I have been away after a long absence of not feeling as if I had anymore to say about grief and parental bereavement. I had to have multiple surgeries for breast cancer. My self-image changed. I was depressed. I didn't feel I could really write and give advice anymore. But friends, family and colleagues have had faith in me so here I am again. I came across this draft and feel it is still relevant as September is always a difficult month for me. It is the month of my son Chris' birthday and 5 days later, the anniversary of his death.
Looking back, I had had a teary night after a very rough two days. I had bought a new car and immediately started having problems with it. Even though the problems had been repaired and resolved, I still felt very alone one night. To make matters worse, the following Saturday was the anniversary of my husband Fred's death. He had been very ill and died six weeks after our son, Chris, died.
Chris assumed his father's role of keeper of the cars when my husband became ill. The year after Chris died I cancelled eight appointments to have my state inspection done on my car as it was too painful an association to Chris. Now, I can look back on this with humor. I recall how I tearfully explained this to a very young police officer who stopped me for my car being several months out of inspection. As the officer listened to my story, I could see the anxiety and confusion on his face. He attempted to reassure me with a warning only. He kept backing away from me to his patrol car. It is a very vivid memory to me. He was clearly uncomfortable with my loss and crying.
As was his colleague, a detective in the same department. I went to my local police for them to intercede with the police department in the jurisdiction where my son was killed. I tearfully told my story there too. The detective did help me, but he didn't want me and my tears sticking around.
And so it goes. I really miss them both with nostalgia and an aching heart. And I miss my dog, Amber, too. She was with me through everything. I think I slept with a pillow from Chris' bed and one from Amber that night.
Sometimes only your memories can sustain you. I felt very restless that night. I wished I could have reached out and touched all three. Had a conversation with them to assure me of their happiness. I knew they were no longer suffering pain, embarrassment, insecurity or frustration. They love and are loved by God.
Through my own fog at times, I can still assure you of this same love surrounding your children. I believe they are all right as is my Chris. I miss him terribly but, I do have faith in his immortality. Yes, I did have a brief moment when I wanted to join Chris, Fred and Amber. But only briefly, as I know my life and my work are not yet finished on earth.
This is why, to me, it is important to transform grief into purpose. This takes time. Time to accept, forgive and find reasons for gratitude in your life. All of which, only you can internalize before the pain of grief can be transformed to nostalgic purpose. It is not a straight, one way line. You will often go back and forth depending on birthdays, holidays and anniversaries of death. The important thing, though, is you have more and longer periods of moving forward. Be patient with yourself, your spouse, your kids.
What helped me to progress, was psychologist and bereaved parent, Kathleen O'Hara's book, A Grief Like No Other. If you don't read the whole book or can't read it all, it is still worth getting. You can page through and just read what you connect with. A key point in the book is acceptance. That is, we as parents must accept what has happened, in order to move forward through any denial, anger, forgiveness and a myriad of emotions. O'Hara goes through the steps and techniques to arrive at acceptance. May God guide you with peace and strength on your journey.
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