THE SUN RISES and SETS

Where does one begin? You have to start somewhere, and I’m no procrastinator, so let’s get started before the sun goes down! I thought about writing this book and quickly decided to do it. If everyone took a backseat and hoped others would handle something, it would never get done.

I decided to write this book about the loss of my son, Michael, not for me but for you. I wanted to share my experiences and some coping strategies that might assist you. This book touches on many topics, and you’ll experience some of them and even others on your journey through the grief process if you have lost a loved one, particularly a son or daughter. You are embarking on a difficult journey, and you have to find the strength to move forward. You will undoubtedly never be the same, but you will survive.

I could have started my novel perhaps with giving you great hope that everything will be okay, but that’s not my style. I don’t sugarcoat things; your loss is great enough. You will survive, but to your ability and in your own time. Believe in yourself and do things in stride but with caution.

We all have different stories, but we can learn from the journeys taken by family, friends, acquaintances, and anyone else who has lost a loved one.

My journey will take you through a brief history of my family, the different situations I have encountered with the passing of my son, the coping strategies I used, and how I handled some bewildering situations and thoughts.

I hope my advice will benefit you. I don’t consider this book as a self-help book but an “our loss” book, a category you’d never find online or in a bookstore. This book also takes on a twist—how religion and my intuitive side helped me. Each chapter offers different topics.

My gifts and abilities helped me cope with my loss and sadness. Crying doesn’t make you a weak person; it shows you are human. The days will come and go, but how you handle them is up to you. If you are alone on this journey—no spouse or family—it will be more difficult but still doable. Keeping well and healthy is a good starting point.

The loss of a child is such a personal experience; your ability to cope will differ depending on the type of death your child suffered. The next time someone asks you how you’re doing, what’s new, or anything along those lines, don’t lose it; just contain yourself. You can do it. As difficult it is; it isn’t unachievable. Just smile and be polite. Maybe the person has forgotten about or never knew of your loss. Say the minimum or be silent. You’ll get on with life but with sadness.

Ironically, sadness can help you cope. You could try to become aware you need to work on eliminating some of it and make sure it doesn’t become clinical depression. Enjoy some humor at times. Remember that your loss will always be on your mind even when something makes you laugh. That really got me in the beginning. My take on the word cope is that there isn’t a past tense form of it, because coping is lifelong. Your struggles will differ from others’ struggles, and holding onto good things will give you the strength to survive. Try embracing willpower and determination as coping strategies.

Our son, Michael, passed on October 22, 2011, at age twenty-four. That was difficult to write. A different mindset took over me after my loss, but my desire to get on with my life was healthy, as is keeping a positive attitude.

People will not understand your loss unless they have experienced such a loss. People will compare your loss of a son or daughter to their loss of a parent or spouse, but there is no comparison. The wise ones will say they can’t imagine what you’re going through and admit they don’t know what to say. I appreciate that reaction. You may find it difficult to accept other people’s comments; being polite may be your refuge. Wouldn’t it be nice to tell them to hush up? No, don’t go there. The same ignorant individuals would say you’re not handling things well.

If necessary, put them straight—tell them there is no comparison and change the topic. I experience this time and again with the same narrow-minded and insensitive person. I’ve calmed down now and am making only a valid point of awareness.

Grieving parents are not alone as much as they might think they are. Many people lose their children. I call them children because even though they may be adults, they are their parents’ children. Trying to cope may seem unbearable at times, but if parents in this situation are patient, they can learn to cope.

Remember, there isn’t a past tense of cope; it is up to you to cope in an ongoing process. Utilizing your inner self’s qualities, good values, and ethics will assist you in daily healing. Please don’t change and remove any bitterness you may be harboring. It ain’t worth it. If ain’t helps you remember this, then it isn’t bad grammar.

Many think there isn’t a word to describe a parent who has lost a child. Well, there is. Horeh shakul is a Hebrew word for a parent who has lost a child. This may offer you the comfort it offered me knowing it linked me to God’s people.

Shortly after my son passed, my husband, Borge, and I got away for English Good Friday on April 6, 2012. We went to the Hamilton Gun Club, southwest of our home.  It seemed as if no time had passed since the early eighties when Borge, my fiancé then, would shoot while I slept or read. Trapshooting is definitely a participant’s, not a spectator’s, sport. Borge hoped to rekindle his interest in the sport, and we planned to go to Niagara Falls, a place I find calming and mystic. It must be the Pisces in me!

Getting away, escaping for even just a weekend, is a good move. You may want to do it because you feel alienated; I did at times. Realizing you’re alienated from others can hit you hard, but take it in stride. I hope your experience of such neglect is not overpowering.

Perhaps a getaway will help you cope with feelings of alienation; it could offer you some comfort and independence. I benefitted from my getaway; it helped me with my feelings of alienation. I enjoy my getaways; they have become important to me. Being idle is not a coping strategy. You need to keep active and well.

You also don’t want people’s pity. Sometimes, others will pity you, but you don’t realize it until you don’t hear or see them for months and months. We need true, genuine feelings from others, not pity. But again, this is not an ideal world, and doing our best is the key. People in general are good, but the problem arises that some people don’t know what to say and feel awkward around grieving people. How sad that humanity fails in our crisis.