When your child dies at any age a part of you dies with them. Whether they only lived within the womb or whether they lived thirty years, a part of you is lifeless. The question you must ask yourselves is: What are you going to do with that missing piece? Can it ever be filled? If so, what will it be filled with?
When my grandfather died, I felt as though my heart would break. He practically raised me, and to have him pass away was just plain sad. Then my father died and that heartbreak happened. To have him taken from this earth at the young age of 53 was just too much for me “a daddy’s girl.”
I was in disbelief for so long that I even thought I saw him in crowds and I dreamt about him nightly. Shortly thereafter, my son died and my heart didn’t break; it was as if a hole had been punctured right through the already weakened layers. I thought my life had officially ended.
The death of anyone or anything close to us may feel like the end of the world, but I’m here to tell you it isn’t. I rose above the tragedies that befell me. It took time, perseverance, and support, but it can happen.
At first, I wallowed in my misery. Sometimes I feel like that is necessary, tears are very healing. However, after a time, I realized I could get stuck in my misery-rut permanently if I didn’t change something. So I decided to change how I viewed the world around me.
I had been focusing for so long on the negative in my life, and all of the calamities that had presented themselves to me that I made a goal to try and find something positive in everything I encountered. It was hard to do at first. For example, how do you find pleasure in a vehicle cutting you off in traffic? Or how do you find joy in the telemarketer on the phone calling in the middle of dinner on Sunday night?
But I was determined, so I did. The person cutting me off in traffic must have been needed somewhere quickly; the telemarketer was just trying to make a living. The list goes on, but the one thing I noticed over time was that my entire demeanor changed.
The more I did for others and tried to focus on positive things, the more the hole in my heart began to fill in. Slowly, little-by-little, I started thriving, not just surviving.
There is a phenomenon that happens when you give a little of yourself: the world gives something back to you. I will always have those missing pieces of my heart, but they are now covered gently with the acts of kindness I do toward others. Each and every minute of every day I miss my loved ones, but life is more bearable when I think of them watching over me as I help others in their memory.
I challenge you to try this radical approach and reach out to others in loving memory of the angels in your life. The rewards you reap will be greater than the ones you receive while wallowing in desolation.