Grieving Children of All Ages: Reflections on the Walk to Remember, Chicago

My husband Aaron and I recently attended a Walk to Remember in Chicago as a part of The Compassionate Friends of America National Conference. (I will write more about the conference and the workshop I presented, Healing through Visual Art, in upcoming blog posts.) Something different about The Compassionate Friends, their conference and Walk from what I have previously experienced is their focus on the loss of children – and siblings – of all ages.

Sometimes I get very stuck in my own experience of losing a baby that I don’t always reflect on the parents who lose an older or even adult child.

I do frequently think about my living children and fear for their safety, but to be honest up until this conference I had not contemplated at length all the grieving families that say goodbye to a child beyond the age of a newborn. It’s sobering to think about. It freaks me out actually and also makes my heart thud just a little heavier. I met so many people at the conference that were there celebrating their children who they knew for 5 years, fifteen years, twenty-five years…

While I love my baby Zachary with all my heart, I did not have the pleasure of getting to know his personality, see him grow out of his baby fat and into his own skin, or see him make friends, go to school, fall in love… I am envious of all these families that had those opportunities. At the same time, I do feel the weight of their grief differently. That is not to compare sorrows, but just to say that it is different from my own.

The Walk to Remember events I have attended in the past have been solemn and quiet, longing for lives unrealized. This Walk to Remember in Chicago included families of deceased children of all ages and because of this, it was more of a celebration of life. The distinction was powerful and potent.

Most people wore the Walk t-shirts and many silkscreened pictures of their child to the front or back fabric. Participants were given race tags to pin to their shirts with space to write the name of who we were walking for that day. As we did the walk, volunteers directed us at each turn of the route through the hotel district where the conference was being held. These volunteers chatted happily to the participants and wore smiles from ear to ear. “Thanks for walking today!” they said. One female volunteer gave everyone high fives as they passed her.

The positivity was wildly encouraging. It was a notable shift.

All this makes me reflect on Wanted, Chosen, Planned. From now on I am going to make every effort to speak to a broader community of loss. The blog’s tagline is, “Life after the loss of a child,” and I wish that to be an all inclusive statement.

Something I always say is, “We are stronger together.” I believe that with all my heart – and know it spans the loss of a baby in miscarriage all the way up to the death of an adult child. There is so much we may learn from each other and a tremendous amount of strength to be shared.

To all my readers, I apologize if I have not yet spoken to your loss. Please email me about what you are going through so I can speak/write to the encouragement you need. Also, to my readers: thank you. Thank you for sticking with me though the hard times, for commenting and sharing your journey. I have cherished our emails, coffee dates and every one of our virtual interactions. You are brave. You are strong. You encourage me every day. Thank you.

Hugs & love,

Alexis Marie

 

For my many Canadian readers, click here for The Compassionate Friends of Canada.