Will it ever be the same again?

Sorry, but it can never be the same again...   (author unknown)

When a child of ours has died, or any one else whom we love for that matter, we hope and even pray that things will somehow be the same…that our life – our family – will get back to “normal”  As time goes on, we realize that “it will never be the same.”  We will always miss our loved one who has died.  At special holidays and family gatherings, there is always one person missing.  Some family members and friends assume that we are back to normal.  They just do not understand.

Once the horrific initial shock and sense of total denial of the initial few months begin to pass, the enormous and sad reality begins to become clear and for most of us, that is the time that seems the most difficult.  Our grief seems unbearable and we wonder if our heartache and sorrow is our new reality.  But life does go on and we don’t have a choice – we will and must go through this. 

What seems to complicate our grief is that once a few months have passed, many of those around us – our friend, co-workers and even family members, feel we are “getting better” and “moving on” but we know that’s so far from the truth – we are simply surviving and existing or when we don’t “get over it quickly enough” many people who we assumed would be there for us, pull away out f their own frustration of no knowing how and what to do to help us.  This is so common.  It is believed that this can be attributed in part to a general lack of knowledge of what grief is, leading to unrealistic expectations being placed on those who are grieving.  Sometimes it is helpful to communicate about our loss with someone new, since some old friends often just want us to return to our old selves again, which is unrealistic on their part.

So many times during the first year of mourning, especially following the holidays or anniversary of the death, those around us, as well as those of us who are grieving, may expect that everything will finally be OK and get better…  Be careful not to expect too much; because if and when things don’t magically “get better” many become discouraged.  

There is and never will be a timetable for grief – it is different for each and every person on this journey and different for each and every time the journey is made…  So be gentle with yourself and those around you..  It’s best not to have unrealistic expectations and remind yourself over and over again, there is no timetable for grief.. 

It will never be the same...

Unrealistically we hope that things will somehow be the same…that our life – our family – will get back to “normal”  As time goes on, we realize that “it will never be the same.”  We will always miss our loved one who has died.  At special holidays and family gatherings, there is always one person missing.  Some family members and friends assume that we are back to normal.  They just do not understand.

Once the horrific initial shock and sense of total denial of the initial few months begin to pass, the enormous and sad reality begins to become clear and for most of us, that is the time that seems the most difficult.  Our grief seems unbearable and we wonder if our heartache and sorrow is our new reality.  But life does go on and we don’t have a choice – we will and must go through this. 

What seems to complicate our grief is that once a few months have passed, many of those around us – our friend, co-workers and even family members, feel we are “getting better” and “moving on” but we know that’s so far from the truth – we are simply surviving and existing or when we don’t “get over it quickly enough” many people who we assumed would be there for us, pull away out f their own frustration of no knowing how and what to do to help us.  This is so common.  It is believed that this can be attributed in part to a general lack of knowledge of what grief is, leading to unrealistic expectations being placed on those who are grieving.  Sometimes it is helpful to communicate about our loss with someone new, since some old friends often just want us to return to our old selves again, which is unrealistic on their part.

So many times during the first year of mourning, especially following the holidays or anniversary of the death, those around us, as well as those of us who are grieving, may expect that everything will finally be OK and get better…  Be careful not to expect too much; because if and when things don’t magically “get better” many become discouraged.  There is and never will be a timetable for grief – it is different for each and every person on this journey and different for each and every time the journey is made…  So be gentle with yourself and those around you..  It’s best not to have unrealistic expectations and remind yourself over and over again, there is no timetable for grief.. 

~~ Author Unknown

The first years of this grief journey...

The death of a child - a child at any age - is such a traumatic, life-altering experience.   At first, you can't even comprehend the facts, no matter how hard you try to absorb them - your heart isn't ready...  It's not denial, because in those initial hours, days and weeks, denial isn't even possible yet because you truly can't comprehend what has and is happening around you.....  


