My father was never the same after my younger brother died.  Our family was never the same.  There was the time before he died and the time after he died. 

The loss of a child hits a parent in places never imagined.  It is out of the natural order of things.  My father never expected to lose one of his children.  My friend, Maureen, who lost her son Ryan, said that it is the “worst experience anyone could possibly have”.  She said that you belong to “a club that you don’t want anyone to have to join” and that the physical sense of loss is “ever present”.  The loss of a child is “qualitatively different from other loss”. 

Maureen shared that this grief was “new and pervasive” taking up residence in all of her being as if it were “another persona”, as if “something had visited me”.  

Grief is not linear.  The stages of grief as outlined by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in On Death and Dying do not progress sequentially from one to five.  You may not experience all of them.  You may experience one stage more deeply and more often than the others.  You may begin at four and return to one.  There is no on-off switch, and there is no commanding grief to leave.  You walk with it, and over time, it changes.

Grief impacts your entire system.  The world may feel off-kilter, unfamiliar, different.  In “Oceans,” poet Juan Ramon Jimenez wrote, “I have a feeling that my boat has struck, down there in the depths, against a great thing.  And nothing happens!  Nothing.  Silence.  Waves.  Nothing happens?  Or has everything happened?  And are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?”

In this new life, there are practices that can support you and even enrich your life.  Here are a few.

Allow rituals to soothe your nervous system.  Because your nervous system may be on high alert or may be in a state of shut down, practice rituals that will assist you in moving into greater safety. 

Light candles on birthdays and anniversary dates.  Take purposeful, mindful walks.  Write a letter to your child and read it out loud.  

Maureen literally “walked with grief” by walking The Camino de Santiago.  She had planned to do that pilgrimage in retirement, and it took on an enhanced meaning after Ryan’s death.  Because grief can be paralyzing, the act of putting one foot in front of the other to get where she was going was powerful.  

Her experience was purposeful.  She gave herself “deliberate time in her own mind”. David Kessler, who co-authored On Grief and Grieving with Kübler-Ross and wrote his own book, Finding Meaning, has offered the sixth stage of grief – finding meaning in what we’ve lost and finding purpose. 

Know that you are not alone in having experienced this depth of grief.  Knowing the common humanity of grief does not minimize your experience.  Instead, it offers up a supportive sharing and a vital witness to your grief.  

Maureen found “surprising joy in the strength of Ryan’s community and how they embraced us.  No one walks on this planet alone.” 

The vulnerability necessary in opening your heart to the shared humanity of grief is not a weakness but a strength. 

Another place where Maureen found strength was in knowing that her husband, Joe, was “someone who knew exactly how I felt, and I could see the look on his face and know exactly what he was feeling.” 

Feel what comes up for you.  As with all discomfort, you may want it to go away.  You may want to shut it down.  You may not want to feel it.  Maureen discovered that “grief is not an enemy” and that she had a choice about her relationship with grief. 

If this feels impossible for you, please seek out a therapist or coach who can safely guide you and be present to you.  Having what you are feeling – and the intensity of what you are feeling – witnessed and validated is important.  

Honor them.  In a Zoom service for a dear friend, Murray, held during the depths of the pandemic, the Rabbi talked about what Murray had loved doing in his life.  His hobbies included photography, plants, nature, and hiking.  With each passion, the Rabbi asked, “Who will take this on?”  People took on his loves as a statement of their love for him and to carry his love forward in the world.  I chose plants.  Every time I care for my plants, especially those given to me by Murray, I think of him and honor how much he mattered. 

If your child had a passion, carry it forward.  If they supported an organization or a cause, champion it in their name.  Create something in their honor.  

I find these words of Maya Angelou’s to be incredibly meaningful: “And when great souls die, after a period peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly.  Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration.  Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us.  They existed. They existed.  We can be.  Be and be better. For they existed.” 

Yes, they did.