One of the hardest parts of blogging for me is that I am committed to authenticity. As best as I am able, I try to be honest and transparent.
This entry was tricky.
I never, ever want to minimize ANYONE’S pain-in my mind there is no hierachy of misery. But I also want to let those outside the child loss community see how much it hurts to have our loss compared by others to their very different losses. We would much rather you simply take our hand or hug us or sit silently with us on the mourning bench.
So, here it is. I hope you receive it in the spirit in which it is intended.
It is just so hard to accept that remaining silent is often better than saying the wrong thing.
It seems like every quiet space MUST be filled with chatter-especially in our overstimulated world of screens and noise boxes.
But, I promise-if you and I are speaking, and I choose to expose my heart-I would rather you take my hand or hug my neck and say nothing than tell me, “I understand exactly how you feel.”
Unless, of course, you do.
If you have buried a child, then please, please, please tell me that! We will cry together.
But there is no comparison between losing an aged aunt, full of years, and losing a child, full of promise.
There is no comparison between losing a job, a house or a dream-any of which have the potential for restoration in this life– and losing a child–whom I will not see until I reach heaven.
There is no comparison between losing a pet and losing my son.
It’s the difference between being hungry because you skipped lunch and starving to death because you don’t have access to food or water.
One is uncomfortable and the other is excruciating.
So, while I deeply appreciate your desire to empathize with me, please don’t try to stretch your limited experience with loss to include my own.
It hurts my heart and minimizes my pain.
There’s just no comparison.