The Unspeakable Loss

INTRODUCTION

Recently, I spoke with Cindy, a mother whose six-year-old daughter Linda had died in a car accident just three weeks earlier. She asked me three questions:

After I answered Cindy’s first two questions, I told her the third question brought tears to my eyes. I can honestly say that, thirty-seven years after my son Victor’s death, yes, I am happy. I am also sad sometimes, I grieve sometimes, and I miss Victor every day. But I have discovered that even with a broken heart, we can learn to laugh and embrace life again.

The death of a child is the worst trauma a parent can endure. When my son Victor died in a hiking accident in Yosemite in 1980, a week before his eighteenth birthday, I questioned how life could be worth living again. Overcome with a grief I’d never known, I doubted I would ever again feel joyous or loving or have peace of mind.

This entry from my journal shortly after Victor’s death describes my feelings at the time: “The pain is too great; I can’t take a full breath. There is a fire in my gut that feels like it will never stop burning. I beg for the fire in me to be snuffed out. My child is gone! I feel crazy. Will I ever return to my ‘normal’ self? Do I even want to? Life is not worth living without Victor! How do I bear the unbearable?”

Even though I was a therapist and grief counselor, psychological knowledge and clinical experience did little to soothe my devastation and pain. I made a vow at that time that if I lived through this loss—and at first, that seemed far from certain—I would learn as much as possible about how other bereaved parents find their way and share that knowledge with others. I wanted to talk to the real experts—parents who had been through what I was experiencing. How did they survive? I didn’t think I could. What was their secret? Is survival really a miracle? The result of hard work? Simply the passage of time? Is it due to courage or luck? Does it require a leap of faith? It felt crucial that I solve the mystery of how parents could make their way through the bewildering land of parental loss.

My initial research involved interviewing thirty-two mothers, all of whom had experienced the sudden and unexpected death of a child, some less than a month before we spoke, others many years earlier. They generously shared their intimate feelings—their grief, confusion, struggles, and healing—in the hope of helping others. They told amazing stories, of miracles, unusual happenings, and those first glimmers of renewal and hope. And they asked questions, heart-wrenching, crucial questions: “Who am I now without my child?” “How can I help my other children cope?” “Will my marriage survive?” “Will life ever feel worth living again?” “What is my purpose now?”

Over the years, as I counseled many grieving parents, similar questions arose over and over. Their questions were always urgent, driven by confusion and pain. Yet those questions were often wise beyond their knowledge. They reflect the core challenges of the grief process: how do we remake our relationship to ourselves, our partners and families, our communities, our faith or spirituality? Parents’ questions go to the heart of what it is to grieve, to be reshaped by loss, and, ultimately, to reconfigure a life in positive, meaningful ways.

This book grew from the collective wisdom of the parents and family members I interviewed, my own experience, and that of the hundreds of mothers, fathers, and families I counseled over three decades of clinical practice as a grief counselor and psychotherapist. More recently, I interviewed another forty-six people, including parents whose children had died between five and fifty years earlier, siblings, grandparents, family members, and friends. (Some names have been changed to protect privacy.) The people I spoke with provided remarkable insight into the long-term course of grief and recovery, an area only beginning to be explored in the research literature. We now know that grief is not something one simply gets over. It is a life-altering, ever-evolving presence.

The shock of a child’s death affects every aspect of being: physical, mental, psychological, and spiritual. Unfamiliar and erratic behavior, emotional outbursts, anger at the world and at those around you, problems remembering the simplest things, changes in relationships, a desire to die, questions about one’s faith, and a host of other experiences are normal to the grieving process. Many parents experiencing loss are physically weakened and more susceptible to illness or other health issues. They may also suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). They must cope with feelings of guilt and responsibility, and adjust to a new family configuration. Marriages are challenged, as couples face the differing ways they cope with grief.

We each mourn differently. There is no one prescription for healing. You are going to find your own way. Some bereaved parents find it healing to be in the company of other bereaved parents. Others seek solitude. Some search for information or self-knowledge; others find activities that give them solace. Yet as I spoke with these remarkable parents, I realized that there is much that we share. There are patterns and commonalities in the experiences of bereaved parents. As we move through grief, there are touchstones along the way that many who have lost a child will recognize, as well as stories and questions that resonate with others who have experienced loss.

I did survive; I am surviving. Most of us do. And when we do, it seems as much a mystery as it does a miracle. Although it feels like time stops the moment your child dies and there’s a terrible grief you fear is forever, trust me that you will be able to breathe freely one day, to appreciate the beauty surrounding you, and to live again. We have a great capacity to heal and transform our grief over time.

If you are in acute pain, this may seem impossible—even absurd—right now. The thirty-seven years since Victor’s death have given me the advantage of being able to look back and recognize changes I never thought would occur, changes I didn’t think possible. As life goes on and the years pass, pain is altered and even disappears for large periods of time. It’s surprising how and when that happens, but it does. It is possible to again feel joy and a renewed sense of purpose in life. It is even possible to thrive, though this may at first seem impossible to believe.

Part of the miracle for me was to realize and then acknowledge the positive effects Victor’s death and my process of grieving had on my life. It’s difficult to acknowledge that something good can result from traumatic loss. Yet, over the years, in addition to learning to live with Victor’s death, I’ve come to realize that I have been transformed by this experience in unquestionably positive ways. I, like many of the bereaved parents I’ve encountered, have experienced unexpected changes in my beliefs about myself and what’s important, about faith and the miracle of life. Grieving parents often report becoming more compassionate and focusing more clearly on what truly matters in life. Many bereaved parents make remarkable choices about how to live the rest of their lives. Researchers are only beginning to recognize and examine the potent way that grief can, uncannily, enrich and transform a life for the better. The transformative power of grief is a topic that deserves much more focus.

This book follows the progression of grief from the excruciating first days through our long-term healing, but the grief process is neither uniform nor linear. After some better days, we may find ourselves circling back to a place of indescribable pain. Another day, our dark mood lifts. We circle forward and back in this dance of grief, with the only constant being change itself. I encourage you to respect your individual grief/healing process, to trust that you are healing as you are meant to.

Immediately after the death of a child, or any severe loss, it is unlikely that you will want to read at all. Your brain has undergone a severe trauma, and it takes time before you have the desire or ability to read. This book is structured to be used as needed. Feel free to skip around, read bite-sized pieces, or dive into those sections that feel most relevant to you. Pick it up when the time is right and when the words and experiences of others can be a balm.

I wrote this book for you. I want you to know that you are not alone, whether your child’s death was last week or many decades ago. Others have walked this path and were able to embrace life again, and you can too. I also wrote this book for your family and friends who care for you and want to support you throughout your time of grief, even while dealing with their own shock and loss. These family and friends play a special role in times of bereavement and are an essential part of your daily story of grief. This book is also for the mental health professionals and caregivers who seek to understand and assist their patients, clients, and friends through times of loss.

During that first year when I was struggling to find the desire to live, Victor came to me in a dream and spoke: “Mom, don’t be in a hurry to be here. When you are here, it’s forever. We’ll have all eternity together.”

I began to understand this life as a brief moment in a longer, everlasting journey. My relationship with Victor did not end with his death. My love for him is alive in my heart. I am more in awe of life than ever before. Its preciousness increases.

Even though feeling gratitude for this gift of life might sound like an impossibility right now, may you discover for yourself, over time, that love makes the unbearable bearable, and that the words of wisdom spoken by others or yourself can be a part of that healing.