By Regena Handy
It was certain to happen sooner or later. Anyone who writes a column or blog is sure at some point to write about what’s really on their mind. Many call it ‘the elephant in the room’ — those things we don’t talk about.
For nearly three years I have shared my thoughts through this column. While attempting to vary the subject matter, I have recalled happy childhood memories and written about sad times. I hope my occasional feeble attempt at humor has made the reader laugh or at least smile.
But during this time of year I am melancholy. You see, we lost our oldest son five years ago this week.
I debated long about whether to write this column, if I could or even should do so. After all, in the book “Prodigal Summer,” author Barbara Kingsolver candidly tells us ‘the world grows quickly impatient with grief.’
But the passing of a child before his parents, regardless of his age, is not supposed to happen. It is not the natural order of life. In “A Mother’s Cry … A Mother’s Celebration,” writer Neena Verma calls the pain of losing a child the ‘ultimate bereavement’.
So though this column might seem more appropriate for a gathering of parents from similar circumstances, it is presented with the understanding that everyone has suffered the loss of a loved one, be it a child, spouse, parent, sibling, other relatives and close friends. Each of us deals with that demise differently.
According to a dear friend whose son died a few years ago, we are members of a club to which no one wants to belong. There is almost an unspoken recognition between those who have lost children, an understanding that beneath the smiles, lies a pain that never goes away. My own mother, who had already endured the passing of my dad, lost her two sons, my only siblings, much too early. My husband’s grandparents buried four adult sons during their lifetime. In my family and circle of friends, there are many who have lived through this trial.
Yet life goes on and there are no choices but to learn to cope. In his book “Jayber Crow,” Wendell Berry penned these words about loss and death — “… he went through the old motions of his life, taking care of what needed caring for, keeping mostly quiet about what was on his mind.”
The first Christmas after our son’s passing took a totally different turn from previous celebrations. I recall telling the same friend mentioned earlier that I simply could not ‘do the normal Christmas routine’. Her response was wise. There is no normal anymore, she said; you have to create a new normal that works for you.
To sum up my meager attempt to write this difficult column, I offer another quote. In “An Orphan’s Tale,” author Jay Neugeboren says, “A wife who loses a husband is called a widow. A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A child who loses his parents is called an orphan. There is no word for a parent who loses a child. That’s how awful the loss is.”
