I find myself wanting to be profound and engaging and write
something that will change everything.
Instead I find myself unable to find words to articulate the experience
of the death of my child. Everything I
think of and start to put on paper feels puny and inadequate to capture the
enormous depth and breadth of my feelings and the profound changes her death
has wrought in me over time. In the over 40 years since my daughter’s
death I have learned a great deal about grief and that terrible process, but there
is not much new in grief. We have spent
much time, energy and money trying not to cry, all to no avail.
Grief is analogous to throwing up and serves the same
purpose, to rid the body/psyche of toxins.
To some degree a person can control both vomiting and grieving, with
similar results, control prolongs the suffering.
The death of my child still hurts and has profoundly changed
me and sets me apart from others in ways that are hard to bridge. I have found refuge in a few wonderful people
that can tolerate my grief and my strangeness.
As a therapist I have never worked with anyone that doesn’t
have as a core issue some profound loss that has not been expressed. When that issue is identified and the person
can grieve, the healing starts.
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