Losing a Child is Like Losing a Limb

“Losing a child is like losing a limb. You don’t ‘get over’ the grief, but you can learn to function alongside it.”

I swallowed the last of my lukewarm coffee and let out a constricted sigh. 

It had only been three weeks since Carla and I had said goodbye to our 10-year-old daughter, Aria. 

And here, at the first (and only) grief support meeting we’d managed to drag ourselves to, we collided with the cold, stark fact that there was going to be no “getting over it.” Ever. 

The deep lines in the group leader’s face were evidence enough of that hard truth. 

At the time, he was seven years into his own “grief journey” - the same place where Carla and I are today.

And if were going to offer any advice a newly bereaved parent, it would be the same thing. 

In my last few days of “bottoming out” with Jim Beam and Pall Malls (a year-long stretch when I skipped eating for entire days and nearly forgot how to bathe), the grief group leader’s comment kept resurfacing in my mind. 

I mean, I’d been trying to drink myself to death for a year, and that wasn’t panning out. 

Plus, I was getting kinda tired of smelling like the dumpster behind the Drunken Goat. 

So one morning, I stumbled up the stairs - still half-drunk from the night before - and into Aria’s playroom for the first time since she died. 

To this day, I’m still not really sure what prompted that. But I’m grateful.

What I saw was the joy Aria had created while “functioning alongside” an illness that wasn’t ever going to go away. 

Much like me, Aria lived in her own little world. While she loved her friends (all of whom struggled with being differently abled), she was frequently singled out by “mainstream” kids, and occasionally by walnut-brained adults.

When she was in her flow, though, none of that mattered to her one bit. 

She accepted how people outside her circle viewed her. 

She accepted that she could not control what they thought or said.

And she chose not to let it poison her joy.

I feel that’s the lesson she wanted others to benefit from. 

To make that happen, Carla and I have had to accept that we’re responsible for carrying her torch. And do it alongside the heaviness we know is both our burden and our brilliance.

It’s still grief.

But it’s productive grief that elevates the greater good. 

“Functioning alongside” a totally unfair limitation doesn’t mean acting in spite of it. 

What it means is to extract the meaning out of it and use it to create something positive that you never would have thought of otherwise. 

What about you? What have you been trying forever to “get over,” and how can you function alongside it to shine a light for yourself and your people?

#life #linkedin #success