Reflection on Grief

As The Holidays approach, I find myself reflecting on the past four and a half years without my son Brayden. What follows is mostly a brain dump to help me come to terms with my thoughts, but hopefully, by sharing my raw thoughts and feelings, you may find similarities and know you aren’t alone.

My Son Brayden died on February 29, 2012 during the night at the age of 5. He had apparently caught the flu and had been exposed to strep at the same time. Because he had the flu, the strep went to the lining of his brain, and the official cause of death was Streptococcal Meningitis. However, if he hadn’t had the flu, he would have only had strep throat, so… he died because of the flu. He was one of only 34 reported pediatric Influenza deaths in the nation that season. The flu shot was working that year. Our family just didn’t get theirs. Needless to say, we get our flu shots now.

OK… so now that you know why I write… what have I learned about grief in the past four and a half years? The main thing I have learned is that no two people have the same exact experience. No two people handle grief in the same way, there is no magic cure for grief, and to set a timeline to get over it is setting yourself up for failure, especially in the case of losing a child.

As human beings, there are certain losses in life that hurt, but overall, our culture, our psyche and everything that makes us human is prepared to handle. These losses include the loss of pets, friends, extended family, grandparents, eventually parents, and at some point in life siblings. Don’t get me wrong, I am not downplaying the pain and loss from any of these. I have experienced most of them and I cried from the pain, and know that the grief for each is greater for some people than for others. However, a loss we are not programmed for, for whatever reason is the loss of our children. This loss tends to rock a person to his or her core. It often changes the person, for better or worse, and is something we never get over. We are not meant to bury our children. Over the past few years, I have met many grieving parents at different points in their journey. The one thing that is common for all, is that there are days where the feeling of grief still hits from time to time and can be overwhelming during that moment. I am not just talking about those of us new to this journey. During the first few years, this is expected by anyone, regardless of whether they truly understand the pain. I am also talking about parents twenty or thirty years into this journey who admit to having days where the grief comes out of nowhere and hits them like a train. I think a large part of this is because, as animals, and as a culture, much of our lives revolve around the creation and raising of children.

At a very early age, most children can tell you whether they want one child, no children, or a lot of them. The ones who choose to not have a child will never understand the absolute joy of being a parent. Sure… kids have their moments when they test every bit of our being…. But the deep love we have for them allows us to cope. Once we have our first child, the focus starts to shift from “what do I want to be when I grow up”… to “Wonder what she will be like when she grows up?” We adjust our dreams and goals to assure their hopes and dreams are within reach. I stopped being James and started being daddy. For most parents, this starts from the moment they decide they are going to have a child. Not just at birth…. Not at some other magic age…. Their identity as a parent becomes established the moment they start changing their goals to care for the child they are planning for, at least in their subconscious. When we lose a child, every one of those hopes, plans and dreams is shattered as they relate to that child. Everything you saw as your future from milestones to high school activities to weddings, college, career, grandchildren, great grandchildren…. All of those things die with your child.

During the first year, I was humbled by the support around me. I live in a relatively small town in Missouri and the support was there from the minute I stepped out of the ambulance saying my goodbyes to my son into what was now my reality.

Like many parents, I found myself feeling “Prickly”. I got frustrated and angry when people said things I felt were stupid or insensitive. If you ask any grieving parent, the one thing they never want to hear is something along the lines of “Oh… honey… I KNOW just how you FEEL….. We lost our dog……….” . Yeah… NO….. Sure, I have lost pets and have cried over them. And I understand that for some, their pets are all they have. But be aware, if you are reading this trying to figure out how to be there for a grieving parent…. NOTHING compares to the pain of losing a child, and those of us who have felt the pain of both are not comforted by someone who, although trying to find common ground, compares that “paper cut to the open gash in our souls.” However, in time I learned something that has completely changed how I approach grief. People around us want to help. But as a culture, we don’t talk about grief as much. We SURE don’t talk about losing a child. It dawned on me, that instead of letting myself be sensitive, it should be my mission to help those around me understand this grief. That way, should they have a friend or neighbor get introduced to this hell. They can be there in a meaningful and helpful way. I told myself that I am going to allow anyone who cares enough to talk to me to ask me anything they want… and I made this a very public statement. After all, I love talking about Brayden. Saying and hearing his name brings joy to my heart. AND… maybe we can learn from each other. I can learn what people don’t understand about grief, and they can learn from my experience. So… I have spent the last three years or so, learning from other grieving parents, learning from other people grieving other loved ones…and talking to those who aren’t grieving but are brave enough to talk and ask questions. I still am not ready to learn about the grief of pets… although I understand that pain… it is just two totally different levels of pain.

