little “off.” I don’t feel comfortable – the world no longer fits. It is so weird, so strange. I want to back inside my brain. I don’t want to be here. It hurts too much. Out here I have to face the fact that Shawn is dead. I have to go to places I went with him. I have to do things with the younger boys that I did with him. I have to see his former classmates now almost grown as he would be, too, if he were still here. Oh, it hurts, it hurts so bad. It is SO much easier to crawl back deep down inside. But I can’t go back. Shawn’s younger brothers deserve the same maternal attention that he received. It isn’t fair that that should die along with him. For too long it was missing because New Me just couldn’t do what I could do. New Me was an adequate enough temporary substitute but not a replacement.

It is hard to know where to start. I flit from one thing to another trying to do it all at once. Trying to make up for being “gone” for years. Every room in the house needs a complete heavy duty cleaning. Junk has piled up everywhere.

There are those who no longer write letters to me as it has been so long since I have written to any of them. Every year New Me would get out the Christmas cards, get as far as addressing some of them and then put them aside. All my plants are gone. There used to be beautiful greenery everywhere that was carefully tended. All gone. The pets need haircuts, there is a pile of mending that reaches the ceiling, and there are boxes of clothing that need to be sorted through for possible donation to charity. I am grateful New Me got my physical body through the worst of the years after Shawn’s passing but there was so much New Me did not do. It is very hard to try and juggle these things while dealing with the emotional aspect of returning to myself.

I try to focus on the positive side of coming back. It is so nice to see the progress I am making on the house. I think about getting some plants to fill the sadly empty planters. No, I sigh in frustration, I can’t do everything at once. It took years for the world around me to reach this point; hopefully it won’t take years to put it back into order.

The date approaches that marks the day Shawn left this world. Some call it the angel day, others the heaven day. Nice enough euphemisms. It doesn’t matter what I call it. Things don’t change because I don’t use the words dead or died. Funny how we avoid them – we are more likely to use a four-letter word than those. In any case, that day was once again in front of me.

I think of the day he died and how I tried to escape from my pain by hiding inside myself. If my family did not need me to be completely myself again I could easily have remained that way the rest of my years here on earth. As it is, I still feel somewhat strange and out of place. Even though I have done everything just as before something has changed. And then I realize that, along with Shawn, part of me died that day, also. Things will never feel “normal” and comfortable again. I found strength, though, in those years that I “hid” and so I can handle this new life. The coping mechanism I employed for the years right after Shawn’s death was necessary to get me to this point in my life. Now, however, I have to assume my rightful place as the mother of my children with all the trials and tribulations that come with that role. And that was fine as now I could handle it but I need to do so with the understanding that things have changed. Outwardly, there are no changes to be seen. All appears to be just as it was. I am often exhausted from just getting through the simplest day. And I know it will be tempting on so many days to crawl back inside that safe zone.

My strength, too, comes from seeing how grateful my family is to have me “back” and, in their eyes, seeing things returning to normal. They don’t quite understand where I went or what was happening but they see the difference. Sometimes I feel badly and beat myself up over the time I wasn’t there for them but in the end that serves no purpose. I did what I had to do to survive at the time. No, things are no longer the same but how can they be? Anyone who expects that is in for a sad awakening at some point. We will move on together now and do the best we can. And that is okay. We have each other, we have our faith and we have our memories. Life goes on. So will we.

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Loss of Innocence

When a relative of mine recently moved into their new house she made the comment to me that they plan to be there a LONG time. She had mentioned before this will be the one and only house they will ever buy. But what goes through my mind when she says this is how does she know this will be the case? What does the road ahead hold in store for them that may change things in their lives together? We plan ours lives out but they don’t always work out according to those plans. And it can be difficult to deal with, and accept, those occurrences that cause the change in our plans.

When I had an ectopic pregnancy years ago I learned a term that has come to have a great deal of meaning to me: “loss of innocence.” It referred to becoming pregnant again and losing that feeling of security that everything would turn out just fine. The pregnancy would be easy and risk-free and the baby would be born healthy. Everything would have a fairy-tale quality about it. Having gone through an in-your-face dose of reality losing a baby, though, makes a subsequent pregnancy an entirely different matter. Now you fearfully note every small ache and pain and second-guess yourself constantly. You tell yourself everything will be fine but deep down you are certain tragedy will prevail once again. It makes the entire experience terrifying totally leeching every ounce of joy an upcoming blessed event should offer. Unfortunately, there is no cure for this. You simply have to suffer through it and pray with all your heart and soul that this time things will end differently with a sweet, healthy living baby.

