7 tcf.org.uk These are extremes, but we all know that it’s against natural law to outlive your child, and no one except other parents who have lost children should come close to comparing their grief with yours. And even these griefs have differences. On the subject of other bereaved parents, with them you’re part of a fellowship no one wants to join. For me, these conversations and friendships have been invaluable. 4. The most well-meaning people may still say the wrong thing For instance, when your beloved child has died, it is not comforting to be reminded that you have others. This was said to me, and of course the person intended it to be comforting. It was better (I guess) than being avoided entirely, but the most powerful words I ever heard were, ‘I’m so sorry she died. I have no idea how you must feel, and I don’t know what to say, but if you ever want to talk about her, I’m here.’ Also, I wish I’d known that you don’t always have to tell people truthfully how you’re doing. Sometimes, especially when I was having ‘a good day’ or could not predict someone’s reaction, I regretted opening up. Sometimes a simple, ‘I’m okay - thank you,’ would have done. You don’t owe people a total excavation of your emotions, just because they’ve asked. Sometimes, you just need to protect the open wound of your child’s loss. 5. All relationships shift I was not the same person after losing Juliette. I think people expected me to go back to being the person I was – I know there was a time that I expected that too – but it didn’t happen. Things that used to matter, just didn’t anymore and when my values changed, a lot of friends drifted away. But in their place, I gained important others who I’d trust with my life. And it’s not only friends. For me, family relationships changed too. This was unsettling, but I understand it better now. I realise I’d been a person fulfilling a certain role for which my life until then had shaped me. When Juliette died, these old moulds shattered. I’ve noticed that grief prompts a desperation to hold onto familiar ways of being - there certainly was for me – but change happens, and I’ve found freedom and peace in embracing it. 6. It won’t always feel this bad At first, I didn’t want this to be true. Grieving Juliette’s absence was the mirror of my love, so to wish that pain away felt utterly wrong. I needed the sorrow to manifest my outrage that she had died. In other moments, I knew I had to manage better so that I could give my other children the lives they needed and deserved. Now I know those feelings of loss don’t ever go. What’s happened is I’ve grown around them, so they don’t fill so much of me. 7. Happiness will have a different quality Feeling happy, or even wishing for it, made me feel like a heartless monster when my daughter had died. It’s different now. Twenty-two years on, into every moment of happiness my love for Juliette is infused. It’s there as a gold thread, a Kintsugi ceramic piece. My beautiful child is not with me, but my love for her always is, and that has to be enough. COMPASSION | FEATURE: SEVEN THINGS I DIDN’T KNOW (AND WISH I HAD) WHEN MY CHILD DIED Read more You can read more of Geves’s writing on her website geveslafosse.com
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