When You Lose a Child…

I heard someone say, that grief isn’t a life sentence, it’s a life passage. It’s the one common human experience we all have at one time or another. But we didn’t expect it to be the death of a child, did we? If you’re reading this, it’s likely you’ve lost a child or been affected by the loss of a child. You’re now discovering grieving is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

I know, because suddenly, without warning, my life changed. My beautiful 16-year-old son came home from school complaining of a headache and a fever. The doctor diagnosed him with the flu. But it wasn’t. Sometime during the night, my boy was taken from me forever. I found him the next morning in his bed, lifeless. The misdiagnosis was actually a swift and deadly form of bacterial meningitis.

Have you ever felt such incredible emotion as losing your child? It’s an unimaginable loss, feared by all parents. Unimaginable, until it happens to you. People refer to it as “the worst that can happen,” and that’s exactly what it feels like.

In the years following my son’s death, I discovered, that no matter how great my loss, or how deep my grief, the world does not stop.

In the years following my son’s death, I discovered, that no matter how great my loss, or how deep my grief, the world does not stop. In fact, it intensifies.

I remember thinking… how can I ever be happy again? I felt as though my pain was visible to others, and I would forever be wearing grief as a mask and a tagline…”I’m Sandy Peckinpah and I’ve lost a child.”

Then, a friend gave me a journal, and said, “Write, just write.” The first blank page was so difficult. I could only put down one sentence, “My son died and my life will never be the same.” The next day, I wrote a paragraph, and each day after that I found words came more easily. My journal became my safe haven to empty the well of my sorrow, pouring tears of ink onto paper. And for a little while, I could let my emotions rest.

I had to survive this. I had three living children who needed a whole mother. I was not willing to sacrifice my role in their lives by succumbing to paralyzing grief. I kept writing. Words pulled me and pushed me. As weeks went on, I’d read back over the journal entries. I began to see something remarkable… I’d survived another day, another week, another month; and I was growing stronger. I’d see words of hope illuminating my way.

There’s no magic secret to the journal. Just pick up a pen and begin with one word or sentence. Keep writing.

Healing is not on a timetable. In fact, time doesn’t fix this kind of loss.

Healing comes from actively pursuing life again. After a while, you’ll look back over your words and not recognize the person you once were. You’ll see how strong you really are.

I used to believe the cliché “everything happens for a reason,” but with this kind of tragedy, I learned it seems to be the reverse. When a tragedy like this happens, it can be the starting place to give it reason and relevance. When you recognize this, it’s the moment your grieving will shift.

Imagine that. What would it feel like? I used to fantasize and picture my life without the pain by writing out that very question, What would it be like to feel peace around Garrett’s death? I would visualize myself without the veil of sorrow and allow the comfort of happiness to flow in. And for a brief moment, I could feel it. As time went on, I was able to reach that peaceful feeling more frequently. I had the power within the pages of my journal to compartmentalize my sorrow. Once you’re aware of what it feels like, you’ll be able to access it more easily.

It’s been decades since my beautiful son left this earth and sometimes the tears will surprise me. But the work of healing has brought me a harmonious blend of resolution and comfort as my heart joyfully connects with the sweet ballad of his memories. Healing doesn’t mean you’ll never feel the sadness. It means you’ll be able to have memories without attaching intense despair.

Use your journal as your safe place, and you’ll begin to form a new relationship with your child, telling stories, and feeling the joy you once had when they were alive.

His death was the birth of my new life

I now look at the life of my son and marvel at the 16 years, 3 months, and 10 days. He was the first to call me. His death was the birth of my new life… learning to live with his loss, and recognizing who I am because of it. I chose resilience and my journal was a big part of helping me rise up.

My child’s loss taught me to love harder and appreciate every single day. It taught me to reach out to others and begin sharing my story in hopes it could reassure other wounded parents there is life after loss.

As the years go by, I’ve learned a mother’s love never diminishes; in fact, my love for my son has grown just as it would if he was still alive. I am still his mother.

No child dies without a legacy and a purpose for those who are left behind.

It’s up to you. Honor your child by healing. They wouldn’t want it any other way. If you or someone you know has struggled with loss, please consider sharing this article. For more on surviving the loss of a child, my book, How to Survive the Worst That Can Happen is a parent’s step-by-step guide for healing.

Are you a woman wondering if it’s possible to live the life you dream? I’d like to give you this free email course, Breakthrough to Living a Magnificent Resilient Life. It could be just what you’re looking for. It’s simply 10 days, receiving 10 emails that will take you just 10 minutes to enlighten, activate, and move you forward with reaching your potential for the life you’ve dreamed. No webinars to attend, no calls, just emails to provide you with some thought-provoking actionable steps. If you’re a woman looking for some inspiration, Click here to sign up. It’s free and with no obligation.

**Previously published on Medium.com**