The second year was the worst for me. I expected it to be better because I had already gone through the holidays, birthday and anniversary of his death for the first time. I should be ready to handle them this time, right? NOPE!! The bad days came harder because I was over the “Fog” of numbness from the first year. Not only did I cry more, but I got mad at myself for crying more and not being even a little better. That was until I talked to others who had experienced the same thing… THAT helped me to feel “normal”.

The last two years have been spent learning from others and just trying to be there when I can. I have also spent the last two years taking care of my mother with Alzheimer’s and an aging father. That has helped keep me distracted, but has led to the bad days being days where I am REALLY in a funk.

To you I offer the following advice to those who are reading this in hopes of understanding and helping others:
1. If you don’t understand the deep level of grief a grieving parent is going through, be thankful. That means you haven’t had to experience that level of pain. I hope you never do.
2. HUGS mean so much more than any words will ever say. I haven’t heard (yes…. heard) a wrong hug yet.
a. It is OK to just say nothing and be there. We know you are there and will talk if we need to or want to.
3. As much as it hurts to lose a pet, a grandparent, or other loved one, understand that you won’t understand the difference. Any attempt to use that experience to try to relate will probably not be well taken. Say what you mean… “I don’t know what to say… but tell me what you need” is a good place to start.
4. Avoid empty offers of help. If you truly have the time and resources to assist, then offer to help with specific tasks. When Brayden died, I needed someone to hold my hand for everything but going to the bathroom. Asking me a question was answered with “I don’t know…” But if someone asked, “Can I bring your family dinner?”, or “Can I make you a sandwich… you haven’t eaten anything all day”… I was able to say yes or no to that. Asking questions like… what can I do for you RIGHT NOW can also help. There may be something like getting a glass of water, or a chair or watching the front door that are on the back of their mind, but aren’t what comes to mind if someone says “Let us know if you need anything at all.”
5. Make a concerted effort to be available after the first few weeks and months. When we return to work, the whole world keeps moving and we are still trying to figure out our “new reality”.
a. Keep in mind that depending on the person…. Being available can mean many things. For some, after the initial craziness of the funeral, quiet alone time to regroup as a family may be essential. For others, the silence of not having a child running around the house can be deafening and the need is for company and noise. Hopefully you are close enough to be able to explain that you can stick around if needed, or can come back when ready…. But can be there at the drop of a hat.
b. Don’t stop inviting them to gatherings. They will likely decline the first one or two or twelve…. However, eventually they will be ready to start going out again but won’t want to invite themselves.
c. If the person you know is secluding themselves for too long. Get them out of the house. If they don’t want to run into people they know yet, take them to dinner in the next town over…. Get them out after they have had enough quiet time.
6. LISTEN – AS I already mentioned… none of us grieve exactly alike. None of have the same needs. Be there for them, be brave enough to ask questions without being pushy….. but listen… not only to what they ARE saying, but to what they aren’t.

AS time has passed, I find the happy days more and more frequent, and the really bad days farther and farther apart. The Holidays, his birthday and the end of February, and beginning of March (Since February 29th only comes once every 4 years) bring those bad days. I plan for them and try not to avoid them. Last year, my family took a road trip on February 29th to honor him instead of grieving for him. It made for a great weekend. I only cried at night instead of all day.

With this Holiday season upon us, this time can be very hard for anyone grieving. Take a moment to reach out. Remember that we may actually come this year even though we haven’t shown up for the past 4. Eventually, we will need to engage. If we don’t come… don’t push. We may not be able to handle the holidays. Hopefully in time, most of us learn that our kids want us to continue living, but some have a harder time with the Holidays than others… again… because the Holidays are so often focused on kids and family. Never stop inviting us, unless we specifically as you to. Make sure we realize the door is open.