I see this term applied to many other areas of our lives – not just to a pregnancy loss. If you divorce and marry again you may never entirely feel 100% sure this marriage will last as you did the first time you said I do. If your house burns down you will always have that fear it will happen again no matter how safety conscience you have become as a result. If you are involved in a serious car accident you will never again sit in a vehicle without that small nagging voice in the back of your mind saying it could happen again.

After losing the baby I carried I attended a support group that helped me so much that I started a branch of it when we eventually moved away. I heard about every type of loss a pregnant woman could experience and it was with great trepidation that I faced having another child. Thankfully my next child was born with few problems but the fear never left me. Oddly enough it didn’t carry over a great deal to fears over my living children and their well-being. Certainly I was realistic enough to know something bad could happen but I didn’t think it would happen. There is a subtle psychological difference there that allows a parent peace of mind in every situation while raising children.

Then the unthinkable occurred when we faced the death of our fourteen-year-old son, Shawn. Once again “loss of innocence” reared its ugly head and I now find myself agonizing over scenarios where another one of our four remaining children loses his life. This time, though, I find it has taken an even deeper toll in that I no longer am so certain of the future. Where will I be in five, ten, twenty years? Where will my family members be at that time? Will they all be living? Will we all be safe and healthy? Will we be okay???? I find I can’t make plans as I once did far in advance. Even something as simple as where and how to spend a holiday is not planned for until it is right upon me. I feel I can’t know what will happen next week or next year so how can I plan for it?

Just as the pain has eased enough so that I can once again resume a somewhat normal semblance of my previous life I am sure these feelings, too, will ease with time. But I have a notion that it will never be the same. Just as I could never again carry a child to term without nine of months of fear, I will never wake up to a new day without wondering if all will be fine with me and mine. It is just one more small difference that those who have not suffered a loss such as ours will never understand.

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Does God Answer YOUR Prayers?

The article is about a dying child. No hope is left yet the family continues to pray to God for a miracle. Unbelievably, that miracle occurs. A jubilant mother proclaims, “God listened and answered our prayers! We are so thankful!” We all understand that. We smile and feel good for this family and know that all is right with the world. We need only pray to God to have everything go the way we wish.

If this were true no one would die and no bad things would ever happen in our lives. Reality, though, is that bad things do happen despite how hard we might be praying. So what does that tell us about the family who prays and yet the child does not recover? Is God ignoring their prayers? Did they do something wrong in their lives that He does not feel they are worthy of His intervention? We hear over and over that we need to pray and God will answer our prayers. Yet many people feel, after a tragedy has occurred in their lives, that God has forsaken them.

Nowhere are we told, however, that by praying and expecting God to answer our prayers, should things then go as we wish them to go. Instead we are told to have faith in God. And therein lies the problem. What is easy to say is not as easy to do. If we have faith and we believe God has a plan we must be accepting of what happens. A true believer knows God answers all our prayers. The answer may not be what we think or expect or at least hope it will be however. When this happens our faith may break down and we may decide God does not exist or perhaps we become angry with Him. We find no comfort in our faith as we feel abandoned or betrayed by our Father. We question over and over His decision and the apparent unfairness of it. Why did this bad thing happen to us? The age-old question arises: why me, God, why me?

So what is the solution? Chances are we are all going to face a crisis in our lives that will go bad. How will we react? What will we do when no answer comes to explain “why me?” Is there a way to be prepared for this situation?

There can be if you are strong enough to make those preparations. Being honest with yourself is the first step. Although we can’t truly ever know how we will feel or react when the worst occurs, anyone who believes in God and has loved ones here on earth knows the first thing they will do in a crisis is to pray for a positive ending. That is normal and understandable.

But now think seriously about how you will feel if things go badly. Will you be able to accept that as God’s will? If you don’t think you will be able to do that, how can you find that strength and faith? Where can you look for help and guidance?

This is the time to talk to your church leaders – before you have the need to face this situation. Being prepared and understanding that God answers all prayers, we just might not always like the answers, will help. While you will obviously still pray for the answer you most wish to see, you can also feel God is with you by praying for the strength to accept whatever answer you are given. Praying for that strength helps you feel God is by your side no matter what. Understanding and truly believing that He is omnipotent and all knowing will enable you to find peace in your heart during the worst tragedies in your life.

