51. A Survival Kit
They say that couples, like branches on a family tree, often break apart after the death of a child. I have looked closely at the statistics, and the numbers do not support this belief. It is apparently an urban legend of sorts. But it’s true we grieve deeply and alone in so many ways, and our grief can so weight us down that we do not pay adequate attention to our loved ones.
I have also read that we mirror the sorrow of our spouse, sharply reflecting the pain, forcing us to look away. I don’t believe this is true either. I saw Linda’s pain. I wanted to reach out to her in any way I could. Her pain was mine.
Fortunately Linda’s confidence continued to grow during the fifth year. Rooted in her own struggle, she was now convinced she should create a survival kit for others, orderly, tucked in, numbered. She was right. And she did. Here it is:
How have I survived?? I often
wonder about that. I stand outside of myself and say “How is this person still
living and breathing?” I am amazed it is me that has gone through this
excruciating trauma and come out on the other end, a changed but whole person.
Here are some reasons that come to mind.
1. I am sure Jonathan would not
forgive me if I stayed in that place of constant sorrow and deep pain. He loved
life and wanted everyone around him to love life with him. My reentry into life
has been with Jonathan by my side, coaxing me slowly but surely.
2. I must go on and do things
that keep Jonathan’s memory alive. It gives me pleasure to give a social
justice scholarship in his name at the university, to work on the board of an
organization that battles addiction or simply to help newly bereaved parents at
Compassionate Friends. It gives me pleasure to talk about Jonathan to people
who knew him and to people who did not. It gives me pleasure to remember
Jonathan and to think about all the wonderful times. All of this keeps his
memory alive.
3. I am still a mother and must
show Jeremy that our lives, though changed, will go on and be productive and
happy. He too will help keep Jonathan’s memory alive and will carry the happy
memories of his brother with him forever.
4. Parental grieving is hard
work and takes a very long time. It is a job forever. It zaps your energy and
strength and makes you feel like you are going crazy. The world goes on but you
are outside of it and for you, the world has stopped. I often feel that I got
off the spinning world for 3 or 4 years and when I slowly inched my way back
on, everything had changed. I felt like I was in a foreign country. But life
pulls you back in and you find yourself feeling some of those old feelings of
joy. Maybe they are not as intense as before but they are there.
5. Before
Jonathan’s death, things just seemed to work out. Our life was on a good path,
we were lucky. When something was particularly worrisome, it seemed to turn out
ok. I looked around me and saw tragedy hitting other families, but I was sure
that it would not hit ours. After Jonathan’s death, things are different - I am
different. Certainly, my priorities have changed. I understand that much of
life is out of my control and I do not worry as much. Other things are just not
that important and must be addressed with much less thought. I think I am a
more compassionate and less judgmental person. I am more patient. I know if I
am feeling sad and stuck, this will change and will get better. When I was at
the beginning of my journey in this new life, I did not think I would ever come out of the darkness.
6. Time does help. Our pain
gets less intense and more manageable. We learn how to manage the bad times and
take advantage of the good. We learn to accept the sadness of holidays and
special occasions and how to appreciate the gift when we are surprised by joy.
We learn how to put the pain and sorrow away and take it out in small pieces
rather than all at once. We learn how to remember the wonderful times with our
children and to smile when we are thinking about them. The bitterness and anger
begin to fade, perhaps to return again and again but with less intensity and
for shorter periods of time. Our sorrow will never go away and we will never
stop missing our children, but they are as much a part of our new lives as they
were of the old, but now in a different way.
02/14/05
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