I am approaching the anniversary of my son’s death. It will 16 years since we heard the news from the county chaplain on duty that night that it was indeed our son, Adam, and his flight student, Jason, who had landed the plane on a city street and died in the fiery aftermath. Sixteen years since we had to plan a funeral, watched his body be laid to rest at the cemetery, and live in a grief so heavy that I thought it would cause my heart to stop with the weight of it all.
A few months after his death, we started hearing the standard comments. “Adam would want you to move on and not be sad.” “It has been long enough; it is time to start living again.” “Adam is in a much better place, don’t be sad for him, but be happy!” It is hard to believe that we heard these words and many more that would make us think, “did I just really hear that, or is my crazed, grief soaked mind hearing it wrong?”
Then a year came and went. One year without hearing Adam’s voice. One year without feeling his hug, or seeing that beautiful gentle smile. We were told and believed that NOW it would get easier. And of course we heard the word “closure” over and over.
But what we found was that it became harder. We had been thinking like the ones that haven’t been through it , that after we experienced the “firsts”, we would have gone through the worst. What we found was that now that we had experienced the “firsts” and our grief didn’t lessen, we knew we would have to go through it all again. Nothing got better. There was no closure and never would be. I began to wonder how I would survive a lifetime of the holidays, anniversaries, birthdays without Adam.
But survive I did; one minute, one hour, one day at a time. It was a journey that I would not wish on my worst enemy. I came out stronger, found joy where we didn’t know there was any, appreciated our loved ones more, and started smiling and loving again. Some days were harder and some were easier, and eventually I started having more “good” days than bad.
Unfortunately, because I did start to smile again, few understood and assumed everything was OK in my life again. So each anniversary, birthday, holiday I have less and less that understand this grief journey. After all, it had been 5 years, 7 years, 10 years, 15 years…..
I have often wondered how I would ever be able live another day with any joy when my son was not here. What I learned as the years went by was that I have adapted to my life as it is now. I heard an analogy that fits the life of a bereaved parent. After the death of our child, it is like an amputation, a part of us is taken away. If an arm or leg is amputated, we still remember how our life was before that loss. We still long to have that life, whole and in one piece. We appreciate that life more than ever after it is gone. We never forget what it was like to be with it, but we eventually learn to adapt to our life without it. That doesn’t mean we will ever forget or not be grateful for what we had, but we can be grateful for what we have now too.
So what should I expect as I prepare to go through another anniversary of our son’s death? I don’t expect anything at all. I don’t expect anyone else to know what we go through every year. Years ago it made me angry. Now I understand. They don’t get it. They never would without experiencing this.
Think back to what it was like BDYC (before the death of your child), and you heard of someone that was a newly grieving parent. I can remember it clearly. My heart broke. I cried and cried. I went to the funeral. I took meals over. Within a month or so, my life went back to what it was. The parents were just coming out of shock and beginning the devastating journey of grieving the death of their child. I don’t remember sending a card at the one year anniversary, or just sitting and letting them talk about their child. It wasn’t because I was heartless or didn’t care, but because I didn’t understand. As hard as it was to imagine, it wasn’t even close to what actual grief is because I had nothing to compare it with.
If I could do one thing in this life it would be to educate people on how to help someone they know that is grieving. In other countries it isn’t rare to allow a family to grieve for years. It is accepted. Their grieving is respected. I am not sure how we came to get where we are in this country, but it is a disgrace the way society has taught us to be.
My husband worked for a national company. He was told to “grieve after 5:00 PM because people were uncomfortable with his sadness.” As shocking as that sounds, even more shocking is that this was less than two months after the death of Adam. His boss also told him that he “understood” what he was going through because his grandma had died and that made him very sad. So, we can’t really blame anyone can we with this kind of thinking being the norm.
I decided early on that I would voice my feelings, that I would respond…..in love…to the comments made, and I would educate others on the grief journey I was traveling. It was OK to say that they weren’t making me cry because they mentioned Adam’s name, or that yes, it was OK to say his name and talk about him.
I am living with a big hole in my heart, a part that went away when Adam did. I will always have that part missing, but I found out I can live without it until I see him again. Then my heart will be whole and the journey I have been traveling will be over.
What a beautiful powerful article Linda. It is true and for that I am selfishly grateful, that I do not know your pain or the grief you live with. This being said, I do think of Adam often. The day he was born, the cute little guy he was, the mischievous little boy he could be, the cute kid he was sitting on the floor opening birthday gifts with his cousin Andrea who he shares a birthday with, and the wonderful young man he grew into. He lives in our hearts and our memories forever and I imagine him smiling and giving thanks for the faith he had that took him to his Lord and Savior on that day in August 1997. LNF
Pam – Adam’s Auntie
I think when most people have experienced a death close to them for the first time it is usually a grandparent. Although we miss them we can usually accept it philosophically. They may have been old and in pain, or had a long full, rich life. But that loss opens that door to grief and gives us just a peek and it hurts. When a young person with so much promise loses their life so suddenly we remember the pain of that briefly opened door and it scares us to open that door for a loss so huge. Clumsily we try to hold that door closed every time something threatens to open it. We have all felt that awkwardness as to what to say to perhaps a terminally ill person, a victim of a catastrophe, or a grief-stricken parent. We are afraid of offending someone, but we are also afraid of being reminded how fragile life is, and how vulnerable we all are. But, we still love and we stil hurt for those who are left behind by their loved ones and have stood in that wide-opened door while grief rained on them. And we are grateful. Grateful that we can still hold the door shut, and we feel guilty that you had to stand there and take it. I love you Linda and I wish with all my heart that you didn’t have to go through this.
Linda, thank you for your beautiful writing. I lost my only sibling, my brother Brian, to suicide 3 years ago this week and can completely relate to every word here. You speak of something that has been so frustrating to me. It was so alienating to begin with because people don’t know how to deal with a suicide (or death in general) but their lives go back to normal and the family is left alone to grieve in silence. Thank you for sharing your words and your heart and soul with us!
It is exacly 9 months since my only child died. I fear for my own sanity. On the surface and in the eyes of the world I am “doing well”. My sister remarked yesterday that she is so happy to see that I am coping so much better. Yesterday I came close to ending my life. If I did not have the responsibility of bringing up my grandsons I think I may have done something very stupid. The pain is just too much to bear. You write beautifully and in a way you have comforted me. Thank you!
hi I lost my little boy called Adam in road accident in 2000,what happen was me and is farther had split up so it was going though the courts so he had him every sunday 10 till 5,so 11 AUG 2000 picked him up from mine took him to is house and that was the last I seen of him alive I was deverstaterd, its comeing up to is 21st birthday and am really feeling it..i want to do something speacil for him at is grave and can not get my head around it,could anyone give me any idears please I miss him so much and its left a big big hole in my heart…
My wife and I lost our only son Mitchel, who was 15 yrs. 122 days on May 23, 2004 and I seem to be stuck in grief I still cry and almost lost my marriage
I understand! I am just passed my 11th year without my son after losing him in a MVA in March 2003.
Hi Linda this is a blast from the past. Your ex neighbor Mary Smith now Young. Our family has never forgotten that day or your family. We still think of you often. Adam did and always will have a special place in our hearts.