When Others Want to Know Why You Aren’t ‘Over’ the Death of Your Child

Lately, the question I have been getting the most is, “How do I get the people around me to understand why I am still grieving the death of my child so deeply?”

We already feel like we are going crazy, and having family and friends tell us we “should be past this by now” may have us locked in a world of deep anger, or wondering if maybe we are losing it and need to see someone for help or to be locked up.

Here are some things you may not be aware of. As a parent who has faced the death of their child:

  1. The death of one’s child is considered by most professionals to be one of the most (if not the most) traumatic event a person can deal with in life.
  2. The death of our child causes deep grief. Deep grief causes physical changes in our bodies, such as our immune system is compromised (we get run down and pick up illnesses easily) chemicals in our brain change (causing things like fogginess and confusion) and there are changes within the heart itself (which can even cause heart-attack like symptoms which need to be checked out). Some of these changes last for years, and we may need help from a doctor or natural health practioner to get our bodies back in order.
  3. Studies have shown that for those who have lost a child, anything under five years is considered fresh grief!

Those three things right there can be shared with those who may be wondering why we are still having problems when it has been a year, or two, or three, or four or five.

How about offering them some comparisons that might help as well?

  1. If someone has an amputation, first they have to heal, both physically and emotionally, from having that body part cut off. (And the emotional healing often takes much longer than the physical.)

Then they have to learn how to function and do everything differently with that part of them missing. Even when that happens, they are reminded multiple times a day that that body part has been cut off, because of how they are forced to live differently in a way that helps them adapt to the loss.

Some days it is easy, some days it is a struggle to stay positive and “not care”, and other days it hits them full force (almost like a it just happened), no matter how long ago the amputation happened.

We have had our child amputated from us, and everything that an amputee has to go through, we do as well, only multiplied and much more intensely.

  1. Someone who has gone through a traumatic experience can often find themselves with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

I don’t think anyone can deny that it is a traumatic experience to walk behind your child’s casket and bury them, or to bring your child home as ashes in an urn. And for those parents who found their child’s body, or many other possible scenarios, the PTSD can be even worse.

Just like anyone who has faced a deep trauma, it takes a long time to be able to function again, and there are triggers that will have to be dealt with for the rest of their lives.

  1. If we go on a trip for the weekend, (or several days on a business trip or get-away of some kind) do we usually check on our kids to see how they are doing because we miss them and want to know they are doing okay? When our child goes somewhere for the week (like summer camp) do we miss them and can hardly wait for them to come home so we can hug them tight and hear their stories? Is it considered normal to miss a child deeply if they are gone for a month (maybe a mission’s trip or off to college)? Within that long separation, isn’t there usually communicate in some way? Texting, Facetime, Skype, or at least emails with them?

How would you feel if you couldn’t do any of that? How would you feel if your child left the country, for two years? It would be hard, but you would be okay, knowing at the end of those two years he or she would be back, right? How about if they were leaving for ten years and you absolutely knew there would be no way to communicate with them? Would you be a bit of a mess for at least part of that time?

What if that were for the rest of your child’s life? You knew for sure that you would never ever talk to them, never see them, never ever again hear them laugh, never hear them say, “I love you”, never know what they look like as they age, and you would never ever again be able to hug them or give them your love?

Welcome to our world. Only yours is just imagining it. Ours is reality. For the rest of our lives. Period.

  1. Have you had one of your parents die? Maybe a grandparent, aunt, uncle, or a good friend that you were really close to? Have you quit missing them? At certain times of the year, or when something triggers a memory, does your heart ache, and do you maybe cry a few tears? That is how we feel every day because every day there are triggers, reminding us that our child is no longer here with us.

For instance, when we see their favorite cereal that we will never buy for them again, when we hear a song they used to dance silly or sing loudly to, on the first day of school every year, every holiday (especially Mother’s Day/Father’s Day), on their birthday, on their anniversary death date when they left this earth forever, when we see a certain car, or during a thunderstorm because they loved (or were scared of) storms, when our favorite team plays and we no longer hear him or her cheering with us or ranting with us, when we think of something funny and want to tell our child and then remember we can’t, when we want to show them something we bought that they would get a kick out of… and the list never ends.

I know we desperately want those around us to extend grace to us in our horrible loss, allowing us to grieve deeply the way that we need to and is normal for someone who has lost a child. Unfortunately, way too often that just doesn’t happen.  The people around us want us to get back to normal and go on with life as though it’s no big deal our child has died.

