Children come into this world a blank slate. When they get here, they are innocent and carefree. But, what happens when they experience their first loss of a family member?
I was 8 years old when I experienced the first death in my family. My papa passed away, and I remember it like it was yesterday. It was only a couple of days away from Christmas, everyone had been preparing for family get togethers and getting ready for Santa Claus…. My grandfather walked in the door of his home and fell in the floor. He had a heart attack. My father attempted to resuscitate him with no luck. By the time the ambulance arrived he was gone. I was crushed. On Christmas Eve, my granny gave me the gift my papa had gotten me. It was a Scottish doll in a plaid skirt, white button up shirt and a plaid hat. She had pigtails and she was beautiful. I held her and cried. My parents saw how hard this had hit me, so on Christmas morning I woke up to a brand new bike from Santa under the tree. On the handle of the bike, there was a note. I opened the note and read it. Through tear filled eyes, I read, “I know that you lost your papa and it hurt. He came to me and told me that you would love this bike, so I put it under the tree just for you, from him. Love, Santa.” It was amazing of my parents to help me through this and still find a way to include him Christmas morning. At his funeral, during the viewing, I could have sworn I saw him breathing. Unfortunately, my parents had to explain that it was just wishful thinking. It was hard, but of course I got through it as we all do when we lose a loved one.
Not long ago, my kids experienced their first family death, and the first time seeing mom cry. I lost my little brother, their uncle. He was only 25 years old and still full of so much life. It was completely unexpected and it hit me extremely hard. At first my youngest daughter didn’t cry, I assumed she just didn’t quite understand and was processing. My son cried as soon as he heard the news. My oldest was just super quiet through the whole ordeal. Because he was so young and an organ donor, it took a little while to get his body back from the medical examiners office to lay him to rest. I cried, a lot. The day of his funeral, at the viewing, everyone mourned and shed some tears of course. My youngest daughter, 7 at the time, was still quiet. Midway through the viewing, I look up and she is standing at my brothers coffin. Staring at him. I approach her, and as soon as I am able to see her face I realize she is silent crying. To me that is the worst. To look in your child’s face and see them silently crying and hurting. I took her to the family room of the funeral home and I held her. When she was ready, we talked. I told her that she could always come to me whenever she is sad and its okay to let it out. Her response was, “Mommy, I was trying not to cry because you’ve been crying a lot and I didn’t want to make you cry more.” I explained to her that crying is a natural response to such a loss. And that me and her could cry together and it would be fine. Later that night, at home, she broke down again and cried her little heart out while I held her. I have to say, I was relieved to see her finally let loose because I was around her age during my first loss so I completely understood needing to get all of those feelings out.
We all handle grief differently, just like we all handle life differently. As long as we accept that everyone is different and handles different situations differently… we will get through the tough stuff together. Remember the positive things about the ones you’ve lost. Smile when you hear their name, and cry when you think of them and wish they were here. Allow yourself to feel. With each passing day, it gets a little easier. It just never ever fully goes away. We keep them alive through our memories.
This blog is dedicated to my little brother, my granny and papa, and my aunt. You are all loved and missed dearly!! Happy Heavenly Easter! 🐣 Until we meet again! ❤️ 👼 👼 👼 👼
Anonymommy 