There are many ways to illustrate what our grief is like after the death of our child. Here are the four that I seem to relate to the most.
- The loss of our child is like having an amputation. Part of our very being has been cut off from us, and we have to figure out how to live with that piece of us missing.
I had a front row seat to this, since our daughter, Becca, had her little left leg amputated when she was only 3 years old, due to cancer in her bone (osteogenic sarcoma). Read her story here. She “recovered,” but her life was never the same.
There was obviously a major scar because 
she only had a stump instead of her leg. She didn’t look like the other kids. She couldn’t run and keep up with them. She had limitations. Every day she woke up with the reminder that her leg was missing, and every day, sometimes multiple times a day, she had to be determined not to let it stop her from still having a fulfilling life.
With Becca gone now, there are constant painful reminders of that fact. I don’t look like other parents. I have a hard time keeping up with life sometimes because of my limitations. Every day I have to be determined to not let her death keep me from having a fulfilling life with those who are still here.
If my three-year-old daughter could figure out how to live with a piece of her cut off, then so can I! She was the greatest example of anyone I know, who persevered and didn’t let something like an amputated leg keep her from still having a wonderful life for the twenty-nine years she had here on this earth.
- Grief is like carrying a large sharp rock in your pants pocket. At first you are very aware of it, as it bangs against your leg with every movement. It might even cut and bruise your leg, making it more painful.
After a while, you are aware it is there, but it doesn’t bother you as much. Then you move on to times where you consciously forget the rock is there as you go throughout your day. But whenever you reach into your pocket to grab something else, as your hand feels the rock, you remember…
Sometimes you bump up hard against something, and that rock cuts or bruises you again, and you are back to walking tenderly, waiting for it to heal.
There are times you will put your hand in your pocket because you want (or need) to feel the rock. Some of those times you will even pull the rock out to hold it and look at it, but it eventually goes back into your pocket.
Even if we change pants, the rock will always go with us, into the new pocket.
- Grief is like the ocean waves. You feel like you have been shipwrecked and there are huge waves crashing over you with no mercy. Every time you try to come up for air, all you can do is get a quick gasp, only to be tumbled around by another wave crashing over you. When you think you can’t take any more (multiple times), the waves start coming further apart. At least now you can catch your breath.
Eventually the waves aren’t as big, making it easier to get back to the top when you get thrown under them.
Calm waters eventually come, but there will still be waves and storms that send you swirling, being thrown underneath the water again, leaving you gasping for air. But each time, you get better at maneuvering through them. You also know they will stop at some point and the calm waters will come once again.
- Grief is like carrying a backpack of rocks up a mountain. At first you can’t move under the weight, as you look up to where you need to go, believing it is impossible. With much effort and struggle, you begin to slowly inch your way forward.
After a while, you are able to stand up and take some steps, even though you often stumble backward and fall down under the weight of the backpack. As you continue to struggle, eventually, you discover to your shock, that you are walking up the mountain. It’s hard, but you’re doing it.
The backpack of rocks becomes easier to carry as your strength builds. However, there are times you need to take a rest. Some rests are relatively short. Others take longer because you are once again feeling the full weight of what you are carrying.
The longer you climb, the easier it gets, and the fewer rests you seem to need. But you will always continue to have the backpack of rocks to carry and have the effects of it.
I have also learned that there are no “stages of grief” after a deep loss, like the death of one’s child. As an FYI, the five stages of grief were presented by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross for those who are terminally ill. They are the stages a person works through upon receiving the news that they are going to die. It was not for those who are still here after a loss.
So, with that, I have one more analogy.
Our grief is like a very tangled up ball of yarn and each of us has our own individual mess of yarn to untangle. I have knit since junior high, learning through 4-H, 
and have dealt with more tangled balls and skeins of yarn than I could ever count! There have been times the tangle was so frustrating that I quit trying and just put it away for another time. There have also been times I literally cut the yarn into pieces, trying to get it untangled (which made for a lot of ends to have to knit together)!
But eventually, whatever I was working on was finished and it brought joy to whomever it was intended for, including myself. One thing I have noticed, is that over the years I have gotten better at untangling the messes, and don’t have to cut it into pieces anymore.
Grief is hard work. Fortunately, it does get easier, even though we will deal with the pain of our loss for the rest of our time here on earth.
If you feel like you haven’t gotten very far and that you should be further along than you are, don’t allow yourself to get discouraged. You will get there, as you continue this unwanted journey, one step (or one tangle) at a time.
Whatever you do, don’t compare where you are to anyone else, especially those who have never experienced the death of their child! You are untangling your own messy ball of grief, and it is unlike anyone else’s. There is no right or wrong way and there are NO time limits!
