I’ve become friendly with other mothers that have lost a child. It’s a terrible club to which none of us want to belong. They are moms like me, they are my age, they live nearby. Knowing them and talking with them make me feel less isolated, less alone in this nightmare. We are going through this nightmare together.
One mom shared that for her, the second year was worse than the first. During the first, though you’re raw, you’re also in shock and numb, and this is actually a blessing. The second year, there’s no denying what has happened.
In “Lament for a Son,” Eric Wolterstorff describes the awfulness of the finality so well:”It is the neverness that is so painful. Never again to be here with us — never to sit with us at table, never to travel with us, never to laugh with us, never to cry with us, never to embrace us as he leaves for school, never to see his brothers and sisters marry. All the rest of our lives we must live without him. Only our death can stop the pain of his death.
A month, a year, five years — with that I could live. But not this forever.
I step outdoors into the moist moldy fragrance of an early summer morning and arm in arm with my enjoyment comes the realization that never again will he smell this…
One small misstep and now this endless neverness.”