Some Thoughts about Death
Death.
It's a one syllable word that means a lot. It means not being able to see and talk to someone again in this life. It means separation, sorrow, and grief. To those of us who believe in an afterlife, it means passing through a "veil", and entering into a spirit world, or returning home to the God who created us.
Some deaths seem easier to deal with than others. All of my grandparents have passed away. While I was sad when they went, and I miss them, it was easy for me to accept. They were elderly. I could understand it being their time to go. Their deaths didn't come as a big surprise.
More difficult to accept was when my cousin Jody, who was a little younger than me, and his wife died in a car accident several years ago, leaving their very young daughter an orphan. There was surprise that they were taken so young, but mostly there was sorrow for what it would mean for their daughter, to not have the opportunity to know her parents in this life.
Even more troubling and sad is when babies are taken - when tiny souls leave life before they have even begun to live. Some may say that these souls are valiant and perfect, that all they needed on this earth was a body, but that doesn't do much to comfort their parents on this earth who wanted to hold, to teach, to love their babies in this life.
When I was pregnant with John, two of my friends were also pregnant. One of those friends (Melanie) miscarried, and the other's (Tabitha's) baby had a chromosomal disorder and lived only twelve days. I cried for my friends, but at the same time I was grateful (and a little guilty) that my son lived.
Since then, I have become aware of more and more families who have suffered the death of a child. Melanie lost another child in a car accident. One of my visiting teachers lost a child a couple years ago from the same chromosomal disorder that Tabitha's baby had. My other visiting teacher lost a baby - stillborn at full term just two months ago. Several women I know have had miscarriages.
Steven's cousin lost a baby in April. I don't think I've ever met her, but she writes a blog, and posts links to her blog on Facebook, and I've read them. Mika has a gift for portraying how she feels. Her blog - from the first time she found out that something was wrong, to the depression and grief that she is still feeling has made my heart go out to her, as well as to every other woman, or parent, who has ever lost a baby. She has written about things people say that help or don't help. She has even written about how other people don't know what to say. Her blog has been a window into the grieving process, helping me understand, a little, what it is like to lose a child.
I read an article in the Wall Street Journal yesterday about how long it usually takes to recover from an emotional trauma like divorce or losing a job, and the article says it takes about two years, while "getting over the death of a loved one is more complicated and typically will take even longer than two years, expert say."
Tabitha and her husband have both written blogs about their son, and while it doesn't seem like they are still grieving exactly, it is obvious that Joseph is still frequently in their thoughts, especially around the anniversary of his short life.
I'm not sure what my point is with all this. I don't mean to be depressing, but it is something that has been on my mind a lot lately. So many people I know have lost someone they care about. I realize that there is no way I will truly understand what they have experienced until it happens to me, and yet, I am grateful for my children, grateful that they live. I'm grateful that I haven't had to suffer from that particular trial yet.
It's a one syllable word that means a lot. It means not being able to see and talk to someone again in this life. It means separation, sorrow, and grief. To those of us who believe in an afterlife, it means passing through a "veil", and entering into a spirit world, or returning home to the God who created us.
Some deaths seem easier to deal with than others. All of my grandparents have passed away. While I was sad when they went, and I miss them, it was easy for me to accept. They were elderly. I could understand it being their time to go. Their deaths didn't come as a big surprise.
More difficult to accept was when my cousin Jody, who was a little younger than me, and his wife died in a car accident several years ago, leaving their very young daughter an orphan. There was surprise that they were taken so young, but mostly there was sorrow for what it would mean for their daughter, to not have the opportunity to know her parents in this life.
Even more troubling and sad is when babies are taken - when tiny souls leave life before they have even begun to live. Some may say that these souls are valiant and perfect, that all they needed on this earth was a body, but that doesn't do much to comfort their parents on this earth who wanted to hold, to teach, to love their babies in this life.
When I was pregnant with John, two of my friends were also pregnant. One of those friends (Melanie) miscarried, and the other's (Tabitha's) baby had a chromosomal disorder and lived only twelve days. I cried for my friends, but at the same time I was grateful (and a little guilty) that my son lived.
Since then, I have become aware of more and more families who have suffered the death of a child. Melanie lost another child in a car accident. One of my visiting teachers lost a child a couple years ago from the same chromosomal disorder that Tabitha's baby had. My other visiting teacher lost a baby - stillborn at full term just two months ago. Several women I know have had miscarriages.
Steven's cousin lost a baby in April. I don't think I've ever met her, but she writes a blog, and posts links to her blog on Facebook, and I've read them. Mika has a gift for portraying how she feels. Her blog - from the first time she found out that something was wrong, to the depression and grief that she is still feeling has made my heart go out to her, as well as to every other woman, or parent, who has ever lost a baby. She has written about things people say that help or don't help. She has even written about how other people don't know what to say. Her blog has been a window into the grieving process, helping me understand, a little, what it is like to lose a child.
I read an article in the Wall Street Journal yesterday about how long it usually takes to recover from an emotional trauma like divorce or losing a job, and the article says it takes about two years, while "getting over the death of a loved one is more complicated and typically will take even longer than two years, expert say."
Tabitha and her husband have both written blogs about their son, and while it doesn't seem like they are still grieving exactly, it is obvious that Joseph is still frequently in their thoughts, especially around the anniversary of his short life.
I'm not sure what my point is with all this. I don't mean to be depressing, but it is something that has been on my mind a lot lately. So many people I know have lost someone they care about. I realize that there is no way I will truly understand what they have experienced until it happens to me, and yet, I am grateful for my children, grateful that they live. I'm grateful that I haven't had to suffer from that particular trial yet.
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