Do any of these illustrations resonate with you? Let me know in the comments below. Also, maybe you can find a tangible item (or a picture) and put it somewhere you can see, to remind yourself that even though it might be really hard right now, as you keep going, eventually it will get better.
One final thought: You might want to share this, so that others around you can get a better understanding that our grief is like…
Do you struggle with guilt from your child’s death? We would like to send you the eBook, Ten Tips to Overcome Guilt. Just submit your name and email address below. You will also begin to receive a Weekly Word of Hope for bereaved parents (which you can easily unsubscribe from at any time).
Expressions of Hope is provided by 
Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). The founders, Dave and Laura Diehl, travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, and bringing intimate weekend retreats to bereaved parents. Laura is also a singer/songwriter and the author of multiple award-winning books.
If you would like more information about bringing Dave and Laura to you for an event, please send an email to office@gpshope.org.
If you are interested in bringing GPS Hope to your area for a weekend retreat click here.
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or three years, grieving the death of our child is like having a full-time job with overtime! It consumes us. It takes everything we have, whether we want it to or not. It drains us, leaving us to feel like there is just no way we can go on.
We clock back in to our full-time job of grieving afterwards, but it isn’t all-consuming anymore, although we can still slip into overtime for a few days (even weeks) here and there.
to his suit, I just totally lost it. I even knew it was going to be there, but it affected me so much more deeply than I anticipated. I was out-of-sorts for a few weeks, having a hard time focusing and functioning. (Then seven weeks later my mother-in-law, whom I loved dearly, passed away in her sleep, which didn’t help at all!)
Where are you right now? Are you on overtime, fulltime, or part time grief? It’s all hard work, but the overtime is just outright brutal! If that’s where you are, what can you do to give yourself a short break now and then?
Marriage is always a work in progress. There is so much unknown on how we will each react during such a stressful time as the loss of a child. When we are struggling to find our own footing, how can we expect our spouses to find theirs? It is so easy during this time to just shut down and withdraw from each other.
At first, I was not really excited to receive these items. I came to realize that he wanted me to join him in something that he loved to do. If I ever came out of the bedroom dressed in my full get-up and said, “Are you ready to go climb a mountain?” my husband would think he had died and gone to Heaven.
someone than participating in something they enjoy? Who knows, we might find out something new about not only our spouses but also about ourselves. So, step out of your comfort zone and enter into the land of your spouse. Who knows what exciting adventure might be waiting for you?
and loves to not only infuse hope into grieving parents that they can live a full life again, but be an example of learning how to live a life of meaning and purpose that includes our child no longer here with us on earth. You do have full permission to live again, and it is not betraying your child to do so. 
Death doesn’t care. It doesn’t care about age. It doesn’t care about money or prestige. Death doesn’t care about fame. It doesn’t care about intelligence. Death doesn’t care about gender and it doesn’t care about ethnicity.
No matter what your personal view is on what is happening (or the why, for that matter) the fact is that racial tension is rampant in our nation right now.
As an adult, I still don’t!
…who fear for their children’s lives, with valid reasons.
We might be able to erase visual reminders of our history, but we cannot erase the effects of it, just like we cannot erase the effects the death of our child has on us no matter how much people around us think we should be over it by now or want us to get back to normal.
the harder the climb is and the less time we stay at the top. We find ourselves almost immediately tumbling back down the mountainside, back into the valley. With anything in life, mountaintop experiences are great, even exhilarating. But we don’t get to stay there. It is in the valley where most maturing happens and life-lessons are learned, including how much we need to depend on God to be our guide though this life.
It’s a good thing we can’t see the full path of our lives ahead of time. We can only take a little bit at a time. But that doesn’t mean every corner we turn is bad, it is just unknown what lies ahead. If we keep going, based on what we can see, and not worry about what we can’t see, we will eventually make it all the way.
one step at a time (sometimes one breath at a time) we will one day suddenly discover that we are doing better than we ever thought we could or would. At the time though, it feels like we can’t go on and things will never get better.
And if you are someone who has faced the death of your child, it is one of the worst traumas a person can go through on this earth. (You will find that experts support this, saying we are going through what is called “traumatic grief” and that five years and less is considered fresh grief for a parent who has lost a child.) You have been through a trauma and can possibly even be dealing with PTSD.
We are each on our own grief journey. Even if you are like me and have lost a child from this earth, there is no way I know how you feel. I know how I felt after my daughter died. I know the suffocating darkness I experienced. I know how I would forget to breath and have to consciously tell myself to take a breath. I know how I wanted to stop hurting so bad and how the darkness lasted for so much longer than I thought it should.
