Our family is navigating deep grief a second time.
In January, my granddaughter, Holly, was gathered into the arms of Jesus after only two weeks on earth-almost to the minute.
Once again my children are plunged beneath the flood of hurt, pain, questions and sadness of child loss.
This time my oldest son and his wife are the center of the circle. Their sons are the immediate next ring. My two other earthbound children, my husband and I are slightly more removed.
But distance from the center does not necessarily indicate the degree to which the same loss might reignite old feelings, trauma, anxiety and unwanted physical, mental and spiritual responses to grief.
A grief circle is comprised of those most closely impacted by a loss.
The world likes to draw it tight because even if it doesn’t represent the reality of those involved. Expanding the circle expands the need for compassion and compassion might well demand action.
Drawing it smaller also gives the curious permission to ask personal questions from those close to the loss (and who may have information they desire) without feeling guilty about asking the question.
May I give a piece of (unsolicited) advice?
Please. Don’t.
Please don’t ask my children how I’m doing.
Please don’t ask my son and daughter, the uncle and aunt of Holly, how their brother is doing or how I am doing.
Please don’t ask my son how his wife is doing. He is also a parent of a child he can no longer hold.
Please don’t assume that being slightly removed from the center of loss means being removed from the pain and damage such a loss entails.
You are welcome to ask me anything. Both my experience and age mean I’m better equipped to answer or not answer as I am able.
I have found that Holly’s brief life and death have impacted me in ways I don’t understand and am still trying to process. She is my grandchild. I don’t love her less because her life on earth was brief.
Since I’ve walked this broken road, I am oh, so aware of what lies ahead for both my son and daughter-in-law as parents, their sons as surviving siblings and my own children as doubly grieved siblings.
I remember thinking when we gathered in the AirBnB the night after the long, long day Holly took her last breath how heavy, powerless and hopeless I felt.
No words could undo what had happened.
No hug could press the pieces of broken hearts back together.
No amount of wishing, wishing, wishing would turn back a clock that had relentlessly brought us forward to this very moment.
My family is knit together in ways and with bonds no one would choose.
We keep our phones with us “just in case”. We share travel itineraries, traveling companions’ contact information, and we answer phone calls from one another no matter where we are or with whom.
The grief circle is larger than most folks would like to admit and it remains intact over time and across distance.
There is no “fix” for grief.
No “getting over” or “past” loss.
There is moving forward and I am so, so proud of my family for choosing that hard path.
But here we are again.
And it is going to take more time than anyone outside our circle would like to admit.
thelifeididntchoose 