dotsie, please don't feel less passion in the greif for your mom by comparing it to the loss of a child. losing a parent is simply a different kind of grief.

losing a child is so unnatural and that's why it is so devastating. no one expects to bury one's child so we react to it from a place we never expect to be. we expect to bury our parents, and that makes it less tragic, but no less sorrowful.

your mom was precious to you and a huge part of your life. the depth of your loss is known only to you. my dad died a little over a year ago leaving a huge empty hole in my heart where his love and support always resided. you know what i miss almost more than anything? when i go home to visit mom and we sit down to eat, dad isn't there to say the prayer. his prayers were always so simple and eloquent and always included me.

to bury a child is to bury the future. to bury a parent is to bury the past. we can only imagine what that future might have been but we at least carry the memories of the past. maybe that's what makes it a little more bearable when we lose a parent - there is a richness in knowing that a life was fully lived but such a sense of being cheated when it was not.

starting over, you asked "is there anything else at the bottom of this that is causing you empty feeling? Anything else you can identify--or is it simply a feeling of loss; loss of family, loss of control?"

losing my daughter is at the bottom of everything. my life before her death was as normal as could be. we had the same problems and joys as any average family. now, no matter what happens or what i do, that grief i carry for Missi is like an undercurrent that flows under it all. i recently wrote an article about that called "River of Grief" so will just add it here...

"Since the death of my daughter Melissa in 1994, I have experienced loneliness beyond what I ever imagined. I miss her companionship and the friendship we might have had.

I have family and friends who are wonderful in their loving and caring hearts. But no matter how much they empathize and miss Melissa themselves, only I know the true depth of her loss to me and the emptiness it has left in me. It is a very lonely place.

My grief flows like a river through my life. It is always there, sometimes quiet, a soft gurgle in the background. Other times it is turbulent and swollen, flooding over me, drowning out all that remains. Its constant presence is something I am learning to live with. Some events stay well out of its reach. Others bring me to its shores and into the swift current to drown without warning.

I have always been a strong swimmer but I have often been dragged to the river without the will to survive. I don’t mean I have been suicidal. I simply haven’t cared because if I stay here, I have love and support that keeps me afloat. But if I drown, I get to be with Melissa.

One little girl has become my lifeline to the shore. Her name is Brianna Melissa and she was born last February. She is my granddaughter. One day when I was holding her and thinking about how I would tell her about her Aunty Melissa, I realized that I actually wanted to live. I once again felt like I cared. Who else could tell Brianna what I could about the aunt whose name she bears? This was such a profound realization that all I could do was hold her and sob. It was the first time in eleven years that I felt the desire to truly live in the present and swim for my life.

The river of my grief still flows. I am still lonely for my daughter. I will always be. For now, though, I have a genuine desire to swim and live."

12/5/05

[ January 31, 2006, 03:03 PM: Message edited by: flipperjo ]