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What is Normal After Your Child Dies
I lost my fantastic son Taylor a few years ago. The grief is as raw as ever. Holidays make it worse of course, and seeing kids who resemble him make me cry. I'm a basketcase, and I just can't seem to move on. Long story. *sigh*
I hope the following helps explain to others who have not experienced the loss of a child to understand just how fundamentally our lives have changed.
What is Normal after your child dies?
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
Normal is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, X-mas, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 4th and Passover.
Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything anymore.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving the accident continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is having the TV on the minute you walk into the house to have noise, because the silence is deafening.
Normal is staring at every boy who looks like he is Taylor's age. And then thinking of the age he'd would be now. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.
Normal is every happy event in your life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in your heart.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of your "normal."
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your childs's memory and their birthdays and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.
Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special Taylor loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my son, Taylor.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. Nothing compares.
NOTHING.
Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare.
Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because you know your mental health depends on it.
Normal is realizing you do cry everyday.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone but someone stricken with grief over the loss of their child.
Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God.
"God may have done this because…"
I know Taylor is in "heaven," but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why a fantastic young man was taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did the laundry or if there is any food.
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or one child, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that Taylor is dead.
And yet when you say you have one child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed the dead child.
Normal is asking G-d why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a G-d.
Normal is knowing you will never get over this loss, not in a day nor a million years.
Normal is having therapists agree with you that you will never "really" get over the pain and that there is nothing they can do to help you because they know only bringing back your child back from the dead could possibly make it "better."
Normal is learning to lie to everyone you meet and telling them you are fine. You lie because it makes others uncomfortable if you cry. You've learned it's easier to lie to them then to tell them the truth that you still feel empty and it's probably never going to get any better -- ever.
And last of all...
Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to
feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal."
The above poem was originally written by Tara and Heath Carey after they lost their daughters Violet and Iris in 2002 when natural gas caused their apartment to explode.
I hope the following helps explain to others who have not experienced the loss of a child to understand just how fundamentally our lives have changed.
What is Normal after your child dies?
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
Normal is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, X-mas, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 4th and Passover.
Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything anymore.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving the accident continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is having the TV on the minute you walk into the house to have noise, because the silence is deafening.
Normal is staring at every boy who looks like he is Taylor's age. And then thinking of the age he'd would be now. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.
Normal is every happy event in your life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in your heart.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of your "normal."
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your childs's memory and their birthdays and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.
Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special Taylor loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my son, Taylor.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. Nothing compares.
NOTHING.
Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare.
Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because you know your mental health depends on it.
Normal is realizing you do cry everyday.
Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone but someone stricken with grief over the loss of their child.
Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God.
"God may have done this because…"
I know Taylor is in "heaven," but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why a fantastic young man was taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did the laundry or if there is any food.
Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or one child, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that Taylor is dead.
And yet when you say you have one child to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed the dead child.
Normal is asking G-d why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a G-d.
Normal is knowing you will never get over this loss, not in a day nor a million years.
Normal is having therapists agree with you that you will never "really" get over the pain and that there is nothing they can do to help you because they know only bringing back your child back from the dead could possibly make it "better."
Normal is learning to lie to everyone you meet and telling them you are fine. You lie because it makes others uncomfortable if you cry. You've learned it's easier to lie to them then to tell them the truth that you still feel empty and it's probably never going to get any better -- ever.
And last of all...
Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to
feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal."
The above poem was originally written by Tara and Heath Carey after they lost their daughters Violet and Iris in 2002 when natural gas caused their apartment to explode.
That's exactly how I feel over my daughters death on 4/27/15. But everyone tells me I should be over it. My daughter isn't as disposable to me as she was to her father and the rest of the world
That's exactly how I feel over my daughters death on 4/27/15. But everyone tells me I should be over it. My daughter isn't as disposable to me as she was to her father and the rest of the world
I have found this post because I was searching for "outside help". Losing my 19 year old daughter 3 1/2 years ago and I always think its going to get better, In ways I know I am not the wreck I was at first but also undertsand that I will never be the person I was before, NEVER. My husband died 10 years ago in a car accident, so my daughter and son were grieving the loss of their father all that time. Who would have thought that 6 years later she also would die in a car accident. My son is now my daily concern. I really dont know who or what I think or worry about more. When emotions started to become manageable,I thought, My very good friend lost her son in a car accident, her only, and OH MY GOD, It started all over again. I want to help her but sometimes I just have to be careful since this was just last Nov of 2014, that i dont say anything to make things worse for her. She is still VERY fragile and I feel I tell her too much about how it is for me that I will make her feel hopeless.
