I am so tired. Granted, I had a busy week, but it is more than that. It is the tiredness of grief. I want to sleep for a month, or two, or maybe even for a year. This is not depression tiredness, but the exhaustion of my soul. I listen to counselors, to experts, to other parents who have lost a child, or in some cases, have lost children. One thing is common to them all: each believes there is no right or wrong way to grieve. We each have an individual path to follow and we have to do what is right for us.
My problem is that I don't know what that is. Do I give in to the exhaustion and sleep for a week? I have much to do and am already behind. Will I catch up if I am rested? Will the rest even restore my energy or will I forever stagnate in this exhaustion? Is this tiredness the normal tiredness of grief or is there something more going on? If I do rest, will I ever get back on track? Or, will I lose focus entirely and not be able to find the slippery traction of my path?
The thought of finding an answer to these questions is so mind boggling to me that I can't begin to sort it all out. I miss Colby so much. Every time I breathe, every time I turn around, everything I do. He should be here, yet he is not. Many grieving parents say the second year is worse than the first. The shock wears off and the "real" grieving begins. If that is true, how can I possibly put one foot in front of the other and finish this first year, much yet the second, and the third and the fourth? The only thing I know is that I have to. Somehow I have to because this is what my life is now, and I have no other choice than to continue on. Other grieving parents find a way. If they can do it, I can do it, too.
Showing posts with label death of a child. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death of a child. Show all posts
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Chile
My heart aches for the people of Chile, as it does for those in Haiti. So many parents who have lost sons and daughters; the collected grief is almost unbearable. I talk to so many bereaved parents who, like some of the earthquake parents, don't know what actually happened to their sons and daughters. These parents search, day after day, hoping their child survives, hoping their child is safe. There are few happy endings. The "not knowing" adds greatly to the parent's pain.
I feel the panic, loss, despair, panic, sadness, grief these parents in Chile, Haiti, Okinawa and other places feel. I live the unbelievability of no longer sharing the Earth with your child. I wish I had words, answers. I do not. What I do have are strategies to get through the first few hours, days, of disaster and loss. I was there. I lived it. Am still living it. Will always live it. But when my son passed, when Colby passed, I didn't know a lot of the following. I wish I had because it would have helped me get through the first few hours and days.
1. Allow others to do for you. Allow others to help.
2. Be honest in telling others your needs. If you can't get out of bed, don't.
3. Realize that others are grieving, too. Hug them and allow them to hug you.
4. Understand that your child would want you to go on with your life, so do that for them.
5. Get medical attention if you can. The physical symptoms of shock and panic attack are real.
6. Take life one minute at a time. Do not look beyond that as it will be too overwhelming.
7. Breathe. Remember to breathe.
8. When you are able, stay busy. Let your subconscious process the early stages of the loss.
9. Help others as you can. Do it for your child. Make them proud.
10. This is not something you "get over." Over time, you will discover a "new normal" that is your life.
11. Your life is forever changed, but you can, eventually, live a full and worthwhile life.
12. Everyone grieves differently. Accept that and understand the choices of others.
13. Grief is a process. Processing the initial stages of the loss of a child can take years.
14. Grief is circular. There is no right or wrong with grief, It just is where it is.
15. Be kind to yourself. That your child was in a building that fell was not your fault.
16. Believe in whatever spirituality or religion you believe in, then embrace it.
17. Do something wonderful to honor your child's life and memory. Do it every day.
I feel the panic, loss, despair, panic, sadness, grief these parents in Chile, Haiti, Okinawa and other places feel. I live the unbelievability of no longer sharing the Earth with your child. I wish I had words, answers. I do not. What I do have are strategies to get through the first few hours, days, of disaster and loss. I was there. I lived it. Am still living it. Will always live it. But when my son passed, when Colby passed, I didn't know a lot of the following. I wish I had because it would have helped me get through the first few hours and days.
1. Allow others to do for you. Allow others to help.
2. Be honest in telling others your needs. If you can't get out of bed, don't.
3. Realize that others are grieving, too. Hug them and allow them to hug you.
4. Understand that your child would want you to go on with your life, so do that for them.
5. Get medical attention if you can. The physical symptoms of shock and panic attack are real.
6. Take life one minute at a time. Do not look beyond that as it will be too overwhelming.
7. Breathe. Remember to breathe.
8. When you are able, stay busy. Let your subconscious process the early stages of the loss.
9. Help others as you can. Do it for your child. Make them proud.
10. This is not something you "get over." Over time, you will discover a "new normal" that is your life.
11. Your life is forever changed, but you can, eventually, live a full and worthwhile life.
12. Everyone grieves differently. Accept that and understand the choices of others.
13. Grief is a process. Processing the initial stages of the loss of a child can take years.
14. Grief is circular. There is no right or wrong with grief, It just is where it is.
15. Be kind to yourself. That your child was in a building that fell was not your fault.
16. Believe in whatever spirituality or religion you believe in, then embrace it.
17. Do something wonderful to honor your child's life and memory. Do it every day.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Pains
This article is so applicable to what I feel that I thought it worth posting here.
