CHAPTER 10, PART 1

I once read a quote by Elizabeth Stone: “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” No matter how long we live, unless we have a neurological trauma, our child stays in our hearts. The memories of the first words, first step, first smile … this list could go on forever in different ways for every child that has died. We will not, cannot, nor do we want to, forget. It bothers us if we do not remember a specific incident or smile about this child. But even if the memories of events fade, the love will not.

CHAPTER 10, PART 2

The problem lies in that we have these deep abiding feelings, and underlying these feelings is a secondary fear that others might forget. A student shared her story with me a few nights ago of how her mother, we’ll call her Cheryl, reacted to the death of the student’s brother. It’s been over twenty years, but each anniversary of his death remains a time of trauma for Cheryl, as the teenager died on Christmas. This is a heart-breaking time for Cheryl, but it spreads beyond personal grief into making the holiday a heart-breaking and tense time for her daughter, grand-daughter, husband and any other family member concerned.

CHAPTER 10, PART 3

Perhaps part of Cheryl’s reluctance to enjoy this part of life again, if only for her other family members’ sakes, is the thought that if Cheryl does participate, her son will have been forgotten. A celebration of the holiday might make her feel as though he doesn’t exist in other people’s minds anymore, and she commits treachery to his memory to allow this to happen. Rationally, our child is no more dead on the anniversary of the death day than any other day of the year, but our minds do not react rationally.

CHAPTER 10, part 4

I have a logical, (some might consider cold), perspective on the death of my son. I feel that probably only my immediate family and his very closest friends will forever have Logan in their hearts. Twenty years from now, he will be a distant memory to his cousins and perhaps even my brothers. Of course, my son and daughter will hold him closer in mind, but the reality remains, after anyone dies, unless the person has a historical legacy, the memories die away with the people that knew the deceased. Perhaps Cheryl at Christmas wants to keep the personal aspect of her son’s memory alive.

CHAPTER 10, part 5

An interesting phenomenon happened to me this afternoon. A close friend, Mary, called to tell me she had dreamed of Logan and me. Logan was sitting as she remembered him, and Mary told him I was having fun. In the dream, I was on my way to see him and he was excited to see me. That she casually mentioned this dream to me did not make me sad. On the contrary, I felt glad that Mary remembers my son enough to dream about him. It made me feel as though he lives on in others, too.

Often, friends feel reluctant to mention the dead child’s name in casual conversation, worried that it might hurt the parent. My experience has been that I welcome it when people who knew and loved Logan speak about him. It means they still remember. I do not take offense and the women I have interviewed seem to want to talk about their children. This communication keeps the children in the present instead of the past.

CHAPTER 10, part 6

I would think that the younger your child is at the time of death, the more gripping this fear of others forgetting them might be, even if we are unaware that it exists on a conscious level. Logan died at the age of twenty-five and had many friends, one of whom gave their son the middle name Logan after him. My grandson’s middle name is Logan. I’ve known some of Logan’s friends since their birth, so when I see them, we both know he has not been forgotten. If a child is very young, he or she has not had time to develop a destiny, so the tears must be particularly strong for “what might have been” for that parent.

CHAPTER 10, part 7

Doreen mentioned that she thinks about her late son, who died at 14-hours-old, in terms of what might have been, as she had no time to spend with him and develop lifelong memories. The child’s age at death can produce different forms of grief. Twenty-five years is a long time for a child’s life to have been welded to your own with memories and a strong bond of love, so this gives more cues for grief. In my case, Tabasco sauce, surfboards, or certain music can rekindle the grief. On the other hand, unlike the person who has lost a very young child, I have these memories to fall back on that the parents of a young child do not have for comfort, so their grief takes the form of what the future will not hold.

CHAPTER 10, part 8

ACTIVITY

Create a legacy of your child in your heart. Write down five qualities about him/her that you treasured and then try and incorporate those qualities into your daily life. A psychologist friend of mine told me of this, and it seems a good technique. If a baby died young, you can think of the hope you had, celebrating new beginnings, innocence, perhaps a calmness the baby had, the love you and others felt, the expectations and excitement of the birth. I celebrate Logan’s wit, his acceptance of life, his laugh, his love of children and his love of dogs.

You can also donate to a cause annually, volunteer for an organization, or find places where you can dedicate your child’s name. Your child mattered.