And how could someone who has not had their child die possibly know what it is like? Plain and simple, they can’t. Which is why it is so important to connect with those who can.

At Open to Hope, we are here for you, along with other groups (such as Grieving Parents Sharing Hope/GPS Hope, Bereaved Parents USA, Umbrella Ministries, and others). Make sure you look until you find those who you feel you feel comfortable with and easily connect with, based on the hope and encouragement they give.

The death of our child was an event, but grieving their death is a process, a very long process that will affect us deeply for the rest of our lives. Friends and family may not understand, but we do. You are not alone.


Laura Diehl

More Articles Written by Laura

Laura Diehl, along with her husband, Dave, are the founders of GPS Hope: Grieving Parents Sharing Hope, which extends hope and healing to all grieving parents through a growing list of resources and a loving community to encourage one another in their unique, difficult journey. GPS Hope was started after the death of their oldest daughter, Becca, who left this earth on October 12, 2011. Becca died from heart damage caused by chemo drugs given to her at age three when she was diagnosed with cancer, at which time she also had her left leg amputated. (So the comparison of the death of a child being like an amputation is a very personal one for Laura.) On Becca’s 28th birthday, she had her second open heart surgery to insert a six pound pump which ran the right side of her heart, hoping to get Becca healthy enough to be put on the heart transplant list. Becca had a stroke shortly after receiving the pump, which was one of a dozen ambulance rides and the first of three emergency medical helicopter flights in her last eighteen months of life here on this earth. Photos and more details of Becca’s story are on the GPS Hope website (www.gpshope.org). Laura has written five books, including When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life With Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child (Morgan James Publishing, New York, 2016) and My Grief Journey: Coloring Book and Journal for Grieving Parents. Dave and Laura live in Southern Wisconsin, and Laura loves to travel, which is good because she has traveled as an ordained minister for many years both nationally and internationally to well over a dozen nations. They are the parents of five children (including Becca who is already with the Lord) and a growing legacy of grandchildren. GPS Hope has a Facebook page to offer words of encouragement to bereaved parents at www.facebook.com/gpshope . Laura also puts out a short weekly video on YouTube, which can be subscribed to. Just search for her channel by name, Laura Diehl. One of the areas Laura is personally passionate about within the world of grieving parents is to walk with those whose faith in God has been shattered because of the death of one’s child. She is available as a speaker and/or minister, and can be contacted by email at [email protected]


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  • Constance Howell says:

    I am lost, its been a year and 4 months. It is not getting any better. There are times I feel my life is over. Iam not handling this well.

  • Vicki says:

    I lost my beautiful daughter to leukemia. It was 8 months from diagnosis to her passing.
    I feel crippled. She was a normal 23 year old girl planning her future. She died May 4th 2018.
    Still feel like she’s gonna walk through the door.

  • Laura Diehl says:

    Constance, I am so very sorry. One year and four months is still very fresh grief, and for many of us, the second year is even harder than the first, so if you feel that way, it is “normal.” I did send you an email. I hope you received it.

  • Laura Diehl says:

    Oh Vicki, my heart goes out to you! I had the experience of having my daughter go through chemo as well. But she was three years old, and also had her leg amputated as the cancer was in her bone. The chemo caused heart damage, which she battled with for 10 years in her adult years. She needed a heart transplant, but never got that far, as her heart finally gave out. She was 29.

    This is a slow, painful process, and we are here to walk with you.

  • Reuben says:

    My daughter passed away on 24 March 2018. Suddenly with no known illness. We are battling to understand or even accept she is gone. Just 20 years old.

  • claudine degraeve says:

    my son Ted died of a heart attack nearly 8 months ago He was 37 years oldSo sudden I am so heartbroken I wake each day Ted is my first thought I spend all day trying not to cry Iv learnt to pretend, to just get thru a day I have felt less alone only when Im at the monthly group for bereaved parents or now this site I have just found I keep reading and reading You guys get it most people just dont I have 3 other children and Teds son we are a very broken hearted family each with their different ways of grieving the loss of Ted
    I am still unable to look at photos of him youger than about 18 years
    I still wake up in disbelief I will not see my son again
    I have had a “visit dream” my family call them It was of such comfort but only one!

