Losing a loved one by suicide differs from other losses. It presents special problems in grieving. There is often more shock, a greater sense of injustice, more guilt and blame, and a heightened sense of helplessness. Within these losses, each differs in the difficulties experienced. I only know child loss, so here are some lessons I have learned. Some came quick and others I am still learning.
- Just like the love for a child grows exponentially the moment you see them for the first time, it grows like that again upon their death. Learning of your first child’s conception blossoms a love previously unknown. Their birth triggers an explosion of more love. Time will mature that love. I am surprised that no one speaks about how love grows at their death.
- No one can know what losing a child is like until it occurs to them. I tried over ten years ago when a friend lost their son. Try as I might think of it, it was not possible to know. I knew I would be devastated, but I could not conjure the emotions or the depth. It seems the brain knows but refuses to allow it to be conscious. A parent would never allow their child to do anything if it was known. Even when the loss occurred, my brain shielded me from the full force of the knowledge – called shock. It slowly exposes you to tremendous horror over the next year or two.
- Other losses are not the same, nor similar. Even our miscarriages that hurt immensely were not remotely close. Cancer taking a parent or a brother dying by heart attack does not come close. Those losses may be tragic and hurt, but not the same.
- Grieving with hope is still grieving loss. Being a Christian does not mean loss hurts less. The grief hits differently, but not less painfully. Additionally, references to this can cause additional hurts. Many of us question if our beloved child will be in heaven. Most reassurances come across like I am being pushed to get over the loss.
- One never knows who will stay. Most will refuse to remain with those in grief. The last words we hear from most of those ‘close’ are “Let me know if you need anything.” I get that being with the bereaved can be difficult, especially in the early days of grief. Living with it is considerably worse and having someone to talk with occasionally is greatly appreciated and sometimes literally life saving.
- Every celebration, every lovely day enjoyed doing the things we love, has a shadow. Loss lingers on the edges, letting its presence be known. Joy and being happy learn to coexist with sadness. Just like a nice day at the beach can be amazing even while constantly monitoring a dark cloud not too far away.
- Gratitude necessarily sits with sorrow. Without thankfulness for what was, there is no loss. That gratitude begets an ongoing thankfulness for what we know can be easily taken.
- My child’s life and death have formed who I am.
- Hearing stories of my child’s impact, even if it only had you smile, makes my day. Avoiding speaking about my child does not keep me from thinking about him at least a dozen times a day.
- My son’s final moments do not define who he is. The disease that took him does not change how I feel, what he accomplished, or how people should remember him. If it does not matter, then talking about him should be normalized.
Bonus: Grief from losing a child never stops. Healing from this might be like healing from a double amputation. Life becomes much more difficult and will never return to how it was before. A piece is always missing and the phantom pains remind you of what was.
Bonus #2: The solution to losing children is not more children. No other child can replace the one missing. Saying God restored Job by replacing his children trivializes those children lost.
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