When a Child Dies #10
This excerpt is from my book Megan’s Secrets and is used by permission:
We live with grief. Life doesn’t turn out the way we expect, and we suffer the loss. The health we expected into old age is suddenly lost. The child we thought was “normal” turns out to have special challenges. The teenager we love more than life makes destructive choices. The job we worked hard for is suddenly lost in a downsized economy. The marriage we thought was perfect turns out to be wearisome. The one we love so much dies. Rachel keeps weeping for her children.*
The years roll by and grief changes. But it doesn’t leave. And sometimes it sneaks up and bites us unexpectedly.
Long before I’d ever heard of Dick Hoyt, Megan was my frequent companion as I trained for marathons. She loved the feel of the wind and the up-close view of the outdoors. As I ran and pushed, she clapped her hands, sang little bits of her favorite songs, and would occasionally yell, “Hey, I’m Megan!”
I didn’t know how much I missed those running experiences together until ten or eleven years after her death. On the Sunday that our congregation is full of parents dropping off children at college, I took the stroller (which remains in an honored place in the garage) as a prop to talk about the challenge of letting go.
But in both services, the moment — the MOMENT! — I touched the stroller, I melted down. Through the years, I had some emotional moments while preaching. But never like this. The memories were just too strong.
Megan's stroller
What I’ve learned about grief, though, is this: it’s the only way. I can’t ignore it; I can’t set it aside; I can’t pretend. I must grieve my way through the sorrow and the loss. Painful as it is, grief is a gift—a part of the healing process.
It allows me to remember; it forces me to remember how strong love was and is; it slowly—slowly!—allows me to imagine a new future. And it keeps me dependent on God, eventually looking back over the many miles and realizing how true the words of the Psalmist are: “You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.”
This is not a naive, Pollyannaish joy. This is the joy of those who have known deep loss, who have wept the tears of Rachel, who have lived in friendship with others who allow the balm of healing to slowly work (and who are themselves part of that balm of healing), who have been turned by God back to life in this desperate world, and who have learned to hope.
- – - -
*See Jeremiah 31:15; Matthew 2:18. I write earlier in the chapter that Rachel is the “patron saint of all those who have lost a child, all those who’ve suffered greatly, all those who think God has forgotten them.”
You’re absolutely right. There is no way around it. I’ve tried.
My mother’s passing leaves us one degree of separation. Our foundation has supported a program at Pepperdine for the past few years again, one degree of separation. I have a calling to reach out to you.
Thanks, Judy, I’d welcome it.
James – This is the way Anne Lamott put it:
“Only grieving can heal grief.”
My counselor says it’s like the children’s story: Can’t go under it, can’t go over it — gotta go through it to get to the other side.
When my children were small we moved to a different state. To make the move easier for my four children we would go on adventures after Dad left for work in the afternoon. We would get on the car choose a direction to go and drive, if some one decided had been going the same direction we would change direction. One evening I suppose I wasn’t watching my turns very well so I lost our way. After driving around for a couple hours in the dark we realized we were only a couple miles from home. Stephanie always loved these adventures. When things were going wrong in her life she would laugh and say she was on adventure and was only a couple miles from home. For the past 21 months I tell myself I am on an adventure and Stephanie is waiting at home for me.
You all are absolutely correct! There is no way around grieving! I have tried it too & it is always there. My 18 year old was shot & killed 2 1/2 yrs ago & it gets easier but NEVER goes away!