A reader writes: I think for me, right now, the worst part of my son’s death is not knowing exactly what happened. He died in a hit-and-run motorcycle accident, and we still don’t know the details or who was responsible for his death. Through the many trials of this life, I've become what others call a very strong person. I'm generally not someone who cries. In my life, my tears have usually been due to overwhelming frustration where I just couldn't take anymore. This is the second one of my children I've buried. Two deposits in Heaven! One of my other sons died many years ago at the age of 3 months from SIDS. I know the grieving process and I also know that this is very hard on the rest of my family. I have three grown children, all of whom still live at home. I felt I needed to find my support elsewhere because I know we all grieve differently. I have a strong belief system, so I know my sons are happy and in Heaven, but I'm still their mom and I miss them both so very much! I feel like I've been in a protective bubble and it is starting to deflate. I know a lot of things about grief but my knowing doesn't always help. The difference between the "head" and "heart" I suppose.
Your need to know exactly what happened to your son is completely understandable. It reminds me of what another bereaved mother experienced when her son was killed in a tragic accident.
You mention that you have a strong spiritual belief system, yet even the most steadfast faith can be shaken by loss. Struggling between what we know in our heads and what we feel in our hearts is both normal and human. When we experience a traumatic loss ~ the death of someone we love ~ we are forced into the painful process of adapting to what has happened. Part of that process involves searching for meaning. The faith we’ve relied on all our lives may suddenly feel uncertain as our beliefs and values are called into question.
Whether sudden or expected, the death of someone dearly loved is an unwelcome and excruciating interruption of our relationship ~ and for most of us, it feels not only painful but profoundly wrong. Intellectually, we may understand that death is part of life and comes to everyone eventually, but emotionally and spiritually we grieve. We may feel anger at the injustice of it all and long for someone ~ or something ~ to blame: God, fate, the universe, or anyone who might seem responsible.
Much has been written about the role religion plays in grief. In The Handbook of Thanatology: The Essential Body of Knowledge for the Study of Death, Dying, and Bereavement, Robert G. Stevenson describes the observations of Mwalimu Imara, a hospital chaplain who worked alongside Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in Chicago. Chaplain Imara noticed that those who practiced what he called authentic religion ~ faith that shaped their identity, values, choices, and understanding of life and death ~ were generally less anxious and less fearful. Their faith offered them a framework for making sense of loss and helped them move through grief with greater resilience.
I must tell you, my dear, that my precious baby David was loved from the moment he was conceived, and though his time on this earth was brief, his impact on my heart is everlasting. I have always thought of him as my special angel ~ but now, thanks to your words, I will think of him as my own “deposit in Heaven,” too. Thank you for sharing that beautiful image.
Related:
- A Question of Faith
- Confronting the Lessons of Grief
- Death of an Adult Child: Resources for Bereaved Parents
- Does It Ever Get Easier?
- Grief and God: When Religion Does More Harm Than Healing
- Religion and Spirituality in Grief
- Silent Grief: Pregnancy, Stillbirth and Infant Loss
- Stillbirth Causes a Grief That Hurts Unlike Any Other
- The Club Nobody Wants To Belong To
- Trapped In A World Between Living and Dead
- Traumatic Loss: Needing to Know the Details
- What to Say to Grieving Parents After A Child Dies
- Why We Will Never Get Over It













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