The holiday season in many cultures is fast approaching thus intensifying the pain of grief. Pain is what we parents have most in common in the deaths of our children.
I feel your pain when I remember vivid images of my son, Chris, running track.
I feel your pain when I remember his voice saying on the phone,"Hi Mom, it's Chris."
I feel your pain in the dark hours of the night.
I feel your pain when Chris is missing from the family gatherings he loved so much.
I feel your pain when I look at photos of Chris.
I feel your pain at the beach when Chris is not there. He loved the shore.
I feel your pain when I drive alone in the car without him.
I feel your pain when I eat alone at our favorite diner.
I feel your pain on every holiday and every birthday.
I feel your pain when watching sports on TV.
I feel your pain when hear guitar music. Chris played guitar.
I feel your pain in my own anger, frustration, isolation and self-doubt.
You and I are besieged with the pain of thoughts and questions of why and what might have been's. Time can dull pain, but so can doing some imagery similar to Kathleen O'Hara's book in "A Grief Like No Other." Bear with me here. Be open to doing this. It can help you. Try to see your pain as a large rock or package which you take hold of. Now slowly push the rock or package forward. Practice doing this when you feel your pain overwhelming you. Each time you do it, visualize the package or rock getting smaller and smaller and easier to move or push. Breathe deeply while doing this.
The pain of our tragic losses will always be with us. But we can learn to live again with this pain and learn to manage it in a way our children would be proud. We can keep our pain in this symbolic package or under this rock. If we need to, we can take our pain out, examine it, talk about it or mourn over it. But pain need not overwhelm us 24/7. We can feel pain, but gradually contain it. Time and imagery can help lessen the intensity of the feeling of our pain.
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