The death of an only child leaves an indelible mark on the soul. There is a vacant place in living that is never filled, never eased. I know that now; if I live to be 110, it will be true then. When your only child dies it's one thing, when your only child dies before he had children of his own, it's another thing. I'm not saying any loss of a child is greater than another; on the contrary, they all come with unique challenges. It's just that that when life prances around shouting "look at me, look at me" with the young boy walking around the lake holding his mom's hand, grandma tucking her granddaughter in at night, graduation ceremonies and proms, tournaments, plays and recitals, weddings, new jobs, and babies, they all make it so painfully clear how my time with all of that is over. Stolen. With most things in this life we have a choice, but not this. This is not my choice. This is so different from something we choose, it's not what job to take or house to purchase or even to live in another city or country, this death took away my identity, my entire persona and all that I had worked for and desired. I ache for the presence of a child in my life, with Wyatt's death that gift, that choice of living with a child in my life was taken from me, violently and viciously taken away.
As this grieving progresses, I still have moments when I break down in tears. Most days, I still think I exist only because I don't really accept his death. I can accept his absence, not his death. Death means it's all gone, washed away like dust after a rainstorm. My life can't be dust, his life can't be relegated to dust. How could that possibly be?
Dying young leaves so many questions about living.
As this grieving progresses, I still have moments when I break down in tears. Most days, I still think I exist only because I don't really accept his death. I can accept his absence, not his death. Death means it's all gone, washed away like dust after a rainstorm. My life can't be dust, his life can't be relegated to dust. How could that possibly be?
Dying young leaves so many questions about living.
I feel your pain through you written words. I feel it because I live it also... although I do have my granddaughter to love and cherish, I still have an empty hole in my heart for my Leslie. If you knew me before, you knew of my Leslie. I can't ever remember seeing her without a big smile on her face and she always made me smile ... just by entering the room. Looking into her eyes was as if I was looking into my own. As my only child she was my everything ... she was the perfect daughter. As she grew older we would laugh together like old friends ... she was an old soul and I cherished her for loving people. I miss her everyday and I cry most every day. I also pray to God everyday to help me with the pain that lingers in my heart. Yes, having my granddaughter reminds me of Leslie, but she is not Leslie. She is Leila and I love her and I will never compare the two ... there will never be anyone like Leslie ... my first and only. Thank you for sharing your comments ... they bring comfort to me and I realize I am not alone on this journey. Your friend, Barbara Strickland
ReplyDeleteSweet Barbara, Our journey is so difficult but know you are not alone. The reasons why we're here are different, but ultimately, we are both the parents of an only child that has died. Each child gives to life his or her own special light, Leslie's light can not be replaced by Leila. You love Leila and enjoy Leila and embrace all the gift that she is, but that will never bring you the same unique and beautiful gifts of your Leslie. I can only imagine that seeing Leila grow every day has it's own challenges that I will never understand. My heart aches for you my friend, for I know our sorrow is deep and constant. I wish you peace.
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