Anyone who has lost a child knows it is the most unbearable kind of death because it is not NORMAL. I dont pray for normal anymore, just be able to manage the rest of my life and be a mom to my adult son.
I will be watching this community post because I think sharing is helpful, for everyone
Anyone who has lost a child knows it is the most unbearable kind of death because it is not NORMAL. I dont pray for normal anymore, just be able to manage the rest of my life and be a mom to my adult son.
I will be watching this community post because I think sharing is helpful, for everyone
Thank you all for the kind words.
Here is the website that explains our sad story.
[email protected]
Here is the website that explains our sad story.
[email protected]
I lost my beautiful grandson on Sept. 16, 2014. I cry every day, some times it is just a quite cry and others it is a painful, gut wrenching screams. He was only 5, the accident happened exactly one month before his 6th birthday.
We spent every weekend together doing fun things or working in the yard (he loved doing Team Work and we would have to sing the Wonder Pets song about Team Work). I was there the day he was born and helped to raise him. I have devoted my whole life to him - to the point I didn't go out with friends unless they had kids and we did kid friendly activities - so now even though I am 55, the majority of my friends are parents of younger children - I don't have a lot my own age to help me get distracted, and those that I do have live far away.
I do not know how to move on with life without him, I am a Christian woman, but even my faith is not helping. I am so angry with God that he took him when we should of had so many more years together.
I returned to work a couple of weeks ago, and really am not doing much of anything, my mind will not let me concentrate on anything for more than about 30 minutes of less, then it goes back to thoughts of my Kaydin. I look at pictures of him, some days it gives me a little peace but most days it is so hard to look at his pictures and the pain comes back full force. As I scroll through Facebook, all of a sudden their is a picture of him - I am shocked at first and then cry and then I save the picture.
I really wish there was some way to help move forward with this grief - it hurts so much, people try to help out but like another had said, my emotions are all over the place - the other day I cussed out a bank teller when she asked me what denominations I wanted - I just went off on the poor lady, screaming like some crazy person. I cannot make the easiest of decisions. There are times that I wish I would just die so I can be with him, but then I watched the movie "What Dreams May Come" and got scared because according to the movie and the bible our loved ones will not necessarily look the same - I want to find the Kaydin I know and love, and it scares me to think I will not see his beautiful smile when I join him.
I want to find a website that will tell me definitively when I will feel somewhat normal again, when I will move forward and of course nobody gives you this information. I just don't know how to live my life now without Kaydin in it.
We spent every weekend together doing fun things or working in the yard (he loved doing Team Work and we would have to sing the Wonder Pets song about Team Work). I was there the day he was born and helped to raise him. I have devoted my whole life to him - to the point I didn't go out with friends unless they had kids and we did kid friendly activities - so now even though I am 55, the majority of my friends are parents of younger children - I don't have a lot my own age to help me get distracted, and those that I do have live far away.
I do not know how to move on with life without him, I am a Christian woman, but even my faith is not helping. I am so angry with God that he took him when we should of had so many more years together.
I returned to work a couple of weeks ago, and really am not doing much of anything, my mind will not let me concentrate on anything for more than about 30 minutes of less, then it goes back to thoughts of my Kaydin. I look at pictures of him, some days it gives me a little peace but most days it is so hard to look at his pictures and the pain comes back full force. As I scroll through Facebook, all of a sudden their is a picture of him - I am shocked at first and then cry and then I save the picture.
I really wish there was some way to help move forward with this grief - it hurts so much, people try to help out but like another had said, my emotions are all over the place - the other day I cussed out a bank teller when she asked me what denominations I wanted - I just went off on the poor lady, screaming like some crazy person. I cannot make the easiest of decisions. There are times that I wish I would just die so I can be with him, but then I watched the movie "What Dreams May Come" and got scared because according to the movie and the bible our loved ones will not necessarily look the same - I want to find the Kaydin I know and love, and it scares me to think I will not see his beautiful smile when I join him.
I want to find a website that will tell me definitively when I will feel somewhat normal again, when I will move forward and of course nobody gives you this information. I just don't know how to live my life now without Kaydin in it.
I also wanted to say I ask God the same question, why give and then take, that wasn't our deal as if I could control this nightmare.
I do have a journal I write in frequently to my son expressing my deep grief and love for him, telling him how much I miss him, and other things as well. Poems or bible verses, whatever I am feeling at the time. I decorated the outside of this journal with patriotic stickers, he loved his country so.
I do have a journal I write in frequently to my son expressing my deep grief and love for him, telling him how much I miss him, and other things as well. Poems or bible verses, whatever I am feeling at the time. I decorated the outside of this journal with patriotic stickers, he loved his country so.
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