In the days, weeks and months to follow, ever so slowly you allow yourself to relive those initial moments over and over again - each time allowing yourself to "stay in those initial moments - just a little longer"..  Initially it's as though we are dreaming and if we can just dream a little longer we can change the outcome...  With time, we stay there a little longer trying to absorb our surroundings and what we are hearing - eventually we stay there as long as we do, not wanting to let go - for fear if we accept what we are being told - we will begin to let go of them and all that they were to us...  I think all of these moments are simply a way of our brain "bracing us" for the horrible truth & facts, yes our brain fortunately will only allow it in, in very small doses, bits and pieces at a time..  


The first year after my 3 children died I think we are always preparing for the next "first" very much like a new parent - only these firsts are all so frightening...  Those "first" holidays - birthdays, anniversaries, milestones.. And then of course all the every day things that can knock the wind out of us as though we've been punched! The pictures, songs, foods, smells, opening of closets & bureau drawers or even the door to their room or home, all of the simplest of things that we will eventually recognize and call "grief triggers" - those things that can catapult us without any warning back into the depths of that black hole...  Finally, just as we begin to prepare ourselves for the first anniversary of our child going home to heaven, to earning their wings, yes, it's 365 days later and so many of us have this misconception that we will finally begin to feel just a little better, and then we realize - we won't..  Not yet - we still have a long way to go on the journey..

Although we will feel different as we move forward on the journey, because thankfully the depths of our grief will never return to those initial dark hours, days, weeks and months...  But understand, that grief is a journey and the first year is simply the worst and most frightening part of the journey...  But as time goes on, accept that this journey will continue.  Differently of course, but it does continue...  

Many moms who've traveled this journey before will softly warn "newly bereaved moms" not to be surprised if the second and third year of grief are actually more intense in a different way,  than that first year. It is different - because again remember when we look back on that first year it so often feels like a bad dream, a total foggy blur..  Even for moms and dads who returned to work soon after, when they look back later - most remember very little about that first year - our brains never allow us to relive excruciating pain of any kind - and the heartbreak of losing a child is the most excruciating pain we will ever endure... Furthermore, we can't imagine how we made it through, but we did!! 

In the second and subsequent years, the reality really sets in with a piercing, almost "stop your breath" intensity. Be prepared - this is normal - no you aren't going crazy - your heart is continuing to heal, it just takes time..  This pain of grief is simply the price we pay for loving our children as much as we do...  


Continue to be patient, loving and gentle with yourself as you stay the course and continue on your unique journey - it is a journey from mourning to joy and yes, eventually you will find peace and joy and a new normal that works for you....  In the meantime, know that you are in the thoughts and prayers of all your sisters in grief..  ~ Cherie Houston

Accepting My Child's Death; What this means to me

~ Written by Judy Bruner (sent to us for sharing by Sharon M Collingsworth – Montpellier, VT - who recently lost her 11 year son Matthew and said this gives her hope that she isn't going crazy - something most of us can certainly relate to..)

