Walking Wounded

This blog has been in my head for a long, long time. I haven't written it, cause I have thought "Is it really my place to write this? Is this really the time to say it?" But at times I find a sort of "writer's block" when there is something in my head and heart that I don't' write. Eventually it is the only thing that comes to me when I sit down here to write, so I just gotta write it so I can move on.


And I want to say a special word for a friend of mine, Tracy W. Hey, I am writing stuff here that we have spoken about, and I know that you want to write it too, in your Carepages Journal. Please forgive me for writing about it myself, but it has long been in my heart, and speaking to you about it has just got it in my head. Please write it too, in your own Journal, cause different people will read it there and they will want to read it too. And I would like to read what you have to say too!



Sometimes people ask me if they can "borrow" an idea, analogy, expression, words, etc to write in their own journals or blog or whatever. Please be my guest! First of all, it surprises and flatters me to think you like what came out of my head (oh, oh, there goes my ego!) and second of all, I borrow from you ALL THE TIME and I don't even ask for your permission!!! Please consider my ideas here public domain! I don't think I have earned the right to "corner the market" on grief!



This is a sort of tribute to a group of people that I have grown to know and love. I have called them here the "Walking Wounded." They are my friends who have lost their children.



I have been sort of asked why I would want to "hang out" with them, since being with them would be a constant reminder of the future I face myself. I'm going to be where they are one day, and is that really something I want to look at everyday?



Short answer: yes.



Yes, I do. These people are the survivors. Yeah, they are going through an emotional place very much like that horrid gray land that Frodo and Sam traverse in the Lord of the Rings. At times, it ain't pretty, I can grant you that.


But strange as it seems, I find these friends a comfort. Yes, I do. They may be wounded, but they are still walking. In fact, the amazing thing is that even with all the hurt and pain in their own hearts, they still somehow have time and love to give to me, to encourage me, to ask how I'm doing. They encourage me. Through all the pain, they are still walking. And even still caring for others.

Often, they are the people who understand me best. Cause they have been where I am now. I feel most comfortable letting it all out to them, cause they have for the most part already thought and felt what I am going through. And they are really non-judgemental about it all. I can just say it like it is. I am grateful to them for that.


But let me tell you something. This has been on my heart for awhile. These are people who have been grievously wounded. Sometimes there are unrealistic expectations put on them. There is this sense that about six months after losing your child you should be coming to terms with it, and by a year things should be starting to look up.

I'm just going to tell "you" right now (whoever "you" are!! Of course, this "you" is not likely someone who reads my blog, but I feel better saying this, so thanks for listening, even if it doesn't apply to you!) that this is just plain crazy talk. It is only the sort of thing you believe is possible when you haven't lost your own child. If you expect these people to get up and dance, there is something you don't understand.


Losing your child is like having a limb chopped off. Or maybe even two.


And it matters not if you had a warning of it or if it happened suddenly. Either way, life will NEVER be the same, either way a part of you is missing. It was there one day and it is gone the next. And nothing can make it grow back.

The funny thing is that sometimes we can understand a physical loss so much better than an emotional one. After all, it is staring us in the face, so obvious. So we would never look at someone who had lost both legs and think "Hey, it has been a year, why is he STILL in the wheelchair?" But for someone who has gone through an emotional amputation, we wonder why after a year, they still aren't dancing.

Truth is, they are still dealing with the phantom pain of a limb that SHOULD BE THERE, rehabilitation, life style adjustments, and a future that seems strange, alien, and sometimes bleak.

If you have lost your child, it is like losing a limb or two. Nothing will ever be the same. It is not a pain you can "put behind you," because losing a child is losing a future. So as the future marches into the present you are not farther from the pain. In strange ways, you can feel even closer to that pain. Our children are people who inhabit our future. We can not leave them in the past. Every day forward is a new day where our child should be. So every new day is a grief, a loss.

A year is not enough time to mourn this. Five years, not enough. Twenty years later you will still feel that pain of the missing part of you were the child was. The child that should be regaling you with tales of the new job. The child that should be introducing you to your new grandchildren. The one who should be bringing you the flowers on Mother's Day.

Yes, I do believe that time will help diminish all the negative feelings. Joy will grow again. Life settles into new routines, and we start to feel more positive, we learn to enjoy the good things around us again. Slowly.

But please remember these people have lost something huge. Realize that the second year after their precious baby is gone might be as hard as the first. And the year after that, too. Let them be sad. Listen to their heart. It is hard to be sad with someone, but you might learn something. In the end you might come away with more than you find you put in. If nothing else, you have gained a true friend to stand with you in your own corner on a day when your own world falls apart. For grief comes to us all, sooner or later. And these people are the ones who can take your hand and show you there is a way through.