Talking to others who have managed to keep their faith despite adversity is another way to learn coping mechanisms. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Generally people who have faced a crisis of faith are eager to pass on what they have learned. They understand what it feels like to think God has forsaken them. They have wondered what they did wrong in their life that deserves punishment for that is how we tend to see bad things occurring in our lives. They have felt the rage, the disappointment, the confusion and all the other confliction emotions that we feel when someone has let us down. Finding out how they managed to come to terms with these feelings and find their way back to God is a blessing we should all look for in our lives. Nothing is a more powerful testimony than hearing from one who has been there.

Knowing, too, that strong negative emotion is normal will help at those times. If any friend in your life lets you down in a big way you would feel justified in running through the entire gamut of raw, negative emotions. God is no different. He is a beloved member of our family and, if we feel He has let us down, it is normal and very, very human to feel those same emotions. We should not feel uncomfortable about that or chastise ourselves but rather let the emotions play themselves out just as you would in any situation with a friend. Give yourself time to calm down and think things through a bit more clearly. Granted this will not happen easily or overnight in extreme situations such as the death of a loved one but it is okay to give yourself permission to feel that way for a while. If you have a strong relationship with God eventually you will find your way back. And just as you would do with a friend who has betrayed you, you may need to find forgiveness in your heart towards God for His decision. Nowhere does it say we must agree with God’s plans. That is not necessary to have faith. But, in the end, we must be accepting.

To bring all of this into perspective I would like to relate my own experiences in this area because one of my sons died at age fourteen. Some parts of that time in my life are a dark blur but one part stands out clear in my mind. We were ushered into a small family waiting room to wait while the medical personnel attempted to bring my son back to life. A minister entered and asked us to pray with him. He wanted to say The Lord’s Prayer and I couldn’t do it. I told him I could not say “your will be done” because I knew I didn’t mean it. I did not want God’s will to prevail here and I knew in my heart it already had as Shawn had died at home and nothing short of a miracle would bring him back to us. I asked to pray to Mary and I implored her as one mother to another to intervene and let me have my son back. It didn’t happen. Shawn was gone. My beautiful blue-eyed, freckle-faced sweet boy had gone home. No one had ever in the history of the world prayed harder that day than I did yet Shawn died. So was I a bad person? Did God abandon me in my time of need? Should I have bargained with Him? Where were the answers? Why didn’t He tell me?

After my son’s death I met many, many other bereaved parents and I was astonished at how many either hated God or had decided He did not exist. All of these people had professed having a strong belief before losing their child. It amazed me that they could so easily abandon their faith when things went wrong in their lives. I didn’t recall ever hearing we were promised a life free of pain and conflict. I took comfort in knowing my son was in the best possible place I believed there to be in our lives. And I put my faith in God praying that He help me accept His plan. I did add on an addendum to my prayers that I expected to be let in on that plan when I someday joined my son, but, in the meantime, I found peace believing in my beliefs.

Some people feel this means letting go of their grief and love. It is as if they think this attitude means they willingly let go of their loved one and are in agreement with God’s plans. I believe this prevents their finding peace and healing. There is nothing in this entire world I would want to change more than having my son back in my life. I don’t like living here without him in my life but I don’t know what the big picture is so how can I say I agree or disagree with God’s plan? I do accept that He knows best.

My other belief is that the saying about God never closing a door without opening a window is also true. I think not only is this true but it helps you find acceptance more easily. . Acceptance has not and will never repair the hole in my heart left when my son died. Searching out those positive blessings in my life that have come about because my son died, however, helps take my mind off the pain I feel and will always feel.

I have met so many people I would not otherwise have met. I have begun writing again. I have learned so much about computers and this has helped me reach out and help other people. I have gained a new closeness with my remaining children and I am a far more patient, calm parent than I was before losing Shawn. Material goods have lost their appeal for me any longer and I value my family and friends in a way I never could previously have understood. I know that truly each day is a gift and we should never waste that gift.

Would I give all this back to have Shawn here again where I can wrap my arms around him in a huge hug and tell him I love him? In a heartbeat. I can’t have that, though, and so I choose to believe God knows best. My prayers are not to have what I want but to accept what He wants. This, to me, is what true faith is all about.

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