Now, let me begin by saying I am not – by any means – “healed” of my grief from the death of my 4-year-old daughter in 2009.
I’ll probably never be. The day she died, a part of me died too. That loss left a gaping, tormenting hole in my heart and soul. A hole that has mostly stopped bleeding and shrunk a bit over the years, but will remain with me until the day I die.
And yet, in the years since her death, I have managed to learn how to live in the shadow of grief. I’ve even learned to allow joy and happiness back into my life. In fact, I would argue that I have learned how to harness the pain and devastation into fundamentally improving myself.
Over the years, I have started the process of transforming from someone who used to just “survive” life without truly enjoying it. I’m now someone who is learning to thrive in most aspects of living. I am not referring to thriving in a monetary or materialistic way, but in how I open myself up to, interact with, and relate to the world around me.
So what is the secret to healing from grief?
Over the years, I have tried to write about it. I have bared my soul and deepest, darkest feelings and fears. By trying to capture “it,” I hope to let others use it in their own journeys of healing. And yet I’ve never been able to capture its essence in one succinct idea.
That is, until now. I cannot take credit for it. It was during some rare alone time (I am married with four kids). I looked for a show to watch on TV and decided to indulge myself by watching an episode of The Long Island Medium.
I like watching the show because it usually provides me with an opportunity to cry and release the built-up pressure of sadness over my daughter’s death. Feelings that I usually hold at bay during everyday activities.
During the episode, Theresa Caputo surprises a woman in New Orleans with a private reading. The woman had lost her 15-year-old only child, Kamen, in a car accident some years before. Her sister described her as a “shell of her former self”.
In the reading, Theresa is communicating what Kamen wants to convey to his mother. He describes her as constantly going back to the day he died, and – in fact – living her life trapped in that horrible moment of time. She is stuck in the worry and guilt that many bereaved parents face. The idea that their child suffered alone, in devastating pain, and scared in their last moments. It torments us.
Then Theresa – using Kamen’s words – offers the secret to healing our grief in a simple, profound way. Theresa says:
“He said, ‘The way you loved me is the way that you can heal.; All the love, encouragement, and everything you gave your son; if you gave that to yourself, you would be healed.”
And there it is. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Everything I have tried to convey in the past few years encapsulated in one succinct statement.
I have begun to heal, and even thrive. Because for the first time in my life, I am slowly learning to treat myself the way I treat my kids. I am learning how to unconditionally love myself. How to look inward for support and encouragement during even the most difficult days and moments. And I am learning how to transform the darkness of grief into the light of love by looking for the lesson hidden deep within the pain.
I would be lying if I told you that embodying self love and self care is easy. In my experience, it is not.
But I am convinced it is the basic understanding we need to begin to heal our grief. And with knowledge, comes power. The power to choose whether we are at the mercy of our grief, or whether we teach ourselves to not only live with the pain, but use it to reach a deeper, more fulfilling understanding of life itself.
I wish you peace and comfort on your journey.
Thank you, Maria, for this beautiful post, and for sharing your hard-won wisdom with all of us. You are an inspiration ♥
Thank you Marty for your kind words. Coming from you, I am deeply honored. Maria
Thank you Maria. I am currently at the beginning of my journey. One year in a month. I feel very identified with you. Thank you for helping me with your posts.
I’m glad I can be of help to you Joel; although I’m very sorry for you loss. Take care, Maria
Thank you for sharing this Maria. It’s good to know someone is beginning to see light shining through the darkness. I hope it helps other people on their journey too.
Hello Maria, I have read some of your posts as I struggle through this holiday season and am moved by your ability to describe some of the horrible realities that are grief. I lost my 27 year old Son Dan in 2011 in an accident and have experienced the fires and torments of grief in similar ways from guilt to trauma , isolation and reliving what it might have been like for him in those last moments..if I could have said or done something different. I have had periods of peace and progress over these three years but I am astounded how powerfully it all comes back like an entity with a life of it’s own. I miss him terribly every day but some days I accept what has happened and other times I simply can not and it is just pain , both physically and mentally, and suffering. I also know for some unexplained reason it can change overnight and I am hopeful and actually happy for a while but always come back to despair and see most people and their problems as minor and insignificant. I also attended grief groups and counseling and have felt the shared stories and grief comforting but still it is a lonely path , deeply personal and unique it feels to me losing my only son ( i have a 40yr old daughter across country ) I have also started a website http://www.loveafterloss.org and when I feel up to it am going to promote it as I agree that it helps to connect with people who understand and I think my only option and desire is to help others if I can. Thank you for your posts I am so sorry for your loss. I will keep reading. Robert
Thank you Robert. I’m sorry for the loss of your son Dan. I hope the despair continues to slowly ease with time and distance – though I know it will never fully go away. I think your efforts to help others through their grief will help you on your journey. Wishing you peace, Maria
Maria, thank you for helping to make sense of the feelings of grief and pain that have been my constant companions since my son, my firstborn, took his own life five months ago at the age of 31.The feelings are so hard to understand and communication about them is difficult with others who have not experienced this. So thank you, Steve
Steve, I’m so sorry you are suffering the loss of your firstborn son. If my words bring you any comfort in this horrible situation, I’m grateful for that. I’m wishing you peace on your journey, Maria