The support group was part of a larger organization solely dedicated to providing support for those who have lost children, grandchildren, or siblings. The facilitator opened the meeting by saying that dues to belong to the club are more than anyone would ever want to pay. Well, he couldn’t be more correct: No one wants to belong to this group. When hearing the stories from other parents, I had a visceral reaction to being part of this “club” but was also humbled by the greatness of these mothers and fathers. If you see something that reminds you of my child, tell me. If you are reminded at the holidays or on his birthday that I am missing my son, please tell me you remember him. And when I speak his name or relive memories, relive them with me; don’t shrink away. If you never met my son, don’t be afraid to ask about him. One of my greatest joys is talking about him. Please: Don’t tell us it’s time to get back to life, that’s it’s been long enough, or that time heals all wounds. We welcome your support and love, and we know sometimes it’s hard to watch, but our sense of brokenness isn’t going to go away. It is something to observe, recognize, accept. Then there’s the anniversary of the date our child became an angel. This is a remarkable process similar to a parent of a newborn, first counting the days, then months, then the one-year anniversary, marking the time on the other side of that crevasse in our lives. No matter how many years go by, the anniversary date of when our child died brings back deeply emotional memories and painful feelings (particularly if there is trauma associated with the child’s death). The days leading up to that day can feel like impending doom or like it’s hard to breathe. We may or may not share with you what’s happening. This is where the process of remembrance will help. If you have heard me speak of my child or supported me in remembering him or her, you will be able to put the pieces together and know when these tough days are approaching. As bereaved parents, we are constantly balancing holding grief in one hand and a happy life after loss in the other. You might observe this when you are with us at a wedding, graduation, or other milestone celebration. Don’t walk away—witness it with us and be part of our process. We will never forget our child. And, in fact, our loss is always right under the surface of other emotions, even happiness. We would rather lose it because you spoke his/her name and remembered our child than try and shield ourselves from the pain and live in denial. Grief is the pendulum swing of love. The stronger and deeper the love, the more grief will be created on the other side. Consider it a sacred opportunity to stand shoulder to shoulder with someone who has endured one of life’s most frightening events. Rise up with us.
