Against my better judgement, I shared my thoughts about a CD, which my older brother had given me three years ago, on FB. I thought I would be relatively safe from any reproach because the text was in Spanish and most of my FB friends do not speak Spanish. But, I had underestimated the power of FB's translation on the spot. Therefore, as a result, I received many comments chiding me for my melancholy sentiments. I left the post there for half a day but then deleted it because the comments were starting to make me upset. This incident proved to me once again that the people who have not lost a child, have no clue as how to deal with such a loss. I know everybody meant well and was simply trying to help me in their own way, however, the suggestions were mostly cliche and superficial. Not that it was their fault - how could they possibly know how to alleviate the grief of a bereaved parent? How can happy songs make me happy? Would someone who has a missing limb ever forget about their missing limb when listening to a cheerful tune? Can one ever ignore the fact that one is in a wheelchair and not walking like other people? I have no doubt that everybody who has had a severe misfortune in life will find fleeting moments in which they may feel happy, but to expect them to be happy like someone who has never experienced similar hardships is unrealistic.
In every corner of our world, in every culture, the worst misery and misfortune which can befall a parent is the loss of his/her child. That is a universally accepted torment. We have all heard about it, read about it, seen it in movies, even cartoons, but still, most of us do not understand the depth of this misery unless we are faced with it. If it were easy to recover from such an affliction, it would not have been considered such a monumental heartbreak.
My point is that most bereaved parents stop sharing their feelings about their loss, not because they have left their grief in the past but because they do not wish to be rebuked by others for still hanging on to memories and their grief. That was the reason I stopped writing on this page after a year. The reaction I got to my latest FB post about the CD confirmed my observation that I can not share my true feelings with anyone but the people who are suffering from a similar pain.
Telling bereaved parents they should listen to happy music, stay active, go places, leave the past behind, etc. is ineffective. Frankly, most people have no idea how utterly futile those recommendations are because even if I go to the end of the world, my bleeding heart still will be with me, along with my memories. If I hear a piece of nice music, or see a good movie, or look at a beautiful piece of art, or visit a new area of our planet, I always, ALWAYS, miss Shahdi and wish she were there to experience all of those wonderful things with me. I admit that distractions are extremely helpful in alleviating the frequency of my flashbacks. However, it is impossible to be distracted all the time. Life inadvertently takes over and reminds me of my loss every single day, no matter where I am and what activity I am engaged in.
Therefore, simply because someone who lost a child appears to be doing well and enjoying life, does not mean that this individual is not hurting in private. Tolerance for grief by others or non-sufferers drops dramatically with the passage of time. Bereaved parents stop sharing their true feelings for the very same reason I deleted my recent post. We do not wish to be scolded and judged unjustly. Others' perception of our grief is very different from the reality in which we live.
Three and a half years after our tragedy, I no longer wear my grief on my sleeve but all it takes is a sound, a gesture, a word, a face, a smell, a song, a familiar object, and a kind reference to bring my grief out of hiding and to put it on full display. My lost child is part of my existence and will be until my end. The fact that I am breathing at this moment but she is not, is a manifestation of the cruelty of this unjust world. I may not talk about her much nowadays but her name is always on the tip of my tongue, ready to jump out. As many have told me, Shahdi may be with me at all times but what good is that if I cannot see her, feel her or talk to her?
In short, unless you are a member of this unfortunate club, you really have no idea how it feels to lose a child. I sincerely hope you are never ever admitted to this
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