Phantom Pains
by Carol Mudra
(from Prodigy Medical Support Bulletin Board/Death of a Child)
This A.M. when I was in that half-awake, half-asleep state, I was thinking about what it is like to have your child die. So many people that haven't lost a child cannot possibly understand. I thought of losing a child as being compared to losing one of your extremities. If you had your arm suddenly amputated you would go into extreme shock. There would be sooo much pain for a long, long time. As that assaulting, excruciating pain eases, you learn to "get back into life," step by step, but it's a long process of rehabilitating yourself to learn to live without your arm. You start to "get better" and then the phantom pains come and try to haunt you.
Unexpectedly, without warning, there you are again in pain, except now people don't understand your pain as well as they once did. So you feel guilty for feeling this phantom pain. There are some friends out there who are more wise and do understand about the phantom pains and will still love and be there with you. Other will not.
Your hand itches but you can't scratch. It's not there. The longing to hold your child is there, it's real, but you can't hold your child again while we are still here. We, as parents who have had a child die, have had part of us amputated. They were born out of us, bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh, carried in our wombs, nurtured at our breasts. And even those who have been adopted into our lives are knitted into our very souls. So, how can the death of a child even be related to the death of a father, mother, sister, brother, spouse or friend? These are all great losses but having our child died is having part of us taken away. The grief different; it's not "normal," we are supposed to die before our children.
Then, I thought about the amputated arm. If that wound isn't cleansed and lovingly taken care of, it will become infected. Bitterness and anger (which are normal in grief) can lead to an infection in your soul if you get stuck in it and it is not dealt with. Friends can be loving healers helping to bind up the wound or they can rip open the wound, making it deeper, by insensitive remarks due to a lack of understanding.
We are all at different stages in our journey though this loss and hopefully our healing. But there will always be a part of us that is gone until we are in heaven with them. We will get the phantom pains but we can make a choice each day to go through the pain until we find some hope for our weary souls.
We will never be the same but we can survive and maybe we will even turn out to be a better people, more in tune with others, become "wounded healers". We are already more gifted than a lot of other people in this world because we KNOW what it is to truly love our child. There are a lot of people out there who take their children for granted, just as a lot of us have taken for granted that it is normal to have two arms and two legs.
But what if that were different.....?
Phantom Pains
by Carol Mudra
(from Prodigy Medical Support Bulletin Board/Death of a Child)
This A.M. when I was in that half-awake, half-asleep state, I was thinking about what it is like to have your child die. So many people that haven't lost a child cannot possibly understand. I thought of losing a child as being compared to losing one of your extremities. If you had your arm suddenly amputated you would go into extreme shock. There would be sooo much pain for a long, long time. As that assaulting, excruciating pain eases, you learn to "get back into life," step by step, but it's a long process of rehabilitating yourself to learn to live without your arm. You start to "get better" and then the phantom pains come and try to haunt you.
Unexpectedly, without warning, there you are again in pain, except now people don't understand your pain as well as they once did. So you feel guilty for feeling this phantom pain. There are some friends out there who are more wise and do understand about the phantom pains and will still love and be there with you. Other will not.
Your hand itches but you can't scratch. It's not there. The longing to hold your child is there, it's real, but you can't hold your child again while we are still here. We, as parents who have had a child die, have had part of us amputated. They were born out of us, bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh, carried in our wombs, nurtured at our breasts. And even those who have been adopted into our lives are knitted into our very souls. So, how can the death of a child even be related to the death of a father, mother, sister, brother, spouse or friend? These are all great losses but having our child died is having part of us taken away. The grief different; it's not "normal," we are supposed to die before our children.
Then, I thought about the amputated arm. If that wound isn't cleansed and lovingly taken care of, it will become infected. Bitterness and anger (which are normal in grief) can lead to an infection in your soul if you get stuck in it and it is not dealt with. Friends can be loving healers helping to bind up the wound or they can rip open the wound, making it deeper, by insensitive remarks due to a lack of understanding.
We are all at different stages in our journey though this loss and hopefully our healing. But there will always be a part of us that is gone until we are in heaven with them. We will get the phantom pains but we can make a choice each day to go through the pain until we find some hope for our weary souls.
We will never be the same but we can survive and maybe we will even turn out to be a better people, more in tune with others, become "wounded healers". We are already more gifted than a lot of other people in this world because we KNOW what it is to truly love our child. There are a lot of people out there who take their children for granted, just as a lot of us have taken for granted that it is normal to have two arms and two legs.
But what if that were different.....?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
