Do Others Understand?

Day 676.

People often say, as do those of us that have lost a child, that others cannot possibly know how we feel.

And yet the notion is represented so often in films and literature. All those screenwriters and authors who write so well about it - is it really possible that they all know by experience?

The words “I’d give anything to see my son again just for one minute and hold him” were on my TV screen tonight. Something similar, somehow, seems to be on my TV most nights. Maybe it’s like when you are pregnant, pregnant women appear to be everywhere.

These hundreds of alludings that I hear, see, are indeed triggers, but I welcome them to my heart, as I feel understood. Yes, they make me sob. But I feel heard, seen, validated.

The agony of this loss - I think maybe people do know what it means, even though they may not (God forbid) experience it. Is this because the greatest human fear is to be where I am?

And to those who think others do not know how we feel - I think that on some level, they do. They fear it so much that some can hardly go there - and so there’s the clue, because it is to be feared.

And it’s every bit as fucked up as you could possibly imagine, maybe more. In fact, it’s so fucked up, that even those of us who live it, don’t really comprehend or know what this is.

The quest to unravel it is so complex. Every day, every hour, a new twist, unpredictable, painful - the unknown path of grieving for a child.