In June of 2007 my daughter, Kelly, was killed in a single car accident. She was only 21. My new normal is a very isolated place; primarily because most people can not identify with the horror of losing a child. Seven years into this life I now own, I have found strength to soldier on.
There's a misconception that bereaved parents will get 'through' their grief or 'over' their grief, that you will 'heal'. After seven years as a grieving parent, I disagree. There's a TV commercial about COPD you may have seen. In the commercial, COPD is represented by an elephant. Grief for a bereaved parent is that elephant. Most of the time you were pinned down, you were unable to take much of a breath, you certainly could not move. With time, you grew strength to move from beneath it's weight, be it moments, days, or weeks. Sometimes it is attempting to force it's way back but you reach for resources that keep it at bay. But always, it is present. I have learned how to cope, what triggers my grief and what I am able to endure. In a few years, I don't doubt I will be even stronger. But my grief for Kelly is always at my side.
As with the death of any loved one, there are many reminders of them: Music, colors, events, movies, animals, books, scents, and on and on and on. But with a deceased child there are also the reminders of what could have been. I see Kelly's contemporaries moving forward with the achievements of their lives. Watching parents celebrate, as they should, their childrens' milestones. As I am reminded of those losses, I reach for my tools.
It has taken years to find those resources, trying this one on and that one. I approach sleep with much angst. During sleep I can not willingly apply resources. Sometimes there are nightmare but most of the time my dreams are filled with angst. I have found that playing pleasing sounds (birds for me) keep me from engaging in the emotions of the dreams. To any parent who has lost a child I encourage them to find their bag of tools, their satchel of strength. In my satchel I include the support group of bereaved parents that meet once a month. We bereaved parents are so lonely but together we receive and provide solace.
Social events were something I used to enjoy, now I cringe. Someone will invariably ask about children. Never wanting to exclude Kelly, I mention her too. I might as well have handed the inquiring person a venomous snake. I do not mean to make them feel uncomfortable but she is my chid. I advise that instead of repelling from the bereaved parent, ask about the child. We love to talk about our son or our daughter who no longer shares this life with us.
I am able to talk about Kelly and look at pictures but still I am unable to read any of or her letters nor can I watch any videos. Talking and photos are one dimensional, letters and videos have her voice, her laughter. Not ready, not yet. I am able to laugh more than cry now, but the melody of my laughter will never be without a note of sorrow.
Welcome, fellow travelers on the grief journey
and a special welcome to anyone
who is new to The Grieving Room.
We meet every Monday evening.
Whether your loss is recent, or many years ago;
whether you've lost a person, or a pet;
or even if the person you're "mourning" is still alive,
("pre-grief" can be a very lonely and confusing time),
you can come to this diary and say whatever you need to say.
We can't solve each other's problems,
but we can be a sounding board and a place of connection.
Unlike a private journal
here, you know: your words are read by people who
have been through their own hell.
There's no need to pretty it up or tone it down..
It just is.