Someone asked me the other
day if I felt I was "totally healed" from my child's death. I asked
them to define healed. I asked if someone does heal, is there scars?
I asked if the scars had a thin layer of skin, or thick. They didn't
know what to say. It got me thinking of so many things.
I remember the first few months and
years after my child died. I wasn't healed. I didn't have a
scar. I had an open bleeding sore that would not begin to heal.
But am I healed today? Again, I would want the word healed described
for a bereaved parent.
I've talked to other parents who
lost a child long ago like I have. We discussed what the years have
done to us, how we have coped, and how we survive. Not all of us
feel that we are healed. Losing a child causes not only inner scars,
but outer ones that we try to hide. I still today will get choked
up when I see a newly bereaved parent fall apart. It still gets to
me when certain days come that I know are going to bring back a lot of
memories. For me, memories are always just under the surface of who
I am.
Some ask me if holidays, birthdays,
etc, are easier now. Yes, some are easier, but then again, that all
depends. I still never know when one will hit me in the stomach and
punch my heart and rip open the scar that has not healed totally.
I had a bereaved mom tell me that she can't "go there", can't "dwell" on
the past, can't put herself in that position. And I think to myself......no,
maybe you can't look at things, and perhaps you've put your child's photos
up where you feel the pain won't be as bad looking at them daily, but I'll
never believe any parent does not "go there."
For me, I guess the word time would
have to come into how I've survived. My child will be gone 28 years
this fall. I keep saying "28 years, how is that possible?"
Because it never seems like it's been that long. Sometimes I feel
it's like when we are teenagers and want to be 21 and it seems to take
30 years to get there, and once there, we see 30 and 40 popping up on us
in no time. Time speeds up and it slows down, depending on the individual.
For me, it does not seem possible my child died 28 years ago. And
then I think, how have I got this far down the road? I think about
the years I couldn't control the tears. I think about all the Holidays
I have been so sad. I think of what my life could have been like
had he lived. I think about the past, and I think about the future
I missed out on.
So have I healed? If someone
can have a tragedy happen in their lives, and get past the pain and move
on and forget what happened, I'd call that healed. Therefore, I guess
I have not healed. I can't forget the past. I can't forget
the feeling of those little arms hugging my neck and those smoochy kisses
when he'd say "I wuv you mom, forever and ever." I can't forget the
Christmas's and the happiness his little face showed when he got something
he asked Santa for. I can't forget his birthday. And God knows,
I can't forget the day he died.
I once never dreamed I'd live this
long with a heart that was not whole anymore. But somehow I have.
I never dreamed I'd be able to laugh and enjoy things in life again, but
I have. It's not been easy many times. Matter of fact, it's
been the hardest thing I've ever had to face. But here I am.
This old heart is getting older by the year. And yet.......I still
have days it beats a little faster. Days it still bleeds. Days
the scar opens up and will takes days to close back up temporarily.
I live from day to day. I never
used to do that. I used to plan months ahead, look forward to many
things in life. But today...when people say, "How are you?"
I reply, "I'm alive." Some look at me oddly, and others say, "I know
what you mean." Even though I've seen it all, felt it all, and feel
now I've survived it all so far, I am partially healed. I know I
will never heal totally. And in ways, I don't think I want to.
I don't want to ever forget a certain little boy who brought so much love
and happiness into my life. I never want to forget the love I have
always had for him. I never want to forget anything about him.
So I will plug on. On days when it gets hard and I feel like falling
down and giving up, I will once again, pick myself up, put one foot in
front of the other and tell myself, "You still have work to do."
