I can no longer care for him in the manner I did before. I now need to figure out how to still be his mom.
Losing the life of my son is life-altering as I miss him, and I also miss my future as a mother – loving and taking care of him as my son. I no longer can care for him in the manner I did before. I no longer can give him a hello hug when I see him and tell him, “I love you” when we say goodbye. I can no longer take him grocery shopping, give him gifts, make him a birthday cake, take him on trips, give him advice, nurture him when he is sick. I can no longer have philosophical and political discussions with him. I can no longer have conversations around the kitchen island with him. There we would share the music we loved and YouTube clips from late night talk shows that made us laugh or sparked a philosophical conversation because they were controversial. I will not be able to celebrate his wedding, help him move into a home, and care for and love his children.
I now need to figure out how to still be his mom.
The strain on Life and Loss-Oriented Grief
It is common for family and friends to expect a “return to normal.” This expectation can cause the grieving family to be cut off from their social circles and become isolated.
Gone with my son is the quality of life I had envisioned for his father, his sister, and me, his mother. The realism of this is overwhelming. I have been reading medical literature on grief from the loss of a child. It says that intense grief will last at least four years, with ongoing grief in perpetuity in waves. This is now our future.
The medical literature indicates it is common for family and friends to expect a “return to normal.” This expectation can cause the grieving family to be cut off from their social circles and become isolated. Friends and family feel uncomfortable being around those for whom a “return to normal” is impossible. It is better to acknowledge the loss and grief than to do a “gloss over.” I know this is difficult, but it is so hard sometimes just to chit-chat like nothing has happened, especially during a prolonged conversation, like at a sit-down dinner. My son and my grief over his loss consume my life, and I cannot think or experience much else at this time.
Among the secondary mental health risks for the grieving family are long-term depression, anxiety, plus physical health symptoms such as headaches, stomach aches, neck and backaches, and other body pains. All of which may occur from carrying the burden of grief. It appears I am not alone here in experiencing these symptoms.
I do not want to work through this. He deserves to have me feel this grief and guilt.
In one of my earlier blogs, I wrote about guilt, the feeling we failed to protect our child. Research indicates this is a common experience for the parents who have lost a child. It is not unique to me, not something I alone am working through. This is common, and this is what I feel. I do not want to work through these feelings; I want to live with them, experience them, because I love him, and he deserves to have us feel this grief and guilt.
Coping with the Spiritual Loss - Stories of His Life
I also want to keep him current in the lives of his family and friends. I am trying to figure out how to still care for him in this new future.
While dealing with my loss-oriented grief, I also want to keep him current in the lives of his family and friends. I am trying to figure out how to still care for him in this new future. I have read this is common, that it helps us as parents to retain our identity as parents of one loved and lost. I continually place fresh flowers at his grave site, splitting the bouquet with his friend who lies right next to him. I have printed every picture I can find of our son and placed each one in an album. His room is still like it was when he lived at home the year prior. I cannot give anything away.
I have been writing. I write to my son almost every day. At first, I was trying to figure out why; to learn and to understand him, to document his last days in a dialogue format. Now I mostly share what I miss. I write stories of my memory of him. I have read that keeping these memories alive provides a spiritual connection, maintains a continuous bond that honors him.
There are hundreds of pictures on Facebook of his time with his friends. They were his world as he grew older. Go through the pictures you have of him. There is a story. There are stories where there are no pictures. I have asked friends, coaches, employers, and extended family to write stories of their time with him. Some have, and they are beautiful.
Surely, dear family and friends, there are more…
I want to know the things he said, the things you did together, the times that made you love him. The stories can be big or small, funny or meaningfully deep, from the time when he was little, or more recent. Write them as you think of him. Share small pieces at a time. Please do this sharing now, so we can connect and experience him in your world before you move on in your life and further away from your time with him.
I am not implying that you will forget my son and your memories. This request is about sharing that you miss him and how and why you are struggling, and for what you are longing. This tells me you loved him too. Your remembrances are a way to connect us that we will have for the rest of our lives. Your stories will settle deep within our souls. And, you will receive love and appreciation back from us, your readers.
I have shared my contact information on my Facebook posts with links (look through my timeline or my son’s). You can contact me through the Contact tab on my blog or in the comments section of any post.
