There is an old story about two blind men trying to earn their rather sad living by selling pencils on a busy New York corner.

An observer, feeling pity, watched the two men who stood separated by a few feet. As he looked on, he noticed that most people bypassed one blind man but stopped short in front of the other. Few failed to buy from him. Curious, the observer stepped closer and learned the reason for the obvious disparity of how passersby responded to the two. The first blind man, on his cup, had a sign which read: "Please help the blind". The second, the successful man, too had a sign. But his read: "It is spring and I am blind". The same affliction, the same need for revenue, but a different approach.

You bereaved parents are very much like the two blind men. You are faced with a dreadful situation. What you must now do is determine how best to handle the tragedy and achieve what you want ~ a way to live with it ~ and most of that handling lies in the approach.

When a child dies, at first surviving is like an affliction. Indeed, it bears some similarity to blindness because you are left without seeing a path you can safely follow to soothe your torn senses. You must grope your way forward. Stumbling, picking yourselves up again until you learn how to handle your grief, is about all you can do.

If intellect is employed in dealing with that grief, there is a way out of bereavement that can leave the parent whole and sighted and a survivor in a positive rather than a negative sense.

Just after Jenny died, the idea of living for any appreciable length of time was horrifying for Lyn. All she could envision was an endless number of hours and days stretching into infinity and all filled with pain and grief. No one who had not undergone the experience of having a child die could have convinced her that this would not be the case. She simply would not have believed him. Now she finds herself and her family going and doing and functioning and taking a joy in life and its challenges. She never believed this would be possible. But Lyn assures you that it is true.

Never could Lyn envision her family laughing and happy and dealing with life. She would not have thought it possible to rise above the tragedy, but she did and so can you.

You probably never thought you could live through your child's funeral. What could have been more dreadful? But you did.

Certainly surviving all the grief you felt seemed impossible. Those days and nights of crying, exhaustion, and pains were almost beyond endurance. You were certain, at times, you would never get past that time if your life. But you did.

There were times when you felt great guilt because somehow you had not filled the role of "parent" as society interprets the role. You were unable to save your child and keep it alive. As that cold, clammy feeling would come over you and your back would prickle thinking about what you could have done differently, you were sunk into such a pit of grieivng that you never dreamed it would be possible to go on. But you did.

Often, you were beset with anger and a feeling of powerlessness because events that should have been in your control simply were not. You did not think you could overcome these feelings ~ especially the hopelessness that accompanied them. But you can.

Just when you needed your mate most, you would find he or she could help you least. You expected comfort from someone incapable of comforting. You argued. Sometimes you even hated. You never thought you would rise from the bottom of the well of sorrow. But you can.

You thought never again could you take an interest in the world and retain friendships and attend weddings and happy occasions for other people's children. You were certain you could never live throught the trauma. But you will.

There was no doubt in your mind that you never again could enjoy yourself. Never want to travel. Never give parties ~ or attend them. Never have fun. You would only be sorrowful and certainly you would never laugh. Above all, not laugh. But you will.

And most of all, you were sure it would be impossible for you to function as a whole human being not buffeted by the waves of sorrow that swept over you in the early days of your tragedy. But you will.

You will do all that and you will do more.

Everything you have achieved ~ and just going about your day-to-day business after such a tragedy is an accomplishment ~ will act as a stepping stone to anything else you ever try to do.

The fear of the unknown is behind you, for most of you, because you have already taken a long look at hell. Understand and accept that, for you, there is still a future and one that can be as bright and good as you choose to make it.

You have before you the rest of your life. What you do with it is entirely a matter of choice. There are no rules or laws that require you to mourn forever and you certainly should not.

One man, whose daughter died six months ago, said he always feels strange about accepting a golf date. "What will people say if I go out on the course and become excited over a good shot? They will think there's something wrong with me for not showing my sorrow all the time."

That man expressed a fear that is common to most bereaved parents. What will people say? How will it look? You all, especially in the beginning of this long journey back from the valley of the shadow of death, are sensitive to how you appear to your friends and neighbors. You, most of you, want people to understand you are grieving regardless of what you are doing.

A month after Jenny died a group of people where she attended school had a memorial service for her. One of the children at the school said something that made Lyn laugh before the service began, with the playing of Jenny's favorite music and a small child saying a farewell to Jenny. It was then, when she laughed, that she became aware of a strange feeling that somehow she had done the wrong thing. She should not have laughed. She seems to recall a few rather surprised faces on some of the adults. For, shocked and horried as they were feeling at that moment and ovewhelmed with their own empathy, it must have appeared utterly unnatural for the dead girl's mother to be able to laugh.

It was then, as Lyn said, that she became conscious of that paralytic "what will people think" mentality. Worrying about that kind of thinking is false and trivial. Lyn believes it also can dangerously retard your reentry into society. If Person A believes you should wait to go out to dinner for six months and Person B believes you must not laugh for eight months and Person C thinks you should not have company for a year and you allow yourself to be buffeted by these outside judgments at the time of your supreme vulnerability you will not do what is right for you but what other people who have not been through your ordeal think is right for you. Lyn was lucky enough to understand what she was feeling and did not allow herself to be guided by someone else's timetable for what is acceptable. She let her inner instincts for self-preservation remain her determinant. You all have these instincts. Use yours. Listen to them. They can be excellent judgmental tools.

The truth is, few can understand what you are feeling unless they too have been there!

In trying to live the rest of your life it is imperative not to make "what will the neighbors think" your prime consideration. Instead, concern yourself with functioning as best you can.

As long as Lyn lives she will be sorry that Jenny is dead. That is fact. That is something she will carry always. There are times, especially the good times, when Lyn will miss her still. But there are still good times. Lyn shares joys as a family that Jenny did not live to share and for that she is sorry. But Lyn's family still has joys. That is as it should be for her. That is as it should be for you.

Special Note: There are Bereaved Parents groups throughout the United States. Contact your local hospital and Human Services Department and they should be able to put you in contact with one. They are there to help and they do understand what you are going through...for they too have lost a child.