It is a harsh word.
I understand completely that some parents don’t want to use it to describe their child and I respect that.
I have chosen to use it often (not always-sometimes I say “left” or “ran ahead to heaven”) because what happened IS harsh. I don’t want to soften it because there was nothing soft about it for me or my family.
It is heartbreaking, lonely, heavy, hard and utterly devastating.
Read the rest here: Why I Say, “My Son Died.”
I know it makes some people uncomfortable when I speak of Dominic.
They aren’t sure whether to join in or ignore my comment and hope I change the subject.
I get it-they are wondering whether my continued interest in my missing child is a sign of mental illness (she’s “stuck” in grief) or a delusion or wishful thinking. They have no frame of reference other than an elderly relative whose passing into eternity was a more orderly and expected event.
But out of order death is wrenching and traumatic and not the way things are supposed to be. A parent doesn’t stop thinking about or talking about or loving his or her child simply because they have been robbed of their physical presence.
I speak of my son because he is STILL MY SON.