When you lose a child, you inevitably lose people — people who you never thought would distance themselves from you. After the death of my daughter, there were several individuals who should have been my support system but disappeared instead, some not even bothering to offer their condolences. I convinced myself they simply didn’t know how to express their feelings or thought they would reach out later. Yet, days turned into weeks, and that silence stretched on for a month until it became too late for anything to be said.
You truly lose people when your child dies.
Some did stick around for a time, bringing flowers, gift cards, and homemade meals in foil trays, checking in on me regularly. These people included friends, family, and colleagues, and I wanted to believe they had good intentions. However, their sympathy faded quicker than my grief. One by one, they drifted away, like dandelion seeds carried off by the wind.
I didn’t remain the newly bereaved mother for long. But my heart still echoes the same sentiment: I miss my child.
Over time, I noticed that some of my friends grew weary of my sorrow. I could see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices, even if they tried to mask it. Others simply couldn’t bear my pain. And then there were those who didn’t create enough space for who I might become as a grieving parent.
It’s unacceptable for people to abandon you after claiming they will stay by your side. The initial pain is excruciating; it feels like a curse to lose those you love due to circumstances beyond your control. But then I remember my journey. My child has passed, yet somehow, I have risen and continued to move forward, even on the days when I felt utterly alone. I did this without their support, and I began to understand a vital truth: those who left were never truly needed; they were never really for me in the first place.
My grief has become an unexpected companion, one that comprehends my pain without attempting to “fix” me. It understands that my child’s death has left a part of me irreparably broken, and it allows me to be who I am. I wish my loved ones could embody that understanding.
I refuse to hide my identity as a grieving mother. I want to talk openly about my child without worrying about discomfort or judgment from those around me. I want to utter the word “dead” without receiving pitying looks. Most importantly, I long for what I can never reclaim — my baby.
I am a broken record, unfixable. I am a bereaved mother, and my plea is painfully familiar. This is who I am now, and I have accepted that this change within me is permanent. Accept me as I am, or do us both a favor and walk away.
As long as I am without my daughter, my grief will remain, woven into the fabric of my being. It serves as a bridge between this world and the one where my child resides. So please, don’t try to take that away from me. Allow me to embrace my grief, knowing it has been a more reliable support than many who promised to stand by me.
I have been uprooted from my previous life and thrust into a new existence that still feels foreign. I didn’t choose this path, but now that it’s here, I have no time for superficial friends. In a crowd, I will choose those who had every chance to leave but decided to weather the storm alongside me.
While you lose people when your child dies, you also gain incredible connections.
Some friendships deepen, forged in the fire of shared pain, while you meet others who never knew your child but whose empathy feels like an eternal bond. You suddenly find yourself part of an unrecognized community of mothers navigating the heartbreaking journey of child loss together.
You lose people when your child dies, and one of those people is often yourself. But, as paradoxical as it may seem, in that loss lies the potential for rediscovery.
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Summary
Losing a child often leads to losing people you thought would remain by your side, revealing the painful reality that not everyone can handle your grief. As a grieving mother, it’s vital to accept your new identity and embrace your grief, understanding that while some may leave, you may also find profound connections with others who empathize with your journey.