Monday, January 5, 2015
The death of my child
a different world
did not know
I remember the days when I couldn’t concentrate long enough to read a book or write a paper for graduate school. Then slowly I could and I read lots of things about losing a child and how to get “better”. Getting better usually means not showing my grief in public, or anywhere for that matter. So how did I get “better” to have a rich and rewarding life along side the crippling? Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one in the world on this isolated lonely journey. That is the nature of grief; it is alone with no guide except my own desire to live. That choice led to my frequently bumping into walls, stubbing many toes and just wanting out of the struggle. Over time I discovered that if I could find a safe place and grieve, I always felt better. Gradually the waves of grief came further apart, not so intense and didn’t last as long.
I still feel different, set apart from others, I suppose I really am. Few have to redefine themselves and rebuild their lives in quite the same way as grieving parents and their families do. Staying on the healing path is an ongoing discovery of how to stay clear that that is what is wrong. It is easy to get sidetracked into anything but that
“It’s like going through empty rooms. There is no one to stop you, but no one to applaud either*”
*From Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand