A reader writes: I have spent hours reading your articles and books, and I am just about to order another one for my son on the death of a sibling.
I don’t know if you remember me, but you helped me in a profound way last June. You gave me immediate guidance regarding my son, who had gone missing at sea following a climbing accident. He was 26 and had nearly qualified as a doctor.
My son had been deep-water soloing when he disappeared. Although large-scale searches were launched, there was little hope of finding him alive. Two weeks later, we were told his body had been found. But the coroner informed me that I would not be able to see him, despite how desperately I wanted to. He said he would not advise it given the condition of the body after two weeks in the sea. He told me my son was not recognizable and suggested we proceed with funeral arrangements.
I wrote to you then, asking whether I should still try to see him once he was brought home to the local funeral parlour. This was your response:
This is a decision only you can make, based on your own needs. You know yourself better than anyone else, and you know what you can tolerate. This should be your decision—not someone else’s. Even if you don’t think you could bear to see his face, you could ask to see another part of him that you would recognize—his hand or his foot, for example. See Bereaved Relatives Helped by Chance to View Body after Sudden Loss.
How can I ever thank you enough for the help you gave me? I relied on your research-based guidance at a time when I couldn’t bring myself to go out and seek help. The world felt frightening and unsafe. You helped me understand my feelings and encouraged me to learn everything I could about my son’s death. We have even begun raising awareness to help prevent similar accidents.
Despite strong advice from the police, coroner, and undertakers, I chose to see my son when he was finally brought home after an eight-hour journey. Because of your guidance, we felt supported in making that decision. My younger son chose to come as well.
We were warned repeatedly that his condition was the worst they had ever seen. But none of that mattered. He was my son. He had been found. He was home.
I stayed with him for at least an hour—perhaps the most meaningful hour of my life. I held his hand and touched his fingernails; they were perfect. I could see his left hand and his leg from the knee down. I recognized him in those parts. His hand and foot looked just like mine.
My younger son, who had been inseparable from his brother, saw the calm, peace, and relief that came over me—and decided he wanted to see him too. Anything was better than him being missing.
He said, “Oh look, Mum—he’s got my T-shirt on.”
We both later said it was the best decision we ever made. Seeing him—even in that state—was not as bad as we had imagined, nor as frightening as we had been led to believe. It helped us come to terms with the cremation. It brought a sense of closeness between us that no family should ever have to endure, yet somehow we carried it together.
On the day of the funeral, we even shared a gentle moment of humor. My younger son joked that the smell reminded him of how his brother’s bedroom never smelled particularly sweet.
You also guided me toward a source of support I would never have considered—my local hospice. Though they don’t typically offer outreach services, I contacted them, and an extraordinary counselor invited me to come in the very next morning. That support has meant so much to me, and the door remains open for both me and my younger son.
I said it to you then, and I say it again now: How can anyone ever thank you enough? Your work continues to support us in ways I cannot fully express. Thank you—and I wish you all the best for the future.
My response: I remember our exchange very well, my dear, and your message touches me deeply. Thank you for trusting me with these sacred parts of your story.
Your experience powerfully affirms something so important: families must be given the choice—indeed, the right—to decide for themselves whether they wish to see their loved one after death.
As a mother, I can only begin to imagine the depth of your need to see your son, to be with him, to know in your heart that he had been found and brought home. The courage you showed in the face of such strong opposition—while carrying unimaginable grief—is extraordinary.
I am profoundly grateful that anything I shared helped you find your own inner knowing and strength. The meaning you found in that hour with your son—the recognition, the connection, the peace—speaks to the enduring bond between parent and child that not even death can sever.
From my heart to yours, thank you. ♥
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Related:
- Bereaved Relatives Helped by Chance to View Body after Sudden Loss
- Look to Your Hospice for Grief Support
- Traumatic Loss: Needing to Know the Details
- Traumatic Shock
- What Is Traumatic Grief?
- When An Adult Child Dies: Resources for Bereaved Parents
© by Marty Tousley, RN, MS, FT
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