This is a book that Michael Price let us borrow and it's really good. I will probably re-read it and take more notes, but these concepts stood out to me.
From Chapter titled Bereavement and Religion
For many people, regardless of their faith, a belief that there was a divine purpose in their child's death is just what they need to sustain them. They can be comfortable thinking the death was not just an empty, meaningless happening. They feel God had a greater plan and their beloved (Hayden) was a part of that plan.
I believe such people are fortunate. They are relieved of a sense of the futility of things.
People who are religious are the ones who can ask, "Why did this happen to me," without destroying themselves emotionally. They can give themselves many answers.
One ancient example of this is the tale of the wife of a revered and wise rabbi whose twin sons died while he was away from home.
Knowing how deeply he loved the boys, his wife decided to keep the tragic news from her husband until he could fortify himself with dinner that evening. When the rabbi came home, he asked for his sons repeatedly. His wife always replied, "They are away from home now."
After the meal, she sat with him and said, "You are a very wise and learned man. Help me with the answer to a problem. If you were lent two precious jewels and told you could enjoy them as long as they were in your keeping, would you be able to argue when the lender asked for their return?"
Her husband thought for a moment and replied, "Certainly not!"
His wife then arose and led her husband into the bedroom where the two boys lay, dead, and said, "God wanted his jewels back."
The most fortunate people are those who can derive peace from thinking their child is with God. They are the parents who do not constantly rack themselves with the pain of thinking how useless it was that their child died. And even if they do ask why, they have an answer that will not satisfy those who are nonbelievers.
From Chapter titled Bereavement and Functioning
Remember, we are different from other people. For most of us, the worst is behind us. It is not something we still have to face.
To my own satisfaction I have now defined fear. Fear is waiting for a doctor to tell you whether or not your child will live or die! That is a truth that all bereaved parents can profit from if they learn it and learn it well.
Anyone can exist. But you have endured more pain than just anyone. You have undergone the ultimate tragedy. You owe yourself more than a shuffling-along existence. You owe yourself some surefooted living.
From Chapter titled Bereavement and the Rest of Your Life
You probably never thought you could live through your child's funeral. What could have been more dreadful? But you did.
Certainly surviving all the grief you felt seemed impossible. Those days and nights of crying, exhaustion, and pain were almost beyond endurance. You were certain, at times, you would never get past that time in your life. But you did.
There were times when you felt great guilt because somehow you had not filled the role of "parent" as society interprets the role. You were unable to save your child and keep him alive. As that cold, clammy feeling would come over you and your back would prickle thinking about what you could have done differently, you were sunk into such a pit of grieving that you never dreamed it would be possible to go on. But you did.
Often, you were beset with anger and a feeling of powerlessness because events that should have been in your control simply were not. You did not think you could overcome these feelings-especially the hopelessness that accompanied them. But you can.
Just when you needed your mate most, you would find he or she could help you least. You expected comfort from someone incapable of comforting. You argued. Sometimes you even hated. You never thought you would rise from the bottom of the well of sorrow. But you can.
You thought never again could you take an interest in the world and retain friendships and attend weddings and happy occasions for other people's children. You were certain you could never live through the trauma. But you will.
There was no doubt in your mind that you never again could enjoy yourself. Never want to travel. Never give parties-or attend them. Never have fun. You would only be sorrowful and certainly you would never laugh. Above all, not laugh. But you will.
And most of all, you were sure it would be impossible for you to function as a whole human being not buffeted by the waves of sorrow that swept over you in the early days of your tragedy. But you will.
You will do all that and you will do more.
Everything you have achieved-and just going about your day-to-day business after such a tragedy is an accomplishment-will act as a stepping stone to anything else you ever try to do.
The fear of the unknown is behind us, for most of us, because we have already taken a long look at hell.
You have before you the rest of your life. What you do with it is entirely a matter of choice. There are no rules or laws that require you to mourn forever and you certainly should not.
It was then, as I said, that I became conscious of that paralytic "what will people think" mentality. Worrying about that kind of thinking is false and trivial. I believe it also can dangerously retard your reentry into society. If Person A (believes this) and Person B (believes that) and Person C (thinks that) and you allow yourself to be buffeted by these outside judgments at the time of your supreme vulnerability you will not do what is right for you but what other people who have been through your ordeal think is right for you.
I was lucky enough to understand what I was feeling and did not allow myself to be guided by someone else's timetable for what is acceptable. Instead, I let my inner instincts for self-preservation remain my determinant. We all have these instincts. Use yours. Listen to them. They can be excellent judgmental tools.
The truth is, few can understand what we are feeling unless they too have been there!
In trying to live the rest of your life, it is imperative not to make "what will the neighbors think" your prime consideration. Instead, concern yourself with functioning as best you can.
As long as I live I will be sorry (Hayden) is dead. That is fact. That is something I carry always. There are times, especially the good times, when I miss him still. But there are still good times. We share joys as a family that he did not live to share and I am sorry. But we still have joys. That is as it should be for us. That is as it should be for you.
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