Every parent’s worst nightmare
Losing a child tops the universal list of ultimate tragedies. Across cultures and generations, we know this to be every parent’s worst nightmare. But it happens. Every day. And when it happens to us, we are shocked, plunged into the unknown, and desperate for the pain to go away.
On the morning of July 25, 2013, I received the phone call that shattered my world as I knew it. My youngest son, Michael, had been killed in an auto accident. No warnings. Nothing to prepare me for the words, “He’s gone.” I yelled, “No! No! No!,” as my knees buckled. My body began to shake uncontrollably, and a wailing sound came from the depth of my soul that I never, ever, want to hear again. I felt like a meteor had crashed into my heart, creating a pain like none I had ever felt before. I screamed. I sobbed. I begged that it not be true.
Nothing can change what happened
This breaking-open of my heart plunged me deeply into the domain of sorrow and loss. I couldn’t change what had happened. I couldn’t wish it away, but I could determine how I would let it shape me. The news was devastating, but I refused to take on the role of someone who is devastated. Some wise part of me knew I had a choice.
Our words become our world
I firmly believe that the story we tell ourselves and others is the reality we get to live inside of. The labels we use become the lenses that color our experience. We must watch our words, as they become our world.
Well-intentioned people lovingly told me I would forever have a hole in my heart and the pain would lessen but always be there. Warning flags went up for me. I declined to accept these predictions. I believed it was possible to weave a different story. I was determined to extract some good from the grief and the pain. I demanded that it bless and transform me.
Choosing our response is our divine right
We have the capacity to choose our responses, no matter how desperate the circumstances. No one can take this away from us. It is the key to finding hope and building a new life that doesn’t deny our sorrow but uses it to grow.
Many grief “experts” refer to the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance—stages that never really felt like a fit to me in the first place. There was no denying the death, and I felt gutted, not angry. I had nothing to bargain about, my son was already dead. I experienced shock, initial disbelief, and a pain in my heart like none other.
Pain and joy walk side by side
I remember deep sadness more than depression—perhaps they are the same, but I think not. I soon discovered that pain and joy could live side by side, and I could experience them both at the same time. For me, my healing began with acceptance—a surrendering to the reality that my son had died and nothing was going to change that fact.
What you focus on expands
I became very aware of moment to moment choices about where I was going to focus my attention. Whatever we focus on expands. I decided to focus on the beauty and joy surrounding me, instead of missing it by being sad and wishing things were different.
You have these same choices. You can walk or sometimes even crawl through the valley of grief and despair and still experience joy. You can demand your blessing. You can choose to use your grief to grow and expand and live joyfully from your broken-open heart. You can refuse to accept the belief that a residual layer sadness will forever be a part of your new normal.
Don’t listen to anyone who says you will never be okay, that it will never become easy, and that the sorrow of loss will never lessen. Sadly, for those who accept this story and gather the evidence for its validity, it will become their reality. They will find others who live out the same story-line and thus reinforce the belief that we can never fully heal.
An invitation to explore the sacred
Death and sorrow can be an invitation to explore the sacred. A time to be curious and meet that part of you that knows your heart and your strength. It can be a time of embracing the turbulent waters of pain, exploring what they came to teach you, and finding your way to a safe-harbor on the other side of the storm.
The soil of sorrow can be rich with blessings, but only if you use it to grow your spirit. The temptation exists to let it devastate and bury you rather than elevate and open. Choose instead to be the hero in your story. Choose to find a meaning that empowers you and honors your child.
Let grief give you its gifts
I want to wrap my arms around you and assure you it will all be okay. If you let your grief give you its gifts, you will open a doorway to awareness and a deep connection to yourself—to your strength, your resilience, and your capacity to experience love and joy. My hope is that by doing your own soul searching, you, too, will find the good in unspeakable sorrow.
You, too, will step through the grief and find that the spiral of healing has lifted you up into a state of grace and gratitude that may seem impossible and out of reach at the beginning of your journey.
This I do know for sure—wholeness and joy and laughter await you on the other side of the pain. Feel a big hug from me as you step into your own spiral of healing. Blessings on your journey.
Help is available. If you would like to help yourself, or someone you love, move beyond whatever may be blocking joy and peace of mind, please download, as a starting point, Honoring and Treasuring the Memories from my website www.grieftograce.com. If you’d rather contact me personally, feel free to send an email to robyn@grieftograce.com and I’ll personally get back with you, ASAP.