I am a mother who has lost a child. Because of my daughter's death in 1998, I have found the need to reach out to other parents who are also dealing with the loss of a child. I got an email from another "Angel Mom" whose son died two years ago, she was telling me about a trip to her doctor and discussing the meaning of acceptance. She had visited her doctor and told him of her depression. Like so many who do not understand the depth of pain that a parent lives with after a loss such as this, he asked her if she had "accepted" her son's death. She was very upset by this and told me in no uncertain terms that she would never, ever accept his death.
Having just recently made it through the 5th anniversary of my daughter's death, and being in tremendous pain myself in the recent months, I took the time to think about what acceptance meant to me. As the 5th year date approached I found myself in almost as much heart wrenching pain as I was when she first died. I was taken back to those last days of her life. Replaying the scenes over and over in my mind. Dwelling on all the "what-if's" and the "why's". Feeling the ripping out of my heart as the emergency room doctors told me that my child was gone from this earth.
Now having gotten myself through those painful days I feel as though I am back at where I started five years ago and am once again trying to find my way along this painful journey called grief. I have come to the conclusion of several things and would like to share what I have discovered.
I told my friend this: Sometimes it just hits. It's that time of year for me. I think it's better to cry, scream, yell, whatever it takes, than it is to stuff the pain inside and let it eat at you. It has to come out sometime, better now than later. We both know that it's a part of this journey, and we all go through those times.
I used to feel that if I accepted Ashleigh's death.....which for me meant to stop trying to find all the things that I should have done differently and to stop blaming myself and being angry that she was gone. I thought that if I accepted the fact that she was gone; then it meant that it was alright with me. That I no longer cared that she was gone from this earth.
I thought that if I began living again; eating, sleeping, taking care of myself, allowing myself moments of joy, and enjoying the life of my surviving child, then it would prove to the world that I had moved on. That I had forgotten Ashleigh and what her life meant to me.
I now know that those things are not at all true. For me acceptance means that I accept the fact that my daughter is not here anymore because I have no choice. But I do not have to like it! I accept the fact that my life is never going to be the same again because I cannot change it or bring her back. Everything is different now. Nothing is the same as it once was. I have to find a new normal.
I accept the fact that she was a wonderful, loving child, and I was lucky to have had her in my life! I accept the fact that the sun shone brighter, the grass was greener, the sky was bluer, and the air smelled fresher when Ashleigh was here.
I also accept the fact that it's okay to be sad and to feel the pain. This is the absolute worst loss that any human being ever has to face, and I am doing the very best I can dealing with it now. I have learned to take all the time I need to feel the sadness when it overcomes me. Over time, I will be okay. I just have to get through the valley of tears first. I accept that it's okay to miss her and to cry for her. After all, who decides how many tears are enough? There will never be enough tears to show how much I loved this child.
I have decided after five years, that it's also okay to find a way to live with all my feelings put together. That is the key. I do accept it, but I don't have to like it or be happy about it. I just have to do the best I can with what I have left and carry her with me as I move forward.

There are no road maps for this Journey through Grief

~ Written by T. Thomas

In the summer of 2008, I lost my only child to a fatal car accident. She would have turned 19 that September, if that one moment in time had not occurred.

How does one keep breathing, continue waking up every day when someone so dear is gone? I marvel each morning that I am still here, still opening my eyes to the beauty of the sunrise, to the wonder of the day. It always seems somehow simultaneously miraculous and wrong that I should still be on this earth and my daughter is not.

What maps are there for grief? What guideposts? Counseling – for me – was decidedly disappointing. Books are plentiful and occasionally helpful. Support, love, listening ears and solid hugs from friends and loved ones are priceless and welcome. But nothing changes what is. Nothing brings back the missing person.
The pain of all that is gone doesn’t stop.

Grief is a self-involving emotion. It pulls us down into the darkness of our own hearts and tends to exclude others. It is an injury to the soul that is generally not visible on the surface. We who grieve are the walking wounded, but our wounds are deep inside where the world cannot see.

Our culture dismisses grief. We get three days off from work for “bereavement,” as a general rule, and then we are supposed to be “over it,” and back to normal. Fortunately, my place of employment is filled with understanding friends who continue to support my challenges, but most people are not so lucky. The truth is, those who grieve do not get “over it” quickly. Depending on the loss a person suffers, it can be years – perhaps a lifetime – before the grief fades. What happens more surely is the pain “softens” a bit, but the soul’s wound may never fully heal.

Doctors, counselors and well-meaning acquaintances immediately suggested I take pills – anti-depressants – to help with the pain.  “I’m not depressed,” I explained, “I am grieving.”

But in today’s culture, there is no room for grief. We are told to take a pill and feel better. Drugs are intended to treat sickness – like clinical depression perhaps. Grief is not a sickness. Grief is a legitimate emotion that, if bottled up or drugged down, will find its way out eventually. And although I want very much to “feel better,” I need to feel this grief. I don’t want to be numbed and anesthetized. I need to miss my child, my funny girl, my best friend.  But it does hurt – all the time.

My mind fights reality. I want so badly to go back to that brief moment one sunny May morning and make something different happen, change some tiny detail that would alter the tragic outcome. But that is not possible.

We cannot change what happens to us. Life presents challenges, obstacles, tragedies over which we have no control. Feeling a loss of control can lead to a sense of powerlessness and bitterness, and true depression can take over where grief leaves off, if we let it. That’s where we do have control.

