Coping with loss.

Over a year ago I went to a friends blog just to read her new entry and ended up facing a heart wrenching image of parents with a face I know all to well. They had just lost their son. As I saw the familiar expression I remembered the day I lost my little one, and the out of body experience I had as I heard myself screaming at the hospital staff, at the world, at God "NOOOO!" My life has never been the same, and I know that theirs will never be the same either, but loss is not the end of life, or at least it doesn't need to be. For many it isn't, and they deal with the loss of a child through the continual process of becoming closer, learning to work through the tremendous fear of loss, and the pain, and move on. They never forget, and one day does not end without the memories flooding back, but they are able to continue to live their lives perhaps even better than they did before. I went to their blog today just to see how they are doing, and it was amazing the love that surrounds them. My own story of loss was much different. I spent years trying to hold on to my faith, and to make sense of a senseless situation. I tried to put on a happy face for those around me, but often this "mask" put on for the comfort of others, would fade away, and life decisions would be made out of fear, out of a lack of forgiveness, or out of longing. For years after my loss I was haunted by nightmares of her waking up in a coffin all alone, or I would have dreams of finding her alive only to hold her for a day, and then lose her again. I was angry, and I didn't know that it was O.K. to be angry. When I felt I could no longer be angry at God I turned that anger inward, and that resulted in endless guilt that would dissipate for awhile only to reappear. Why was this happening to me? I went to church every Sunday, fulfilled my callings, I did service for others, yet I must have done something horribly wrong in order to deserve this happening to me. I stopped telling my living child no, refused to deny her anything and constantly tried to do better, but lived in constant fear of not being perfect. No one knew, or if they did they were able to ignore the fact that I was still mourning, that I was still in turmoil and hurting. Mourning the loss of a loved one is a funny thing. People put a time frame on something that should have no time frame. One of the best things that ever happened to me was taking a class on death and dying. I began to see that while death is unpleasant it is unavoidable, and that my feelings of remorse over days when I told her "No" to a cookie or didn't read a bed time story was really anger over a lack of time, and a lack of forgiveness. I forgave the Dr. who never diagnosed her disease, but I couldn't forgive myself until I realized that guilt is anger at the situation I had no control over. If I had said yes to everything and she had lived to be a great grandmother I would have been in the wrong and that was obvious. After many years, I can finally say that I have healed from the loss of a child, and in many ways have grown from it. I know how precious life is, and how fragile it is. I value every day with my family. I am grateful for the examples of others who rise above these heartaches with apparent ease as a result of the endless support of great extended families and I know that I want to build that kind of family. There is beauty in life, but during those times when we are the most taxed to find meaning and purpose we often find the greatness in others through our own loss. While the images of their loss were heartbreaking, and a reminder of my own sorrow, the message of their collective strength has helped me to move forward. I am grateful for that, I wish I could tell them so.