photo by Norma Thatcher
I wonder why we are so surprised by death. Every single person alive at this moment will eventually die. Your chance, and mine, of living on this earth forever is literally (and I mean that in the truest sense of the word) non-existent.
Yet we continue to be caught off-guard when we learn of the passing of someone we know.
Most of us have lost someone close to us—if not immediate family, then extended family or friends. Death is not the stranger we would like him to be.
We hope for long and happy lives for all those whom we love and for ourselves. I myself want to go the way Jack predicted to Rose in the movie Titanic: “You’re gonna die an old…old lady, warm in her bed.”
But death catches some at earlier ages. Today is the third anniversary of the accidental death of a friend’s 23-year old son. Having lost my own son Tim nearly eight years ago when he was 22, I know first-hand this worst kind of grief—the death of a child.
There is nothing that prepares you for the death of your child. While you can come through it, there is no “getting over” it. You are forever a changed person.
I have witnessed this tragedy alienate moms and dads from other people. Others who have not experienced this loss may not know how to act. They don’t know what to say or do, so sometimes they keep silent and away.
I’m not so presumptuous to believe I speak on behalf of bereaved parents everywhere. But from close relationships with over a dozen moms like me, here’s some of what we need, even as, especially as, the years pass:
- Say our child’s name out loud. “Zane never failed to make me laugh at his jokes.”
- Share stories about our child. “I remember the time Kristin….”
- Let us know you remember our child’s birthday. It’s still a special day to us.
- Show that you honor the day our child died by sending a “thinking of you” card or by calling to talk in person.
We want to hear that the life of our child, regardless of how short a life, mattered to others.
Sometimes I find the most inspirational words in ordinary places. When I was fact-checking a prior post on Muir Woods, I came across a section on the importance of dead trees.
The National Park Service used to remove fallen trees to reduce fire threat. Then it was discovered how vital dead trees are for on-going life. Those that fall to the forest floor become
- a shelter for insects and animals
- a source of nutrients
- an incubator of sorts for young seedlings
Those trees that fall into the water create
- a more diverse habitat
- a screen to capture debris
- a way to help reduce flooding
The section closes by saying, “The importance of a tree does not diminish after it has stopped living.”
What more profound statement can we find about remembering our loved ones who have gone on before us…recalling often their importance, their impact, on our own continuing lives?
To my readers: Share with us how a loved one no longer in this world still impacts your life.