We can’t control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond. We have control over our actions, our goals, our words and deeds. In a nutshell, we can control who we become, and thereby control how (and if) we begin to heal our grief wounds.

Coming through grief is like struggling through an uncharted landscape. It is difficult and mostly unpleasant, with hills and valleys. As time passes, the hills are a bit higher, the valleys a bit less low. I focus on what I can control and try to become a better person. My daughter wants me to be happy – she said so often. And so I strive to be.

Grief is like a roller coaster ride...

~ by Cherie Houston

Each summer my husband Dan and I take our "8" young grandchildren to an amusement park for the day. Monday this week when I was waiting for them to experience the “untamed" a new roller coaster ride at their favorite park in New Hampshire, I made the comparison that our grief is just like that untamed beast of a roller coaster ride…

Over the years I’ve heard people refer to the “various stages of grief” that we must all go through on this journey through grief. When our first daughter died in 1971 within hours of being born, I can remember praying that I would just hurry up and get through the grief stages the funeral director had told me about, so that maybe I would feel better and would stop crying... Boy was I wrong… first of all – although the professionals have identified what the various stages are – they can’t tell us when we’ll go through each stage and they certainly can’t tell us how long each stage will last (and how many times we’ll go through each one)… You’ve heard of the “stages”…if not let me introduce them to you…

Denial: “This can’t be happening to me.”

Anger: “How could they do this”; “Why is this happening?; Who is to blame?”

Bargaining: “Make this not happen, and in return I promise to ____.”

Depression: “I’m too sad to do anything - I can't go on - the pain is overwhelming.”

Acceptance: “I’m at peace with what happened.”

Having gone through the deaths of my 3 children and several very close family members, I’ve decided that for me, my grief journeys have certainly been much more like that incredible roller coaster ride my grandkids just took - wild and unpredictable and each following a different pattern than the one before…(and I should mention that I totally dislike roller coaster rides)…

First, Grief, like a roller coaster, has countless ups & downs, highs & lows - each time you catch your breath and have a few good moments, WHAM there’s another totally unexpected twist or turn and you spiral - sometimes totally upside down.. Just like the "untamed" it seems as though we are simply going "up" as we enjoy the time preceeding the loss - yes the exhilaration of that part of the ride is exciting, wonderful and feels so very good and then when the death occurs - we plunge down - so quickly and feel as though the drop will never end, believing we too will die - but we don't and won't.

Second, Grief, like a roller coaster, tends to very frightening in the beginning - one moment life is great, you are on a high and then, just like the beginning of this "untamed" ride the bottom seems to fall out, death strikes and youdrop into an abyss-scared and you can't seem to catch your breath and it feels as though it's never going to end... But with time, those difficult periods seem to become less intense and shorter as time goes by…As I’ve said before when I’ve talked about moving forward and grief triggers, even many years after our child death, special events such as a family wedding or the birth of a child or grandchild, can create unexpected strong senses of renewed grief…

When our grand kids got off the ride – their emotions were over the place - scared, excited, sad, feeling a little sick to their stomach’s, one even fought back tears – but what was obvious to me is that they’d do it all over again… And I thought to myself, so wouldn’t I – as rough as the Grief Roller Caster ride is, I wouldn’t trade for a moment the time I had with my 3 children or family members who’ve died just to avoid the terrible way I felt when they did die...

So, as much as I dislike roller coaster rides and this journey through grief, they make me appreciate the exhilaration of the highs I had with each and every one of them while we were on the ride together…

APRIL SHOWERS

~Written by Beverly Mangum, TCF, Tri-County WV

And the rains came…they ceased, and they came again. The little memory I have of the time just after our son was killed is mostly that I thought I would never stop crying. There was no control and that would frustrate me, and I’d cry that much harder. My eyes were so swollen I had to ice them to see, and the crying, coupled with the inability to eat, dehydrated my body.

I could tell my crying only upset those around me, so I learned to cry when I was alone. Then I was able to take deep breaths and control some of the tears only to get a headache with my heartache. Gradually the crying eased up. It’s been a few months since I’ve had a really hard sit-down-and-sob crying spell. We try so hard to be strong and pent the emotions up, and then ‘wham-o’, the big one strikes. It is exhausting, but I think the release can be good.

