Loving Deeply means Grieving Deeply

I was at The Compassionate Friends of America National Conference to be a speaker. I was not there for myself, or at least that’s what I thought. My husband Aaron and I arrived the day before the conference officially began and registered with a friendly lady who gave us the program and lanyards. All of a sudden I couldn’t see. The woman was blurry in front of me. I blinked long and hard. Aaron looked at me, “Are you alright?”

“Fine, I’m fine,” I said but my voice caught in my throat…

The opening ceremony was the next morning. “What’s wrong with me?” I asked Aaron. All of a sudden my eyes started leaking again. This time my chest heaved as I tried to muffle my weeping. “This is so embarrassing,” I said, but as I looked around I saw that no one cared and actually a few other people were dabbing their eyes.

Crying is not wrong. Expressing emotion is healthy.

Sitting in the conference, I couldn’t understand my body; I no longer cried for Zachary every day. Most days I simply think about him and smile. Of course I miss him and wish he was with me, but I don’t become over-the-top emotional anymore except on his birthday and death-day. So why was I having such a huge reaction to being at the conference?

The only thing I could come up with for an explanation was that daily life leaves little time for reflection. There are the two mini-humans that wake me up every morning, mouths to feed, floors to clean afterwards, emails to answer, work to be done, errands, relationships, exercise, sleep… And it seems people are always trying to cram in more; how can we be efficient with what we have so that we can also accomplish XYZ?

In some ways, all this distraction is good. We need to immerse ourselves in life eventually after our child has died. Life is our full-time occupation on this earth. It’s what we do.

At the same time, busyness can prevent slow, intentional reflection. I think that’s what happened to me during the opening ceremony. I was sitting, still, and listening to the main speaker (Alan Pedersen) talk about the loss of a child and the grieving process. Thus I thought about the death of my son and in that safe environment where tears were not viewed as weakness, they all poured out of me.

 

Here are some of the points from Alan Pedersen’s speech that hit home with me:

 

The child that died is only part of our story – the other part is that they lived.

 

We love to a degree we never imagined and thus we also grieve to a degree we never imagined.

 

Here we can be the Moms and Dads that we are.

 

The love didn’t die.

 

It’s okay to be your child’s parent as long as you live, not as long as your child lived.

 

You cannot intellectualize grief.

 

The grief is the love.

 

The world wants drive-through grief therapy.

 

The only expert on your grief is you.

 

I hope these thoughts will encourage you as you slow your heart to think about your child – even if it is only once in a while because that’s all you can handle. There is no drive-through grief therapy. Just when you think you are okay, like me, you may find yourself with your head in your hands. Remember: It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to continue deeply missing your child after years upon years of distance from the loss. It’s okay to be vulnerable, to express yourself and to take time to be with your memories.