  • Cathy Arena Dryslewski says:

    I cry every day for my son Steven. I can’t deal with this. The only reason that I am still here is because I have a dog who he loved and he is here with me. I am getting a divorce from an abusive man after 30+ years of marriage, filed in 2015, he was abusive and a cheater who I stopped having a relationship with after Steven was born. Steven despised him and would come see me every day when he was not here. The day before he died he called me and said he was very sick and could I meet him at the DR. Yes he was put on 2 strong antibiotics and was in alot of pain. Steven was 27 and died in 2011. I remember the next day when Steven didn’t answer the phone at 10am I knew something was wrong. As I was heading out the door my soon to be ex came walking in and forced himself to go with me (he was always done by 10:30am but got out of work early that day). I had a key to Steven’s condo and his security lock was on and I as the ex to knock in the door and he wouldn’t. I was hysterical. The ex called the cops who debated whether to knock it down, they finally did and I pushed past them and found my son. They made me leave and sit in the hallway. There was never any compassion from anyone, they forced me to leave and when I got home the ex had people over and they drank and laughed. I went in my bedroom closed the door and cried. He picked the locked and brought in my so called mother who said I was hysterical. I could here the laughter in the house. I wanted to be alone so I walked through the house and told everyone this was not a party for them to get drunk and get the fuck out.Things went completely downhill from there. I really should say things were bad with the ex before since he raped me and I got pregnant with the 3rd kid. I had no one who would ever love me and care about me the way Steven did. He hugged me as we were leaving the dr and said that he loved me. That was normal for him to do. I will never have that again. He was the only one who was going to go to the neurosurgeon the Friday of the week that he passed away, to make sure that my tumor in my skull was removed. I gave birth to 2 other children who I no longer speak to and they made it that way. I will NOT try to reach out to any so called family members since I finally went to get my tumor removed in 2016 after finally speaking to a neurosurgeon. I kept my Steven’s picture and his dog tags with me during surgery. I called the so called family, told them where and when the surgery was going to be done and they told me I was a liar. I have never heard from them again.
    I remember how I was treated as I walked behind his casket and was alone. This was before I filed for divorce. Everyone else went on as if Steven was never here. I can’t do that. Steven was my only child who ever cared about me and stood up for me.
    I know I am rambling but I put on a front for everyone else and feel like I am wrong for even living. I talk to Steven everyday and know that he would want me to be here to take care of Zeus. I have a a few good friends who try to make sure that I amok but I fake it. It hurts to live like this

  • Laura Diehl says:

    Reuben, I am so very sorry about your daughter. You are at the very beginning of this long journey without her. I cannot imagine not knowing the cause of death. We are here to walk this journey with you through the darkness.

  • Laura Diehl says:

    A heart attack at age 37… we sure don’t expect that, do we? I am really sorry, and I am so glad you are spending time with other bereaved parents. That is one of the best things you can do for sure, as you have quickly discovered others just don’t get it. And how could they? I know I sure didn’t before I lost Becca from this earth. And yes, we all grieve the loss differently. Seven years later I still watch how the four remaining siblings each deal differently with their sister’s death. One day, one breath at a time is how we make it through.

  • Laura Diehl says:

    Cathy, what a tragic story. I am so very sorry your family has not been there for you, in your illness or in Steven’s death. Of course you were hysterical, that was a natural reaction as his mom. I don’t understand why those around you didn’t console you, and I hurt for you in feeling so alone through all of it.

    We are honored and blessed to carry Steven with you, and remember his life with you. You are not alone, we are here with you, and know the darkness you are fighting every day. I hope you stay connected with Open to Hope and others who “get it.” That seems to help us the most, to be able to talk with and be with those who have faced the same trauma of the death of our children.

  • Alana Abel says:

    I lost my 2nd Son aged 35 on 16th January this year, all through prsecibed drugs from his Doctor,i warnded his Doctor late last last Summer 2017 also start of December 2017, they did nothing, even prescribed him more opiates, also a new pill which can supress breathing as did some of the other pills he was on, I cry every day, uncontrollably a lot of the times, I feel my heart is going to explode. I also lost my 1st born Grandaughter to Neuroblastoma cancer 6years ago. Just way too much to contend or believe.

  • Angela Chambers says:

    Our son Robert passed away on November 8, 2018, he was 28 years old. The pain we feel is so deep, confusion and looking for him to walk through the door is constant. I feel so empty inside and and don’t know how I am going to make it.

  • Laura Diehl says:

    Alana, I am so very sorry about your son. That is so very difficult for sure. This is still so very fresh for you. I hope there was something in what I wrote that helps, if just the tiniest bit.