Searching for Healing

Here it is.  Here is my post after one year+ after  losing my son to pancreatic cancer.  This will not be a letter to my son, but a letter to the Universe and all who reside within – including you.

If you are judgmental, if you think you know the answer of how to cope the loss of a child, no matter their age, do not comment unless  you have been there – do not read further.

All death-losses are unique.  Losing my son is not the same as losing a spouse (I’ve been there, done that), nor a parent (been there, done that).

My stepson told me that upon the death of his two-week old child, they mourned.  His wife and he ended up divorcing.  His ex-wife, 12 years later, still sets a plate at the table for their dead child.  He told me that he could not imagine losing a child who had a “personality.”

“Dead” is the truth, it’s an ugly word.  It’s ugly, but, it’s the truth, and I will use the word “dead”.  If you’ve been where I have trodden, you know the blatant truth of the use of words.

Do not read further, if you cannot handle the truth about the death of an adult  child.

I have “survived” the first year anniversary of Michael’s death.  I lived my life striving to “do” what was denied to my son.  I listened to the mocking birds.  I savored the scent of the lilacs.  I tried to live for my son in my limited existence.

I thought that every breath I took was a breath he was denied, and pushed myself to make it worthwhile.

Every sight I saw was something he couldn’t see… the deer in the woods behind our home, the mocking birds, singing every song they memorized.  Even the crazy squirrels who chewed up my bird feeder – I found purpose in every living thing.

Problem was/is, I could not find MY purpose in continuing to exist in this plane.

He had so much for which to live – his 2 yr. old son, 4 yr. old daughter, a loving wife, 3 brothers, co-workers, friends… and me, his mom.  His dad was deceased when he was only 8 yrs. old.

I have lessened my activities.  I perform that of which my life requires and nothing more.

The second year is the year of awakening.

Recently, I  have had three “breakdowns”.  Talking with those whom I trust, who love and know me.  No, not siblings, lost them a long time ago – breast cancer.  Friends who really know and love me listened and shared their stories.

Yet, there is something I need to release.  I have identified it as “guilt” for outliving my child.

When I broke down, three nights ago, I realized that I need help.  I searched local churches for bereavement groups.  It seemed my quest was a failure.  However, I am impatient.

I did attend an online support group today, to which, I will not be returning.  It was more of a cackle of hens…

I was new to the group.  Another woman had just lost her son only a week ago and little attention was paid to her.  It seemed as though “regulars” were there to talk about camping and weeding their gardens.  I was, at first, angry, and then dismissive.  I will not be returning to that group.  I will not be judgmental.

Meanwhile, I received a phone call from a church, actually, the first church I contacted – I have a really, really, really difficult time with organized religion – however, this non-denominational church returned my request via phone message with an opportunity to meet with its Pastor.  Oh, I had contacted four churches – one responded with something to the effect that I could have a phone conference.  Uh,… no.  Did you not understand my request?  Did you not understand my circumstance?  I can phone my friends if I want a phone conference.

Anyway, this church was my first choice in requesting help, and … patience must be a virtue.  I don’t know that I will find solace, but, I am on a journey and I’m going to exhaust every avenue available to accomplish that end.

The first year is not the hardest.














12 responses to “Searching for Healing

  1. I have not been there and cannot imagine the loss of a child. It is my greatest fear. Thank you for your honest words. I hope you find the comfort and support you need. My best to you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you for your comment and best wishes.


  3. I’m not sure we ever get over the death of people we love. Time makes it hurt less, but nothing cures it. May you find comfort.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I’m sorry that I’m always at loss of words after I read your thoughts because I don’t think I have appropriate words. I can only hope and pray for healing to find you. Please know you are in my thoughts. So much love your way ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  5. The loss of a son or daughter is perhaps one of the most difficult things to endure. Most times it’s totally unexpected and very shocking. Even when illness was the cause, it just startles our sense of reality to such a degree that life thereafter takes on a whole new look. It may even appear ‘unreal’ somehow.
    May I suggest, take one day at a time, don’t look back, don’t look forward. Watch the Sun come up. Spend time in nature, listen to birds, break your routine. Eddie

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Pingback: Weekly Round Up | Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer

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