I’ve had many parents say to me, ” I don’t know how I would survive the loss of a child. I’d want to die with them”.
I’ve been told that I’m very strong to be living with this.
I don’t know about being ” strong”. Because I’m not. I’ve been resilient through out my life because I’ve had to be. But I wouldn’t say I’m strong. And this time, I wouldn’t even say I am resilient either.
Being a mother to four children, my biggest fear in life was something happening to one of them because I didn’t know how I would survive or how i would be able to be there for the surviving three. In fact, like any other parent: I would want to die. I didn’t though: I’m still here.
There are many days – most days in fact that I wish I could just let go and free fall into the whatever there is after this life. I’d be content if I found out I had cancer tomorrow. How fucked up is that? It’s not that I want to leave my surviving children : I love them more than life. It’s just that the pain of loss oftentimes is more than I can handle.
I’ve never had a favorite child although I have been told many a time by my children that I do. I hated it when they would say that. None of them ever said Sam was my favorite though. Poor Sam : he lived his life always feeling like he just didn’t matter as much as the others. He did though. He meant everything to me. Just like his siblings : each one meant/means the world. All of them are my whole universe. My role in this lifetime was to be their mother. None of the other stuff matters.
I talked to Sam alot in the last few years. He would often call me on his way home from work (when he was married he wasn’t “allowed” to call me from home so he would call on his way home). In the last year of his life he called me almost daily – sometimes twice a day. He always seemed to know when I was headed to the store and we would chat on the drive; often times he would call me when I was driving home from the next town. I have a hard time driving alone now. I miss hearing his voice over the speaker. I was never sure if he called because he worried that I was lonely, or if it was because he was lonely. I know that I am lonely now.
I miss him.
Strength and resilience : I have neither. I just keep going. Another day, and then another and another and another. I feel stuck: as I have said before, I feel like I am in pergatory. Just like any other parent – I have said in the past that I wouldn’t want to survive the loss of one of my children. I can honestly say that didn’t change after I lost Sam. Like any other parent, I still don’t want to survive the loss of my child.