Compassion, Spring 2021

Spring 2021 - Compassion | www.tcf.org.uk 25 One lesson you learn over time is that although your loss remains at the forefront of your memory ad infinitum, those around you can soon forget. A few years after James died, a colleague who had attended his funeral, asked breezily if I was looking forward to Christmas. “I’m sure I’ll get through it”, I replied, and when he asked why I was looking so gloomy I had to remind him that I’d lost my son. “Oh yes, and I guess you still miss him”, he replied lightly, and the crass insensitivity of his remark, stunned me. The implication that one day I may not think about James any more, particularly at Christmas, was deeply hurtful. I suppose that only parents who have lost a child can understand the profound depth of the grief; the sense that the natural order has been disrupted and life will never again resume its old course. In some ways it is liberating not to be pre-judged or made allowances for, because I own this particular status. In certain scenarios, I am accepted simply as Andrea, not ‘Andrea, that poor lady who lost her son’. And when we moved to Devon three years ago, it was a while before I shared my story with others, preferring to have that liberation in various situations until I felt comfortable with sharing. But not speaking of James feels wrong too and when I get the balance right between the telling and the not telling, that is when I feel I am progressing along the path of grieving under my own impetus and control. During the course of 15 years I have encountered many responses to James’s death. After the initial shock, fear is a prevalent reaction. I call it the contagion of bereavement. People might think, “Oh my God, if it happened to her, it could happen to me”, and they figuratively step away, not wishing to know too much. Others say, “I didn’t like to ask about James. I feared it would upset you”. They do not realise, though, that I have faced the worst a parent can endure. Nothing can ever hurt me more than my son’s death. Over the years I have thought long and hard about how best to find the right balance when having conversations about bereavement of all kinds. In the case of child loss, I believe the best reaction is simple. If a parent tells you their child has died, simply respond that you’re very sorry to hear it. And if you want to know what happened, just ask them. Know too that no offence will be taken if you don’t. But don’t be afraid to say their name in subsequent conversations. Please don’t flinch, when I say the name, James. Grief is a conversational minefield, but we should learn to negotiate it with tact and delicacy. And the more open and uninhibited we can be about discussing it, the better it will be for all. Andrea Corrie www.tcf.org.uk/news/tcf-news/hope-of-finding-the-mourning-light-through-the-mist Don’t be afraid to say their name in subsequent conversations...