And, so, here were are still, with posts about this issue, started under other post names, titled something/anything other than that original post from the woman, "brl", who simply thought we were thinking, feeling people who understood...loss.
Tom, pony up. I am forever grateful that you started this venue for those of us with unbelievable grief. But, there is a part of me, that part of me that recognizes who I was before our family lost Owen, that screams out, "hold us here, all suffering loss!" And, I find myself...wanting. And, I plead for your engagement in a way that can assuage some of the angst voiced in anger and bitterness. Of all the people who have posted in the months I have visited this site, Tom, you have been the most silent. Why is that? Are you, perhaps, too distant from this thing you started, but have no time to monitor?
Perhaps, those of you who want to have a territorial boundary around child loss, as something "more than" can't allow emotional death into your territory. For you, I am sorry. And, here's why.
I lost a friendship in 2003, a friend who meant the world to me for 38 years. She did not die a physical death, nor did I. I did, however, lose her in an emotional death. I could not then, nor can I now, describe the pain her loss caused me.
Her husband continually expressed his abhorrence of my stature (at the time, I was 5'7" tall, and weighed around 215 pounds). This did not fit his image of friends he thought his wife should engage, as physical beauty meant something different to him, than friendship did, for my friend and me. He forgot that she and I had spent the previous 38 years sharing life (long before they met). When our friendship ended (Owen was still alive, and thought this loss was devastating - he watched his mother (me) lose a friendship that was very close to sisterhood), our entire family was devastated. Cheryl was a part of our family. And, we lost her due to a lack of "acceptance" on the part of her husband.
As I read through these recent posts (not here, but elsewhere on webhealing, all pertaining to "brl" and her quest for help), I am saddened by what I perceive as a group of people with EXTREME loss, trying (or not even aware) of "cornering the market" on pain.
Parents of child loss do not hold the reigns of loss. WE only hold the reigns of child loss. It's different. It's excruciating. It's unbelievably hard. AND, there's a whole world out there, that suffers loss in different manifestations.
Part of my training, a large part of my career, is teaching people about difference. Something I say over and over is this: You cannot imagine what your friends, family, and coworkers experience in this life. If you think you can place a value on it, you are limiting your ability to engage in the remainder of YOUR life. Bitterness is unlikely to ever serve you or those you love.
When I first read (many months ago) of your difficulties with many phrases that are a part of our American vernacular, out of "common usage" I almost left this site in search of a more "accepting" venue for my grief. How can I stop using phrases like, "I'm drowning in sorrow"? Because my son was found dead in a river? NO. I AM DROWNING IN SORROW. But, feeling that, does not mean that I can't acknowledge that my son's body was found in a river, lost forever, except for my exceptional memories of his life. Words can hurt, and I feel many words here in these recent days, have hurt more than necessary. I feel some of the words I've read have come from a place of bitterness and anger, that couldn't possibly help anyone.
I may or may not check in here again. Curiosity killed the cat, though (and if your child was killed by a cat, I hope you can forgive me, but my everyday language uses this phrase as a way to express a certain sentiment), so I may come back, just to see how everyone is getting along...or not.
Yes, I'm mad right now. I'm mad that a place I thought of as "safe" is now a place where people choose to quantify the loss of a loved one. I'm open to befriending someone who has the chance of regaining a lost relationship. Why aren't you? We can't get our kids back, but brl has a chance. Why can't we honor her hope with love and admiration for her loss, and her search for resources to recover her relationships? Why would anyone want to make her feel she's an outsider?
Loss is loss. It hurts. I hurt. You hurt. All of you who have responded to our story, hurt. brl hurts. Offer her something/anything. Offer her your thoughts, feelings, prayers. She has a chance to build relationships with her stepchildren (or former stepchildren, as the case may be). It seems that some of you think her short time with them is in some way measurable and comparable. THERE IS NO COMPARISON. STOP TRYING TO MAKE THIS ABOUT COMPARISONS. This woman, brl, simply...hurts. Have you forgotten the hopes you had for your children before they died?
Pissed off, AND, hoping we all see the light,
Linda