50 Years Grieving the Death of a Child
Clare lost a child suddenly over 50 years ago and is still grieving and emotional. As a tour director on extended tours I am honoured when my passengers share their lives with me by telling their special stories.
Our tour group had been together now for 8 days and was beginning to have a “team” if not ‘family’ feel to it. My job as tour director was challenging as I had a diverse group of passengers, aged from 55+ to 84, from Australia, Canada, The Netherlands and the USA. Fortunately, they were all English-speakers.
Clare and Charles were a delightful, polite and quiet couple, among the oldest in the group. Clare had a sparkle in her eye that I later discovered belied the pain and grief she carried with her constantly.
We were on the stunning train trip from Christchurch, New Zealand, to Arthur’s Pass which one of the most scenic train journeys in the world. As it is a two and a half hour journey, I find it’s a great time to move around the carriage and chat to the quieter members of the group. As chance would have it, I was sitting across the aisle from Clare. When the more gregarious Charles moved outside to the viewing car, Clare leaned over and asked me how many children I had. This question I have found means “I want to tell you about my children”.
Clare and Charles have one daughter, whose husband passed away when their 2 children were quite young. The whole family spent many years grieving the loss. Clare told me how proud she was of how her daughter has raised the children on her own, and how now, 15 years later she has finally “met” someone.
But she that wasn’t what she wanted to tell me.
She took a deep breath, her eyes became moist and she told me “That wasn’t the greatest sadness in our lives though”. As tears welled in both our eyes, she told me that they had had another daughter who was killed by a hit and run driver right outside of their home when the child was just 7 years old. She was killed instantly. Clare still found this incredible, that her little girl was playing happily one minute, and then gone forever.
I am sure there was no grief counseling back in the 1950s when this terrible accident took place. And even if it was, I am not sure if it would have diminished Clare’s pain. There is an adage that “a problem shared is a problem halved”. If the same applies to grief, then I am honoured that Clare shared what was “just beneath the surface” with me.
If you, or someone close to you, is carrying the pain of the loss of a child (whether the death occurred last week or 50 years ago), the following resources may be of some comfort:
Coping With Grief: Childhood Death
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Post CommentSandra Petersen
On October 7, 2007 at 6:39 am
This article resonated with me. We lost our almost three month old daughter fifteen years ago. Her death was attributed to the cover-all term SIDS. I was the one who tried to wake her from her sleep, a memory I will never forget.
I thank the Lord that He has healed much of the pain and kept my husband and I together. Losing one of your own children is one of the most painful things a person could ever bear.
Good article.
Cathy
On November 4, 2007 at 10:04 pm
My daughter died from complications of Chron’s. People don’t die from Chron’s… My Jessica died at 25..4 Months before her wedding day. We are all so very lost.The world is not as sunny as it used to be. She was a teacher and a giver and those that knew her will never be the same.
I know the pain of Charles and Clare,,I will grief to my grave.
Reese
On May 18, 2008 at 12:16 am
My husband and I lost our daughter at twenty-four weeks on January twenty-eighth of this year. I don’t know if the hurt we feel will ever fade, but reading this and your responses has given me hope that life can and will go on. Thank you all for posting, for sharing something so hard and deep that so few people go through – and that even fewer discuss when they do.
There need to be more support groups out there for people like us. I don’t know of any in my area and I’ve been looking. I’ve been in therapy pretty much since the death of our child in utero, and while that’s helped greatly, talking to others who have been through this in a live, real, person-to-person setting would be, I think, more theraputic.
Still, thank you for sharing your stories, your experience, your strength, and your hope.
Reese
Wanda Howard
On January 5, 2009 at 4:11 pm
Thank You Clare for sharing your heart with me. I too am a bereaved mother. On December 29 2007 I lost my 23 year old daughter Miranda Travis in a 14 month battle with cancer also 14 months earlier my daughter lost her only daughter and my only grand daughter also fell victim to this disease, these events changed my life forever out of this my community now has a grief support group for parents, grandparents and children, all the memory keepers have had a child die, I have found out that there are nothing these parents can not accomplish.
Kerry Anne Finch
On January 6, 2009 at 4:05 pm
Oh Wanda, my heart goes out to you, especially at this time of the year. The first anniversary of your daughter’s passing must have been an incredibly sad time for you. I am pleased that your support group is active and is giving you inspiration.
JoAnna Yoder, Ph.D.
On January 22, 2009 at 6:16 pm
For me, it has been fifteen and a half years since my precious 15-year-old daughter, Allison, was killed. The pain is just as raw as it was then. Time Is marked by before and after. I have become agoraphobic – a recluse. I have found that the “5 stages of grief” that are suppose to guide one along the path of healing do not aid in healing. For one thing, they omit one of the most profound emotions experienced during grieving: Yearning. I understand that this website is intended to be healing and inspirational;, yet, many of us do not heal. Yes, we may go on day to day. Our lives; however, are not lived the way others live their lives. Many of us simply go through the motions – do what we must to care for our families, make life possible. But to us, life continues to be a dark and dreary place that we inhabit, never experiencing anything meaningful nor affirming. Therapists need to understand our plight and stop the uplifting “You must lift yourself up and go on” therapies. They must deal with the realities of our existances, acknowledge tham and help us to face what we are truly feeling so there is a possibility of healing. Mothers must also stop putting on the brave faces and admit to what they are truly feeling. I know I cannot be the only mother wallowing in the muck of grief the way I am. I would love to be able to experience some semblance of normalacy again – I simply do not know how. I am also am atheist. I do not believe in God (and no, this didn’t occur after Allison’s death. I have belive this way my entire life. I also do not believe in life after death. The entire concept is simply not logical. A celestial spirit who watches over all and affects all? A celestial place where the spirits of the dead reside? Makes NO sense. Believe me, after I lost Allison, I read everything I could get my hands on about religion, the afterlife, etc. No matter what, none of it made any sense, even though I desperately wanted to believe. I just couldn’t make myself believe. It was all just too absurd. My point in this rant is simply this: There has to be some type of therapeutic remedy developed that can truly help the bereaved, particularly those of us who have lost a child, which teaches us to manage our grief and other emotions so that we can become functional in our daily lives. We are wives, mothers, co-workers, professionals. People need us. We need to find a way to go on withoutdismissing our loss nor our love.
Carol Pollack
On May 26, 2009 at 9:28 pm
I am also an atheist. I lost my son David in December, 2008. He died of a heart attack at 27 years old. Dave was my rock; a loving, brilliant, extraordinary young man who influenced everyone he came in contact with. My life will never be the same. As an atheist I believe each of our lives is precious and valuable, although I would gladly have given my life for my son’s. Unfortunately, that is not the way our lives unfolded. The reality is that Dave had a problem with his heart that was not detected and he died. I, my husband, and our beautiful son Joe are still alive. We are having to redefine who we are. This is not the life we wanted. We all strongly believe that we would dishonor the memory of Dave if we didn’t try to live the fullest, happiest lives we can. It is a daily struggle – one that I don’t always win, but I will try every day to make David proud of the way I conduct myself.