At last month’s meeting we had a new Mother – the word “fresh” kept coming up as we each tried to console her. It was “fresh” for her – her son was killed the month prior. Her presence and emotions brought back for each of us those first months. The anger, the denial, the unanswered questions, the tears – none of us would want to relive those days again, but we all did with her at that meeting. No one can tell you that you’ll be just wonderful again, but you will slowly get better. The fact that this “fresh” Mother and the others who continue to come to the meetings was a sign of strength.

It takes a strong brave soul to admit that she could use some HELP. The person that reaches out for comfort is the one that will mend. We are not crazy, we have not done anything wrong, and we are not being punished. The death of a child – no matter what age, no matter what cause – is the hardest thing to happen to a parent, and to seek compassion and support is the healthiest thing we can do for ourselves. We have been there, we know what you feel, and we understand, and we do care – that’s why we’re called The Compassionate Friends!

One of the subjects we discussed was the things that pop up out of the blue that bring on an emotional reaction. A son, a daughter, a situation, a similar looking person or expression, a TV show, a word – it’s like a bomb dropped on your head! It hits hard – when you least expect it – and it hurts. Even when the death of a parent, relative, friend or someone we don’t even know occurs – it all comes back again. As one Mother so well said – you take each moment as you go along and to the best that you can.

There are days I feel I’ve gained or done nothing, and there are days I actually make some headway. I may not always do as much as I did before, but when I have a good day, I try to make the most of it. I don’t know how much earthly time I have left, but I’m not going to let it go to waste. It’s not how much time we have left, but the quality of the time given to us. No one will make it for us – we must do that on our own.

A new view of grieving

No doubt since the death of our child, someone has been kind enough to share with us that we must all go through the “normal stages of grief” and then kindly list them for us.… These “stages” were defined as a result of many studies, but the most popular seemed to be based on Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's which resulted in her book: On Death and Dying (Scribner), which was published in 1969.

Although much of that is probably still true, more recent research seems to suggest – as we very well know from experience, that for most people, grieving is rarely a straight passage through discrete phases ending in healing.

To those of us who have gone thru this, we know that this grief journey is a constantly changing pattern, that seems to jump out at us when we least expect it, catch us off guard and then retreat again for brief periods of time, allowing us to catch our breath, some say it's like a roller coaster ride and others compare it to one of those scary houses we may walk thru in a carnival - but no matter how it is described, we often feel as though we have no control over our own reactions....

I came across the following article and I want to share it with you because I think it helps to validate how grief really feels – not nice and neat in a fixed set of “stages” like those we heard about when we got pregnant – but the reality of what we feel and experience. Cherie Houston

Dr. Holly Prigerson states that grief it tends to occur in fits and starts, sometimes quickly, sometimes over a number of years. The way it unfolds varies dramatically, too, depending on whom you've lost and the nature of your relationship. Perhaps more surprising, research suggests that whomever a person is grieving for—a well-loved parent, spouse, friend or child—human beings are surprisingly resilient.

Holly Prigerson, Ph.D., is the director of the Center for Psycho-Oncology and Palliative Care Research at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston, and as a result of a study she has done with hundreds of mourners, she discovered that while nearly all people go through a very rough period where they cry, long for the loved one, have difficulty eating and can't concentrate, 85 percent start feeling somewhat better in about six months. Even more hopeful, there are steps everyone can take to help the recovery process along, regardless of whom you're missing.

A new view of grieving - Like life itself, grief isn't something that unfolds neatly, starting on cue with denial and continuing until the mourner reaches the final stage, accepting that the person is gone. In Dr. Prigerson’s two-year study of mourners, Prigerson found that rather than denial or anger, most mourners feel an acute sense of yearning and sadness throughout that fades and eases as time passes.

"There's no orderly progression of Kübler-Ross's hypothetical phases," Prigerson confirms. "It's more accurate to say that the emotions associated with grief exist simultaneously, then slowly decline as feelings of acceptance rise," she explains.