Aside from devastating anguish, losing your child will undoubtedly have a profound impact on your sense of identity and may have you questioning your very purpose. You may struggle to understand who you are without your child and if you’re anything like I was in the early years after my son passed away, you may have a pervasive sense of disconnection. From yourself. From your actual body and from everyone around you. From everything you thought was real.

• You might feel guilty if you smile, or worse—if you laugh. 
• Shame. Shame is a big one. Where did you go wrong?
• Evaluating yourself as a parent. 
• Reliving and questioning every word, every decision. 
• Self-blame. 

Do you question your ability as a caregiver? Were you enough? Were you too much? What about all of our perceived failures as parents?  It isn’t fair. You don’t get the gift of witnessing the fruits or the forgiveness of watching your child grow up. 

Or, perhaps you did get to see them grow up? Up and into adulthood and that’s where it ended. This can further complicate your sense of identity and lead to a sense of confusion and disorientation. What could you have done to prevent this? 

Regardless of how old your child was when they left you for their next life or went to Heaven—however you feel safe interpreting death-- the grueling aftermath will likely have you grappling with existential questions about mortality overall and the fragility of life. The isolation is quite imagined but also, so very, very real. You have been pulled into a portal. I want to tell you this is no mistake. This is your path with grief as your sacred teacher.

I remember I wanted everyone but also no one to understand. It can feel, quite literally, like you are on a far-away planet in your own mind. I felt this and I couldn’t stop feeling it. I did not yet understand. This was my path. 

I longed for a community to hold me up and at the same time I rejected everyone who tried.  I didn’t have the verbiage for it then, but I wanted so badly to be seen. I wanted help in navigating the complex and overwhelming emotions in the aftermath of my tragedy. At the same time, this was my tragedy and I needed to keep it close and guard it. 

Don’t you dare try to make me feel better. 

I had no idea that all of this was normal. That this, this tragedy was my path.

 The loss of your child was an initiation. Quite likely there has been a profound impact on your spiritual beliefs and practices. Many people may question their faith or struggle to find meaning in the face of such a tragic event. This is where we start to dig deep and remember who we are. 

This is where we bring all of our disillusionment to the table. This is the time where we transform sorrow into wisdom. This is when we get to ask questions and find out we had all the answers all along. You are your very best ally, but only when you surrender. Your pain, your heartache—it won’t last forever. Why? Because the heart is made of water and the mind is made of fire and the essence of both is change. 

Spiritual practices such as prayer, meditation, and connecting with a religious community can provide a source of support and comfort for those grieving the loss of a child. These practices can help individuals find a sense of peace and acceptance in the midst of their pain, and provide a space for reflection and healing. 

If none of this “works”, if any of this falls short, I invite you with me on a very different kind of journey where we do not run from pain, rather, we witness it, shape it, and let it shape us all the way back to the love which will remove the deepest of stains on your spirit. 

Your child was love. Your child remains Love. 

All Becomes Love.