The death of one of my children was something I never thought I’d experience in my lifetime. I don’t think any parent does. 

In the aftermath of my daughter’s death, I was overwhelmed with constantly changing emotions and a landslide of unnerving thoughts. But one of the hardest things I experienced was my extreme sense of isolation. 

Losing a child is different than any other type of loss. I had no point of reference for what to expect. After all, the death of a child is seldom talked about. It is too painful for most people to even imagine. 

So, it felt as if I was left to experience all these horrible emotions and thoughts on my own. And many times, I didn’t know how to handle it. 

Being bombarded with all of these unfamiliar thoughts and emotions, it often felt as if I was going crazy from grief.

Without knowing if other people had gone through the same intensely painful experiences and irrational thoughts, early grief made me feel like I was losing my sense of reality. I often couldn’t understand what was happening or why I felt and thought the way I did. I’ve come to understand that many bereaved parents feel this way. 

It’s only when we hear from other people who’ve had similar experiences that we find a sense of hope that it won’t always feel this way. And then we can slowly learn to adapt to a new, different state of “normal”. 

But sharing our grief experiences is not so easy. 

In the United States (and other countries), our society is uncomfortable with grief caused by death. Most condolences try to alleviate our pain. They assure us that our loved one is in a better place, which implies we should feel happy for them. Extended, outward displays of sadness are often frowned upon due to the discomfort it causes those around us.

Soon after the funeral is over, we are expected to get back on track with our lives as if nothing major has changed. For example, many employers offer 2-5 bereavement days for the death of an immediate family member. Often, they “pay” for these days by taking them out of our sick or vacation days. After that, it’s back to business as usual. 

But after suffering a profound loss there is no such thing as “business as usual”. 

Because outward grief is unwelcome, it often becomes a very isolating experience — which only compounds the distress we feel. Yet, with billions of people on this planet, the chance of someone else experiencing the same or similar emotions and thoughts caused by grief are very high. 

Why are shared grief experiences important?

They’re not necessarily important to every grieving person. But for many, when we’re able to hear from people who’ve experienced a similar loss, we can start acknowledging and understanding our grief. Our sense of isolation begins to wane.

After all, grief is our innate healing process when we are faced with loss. So it would be expected that people’s built-in healing process would operate in similar ways.

Yet, since death and the resulting grief is a somewhat taboo topic, most of us have never been taught what those common reactions are. 

There is the exception of the widely known 5 Stages of Grief, but that was originally intended to describe the common reactions of a terminally ill person when faced with their own impending death. As such, the “stages” often don’t match what we feel after the loss of a loved one — particularly a child. 

Shared grief experiences help us know that the unfamiliar things we are thinking and feeling aren’t “crazy”.

Do you know the feeling that your child will walk through the door any moment or be on the other end of the phone when you answer it? That’s a normal grief reaction. Even months after their death.

What about being angry at God because you can’t understand how there could be any reason to take a child’s life? That’s normal too. 

Does the sound of laughter make you nauseous and feel like screaming at everyone to shut up because the idea of being happy now feels like a betrayal of your child’s memory? Again, completely normal. 

After you’ve been crying for what feels like days, do you ever suddenly switch to feeling apathetic and numb? Or abruptly rage out of control for no apparent reason? Normal. 

The list of normal grief reactions that otherwise seem completely out of control and irrational is extremely long. 

Too long to list here, anyway. But all of them have been felt by many people across cultures and around the world. 

Over the years, I’ve written a lot about my experience with grief after the death of my daughter. One of the most common responses I receive is that by having someone else validate those feelings, it helps make them feel like they’re not crazy after all. 

So the next time grief is making you feel “crazy”, just remember that countless other people have experienced the same thing. You can usually find them in support groups, whether online or in person. And chances are, they can and will help you through your grief if you just reach out to them for support. 

Humans seem to love groups. There must be something primal about wanting to find similarities we share with others. Is it because we want to feel like we belong somewhere? Maybe it makes us feel safe?

Whatever the reason, it creates a sense of “us vs. them.”

Having an “us vs. them” mentality can be both good and bad. Good when it creates a bonding experience and develops closer, stronger relationships for those within the group. Bad when it promotes discrimination or exclusionary practices. Some of the time, we have the opportunity to choose what groups to associate with. We can also usually decide to leave those groups when they no longer fit us.

Sometimes though, belonging to a group that separates “us vs. them” is not chosen, but forced upon us due to circumstance.
And there are some circumstances that simply cannot be undone. In those cases, we are subjected to an “us vs. them” reality that we cannot escape from.

In my case, and for many others, the death of my child was the circumstance that forever trapped me in an “us vs. them” world I wish I wasn’t a part of.

For the majority of my life, I was in the “them” world. Blissfully ignorant of the depths of pain the death of a child brings. Not to say my life was always easy and problem free – far from it. But the balance of nature was still intact. I was happily raising four children, and motherhood was the greatest source of joy in my life.

When my 4-year-old daughter died in 2009, I was suddenly thrown out of the world I once knew. My husband and I were now trapped in a group of two: the parents of our dead daughter, Margareta.

Now, I’ve heard many people hear of my circumstance and tell me, “I can imagine how horrible losing a child must be.” And they’re right…they can imagine.

But imagination is very different from experience. Imagination is safe. It has limits. You can leave it whenever you want.

Actual experience is not so fleeting or forgiving. Once you have experienced a horror so deep and so primal, there is no escaping it. Ever. You may be able to lessen the pain, but you can never make it fully go away. It becomes your constant companion.

Let’s look at another example. We hear stories of soldiers wounded, maimed, and killed on a regular basis. So regular, unfortunately, we’ve become numb to the horror of it. I can imagine what it must be like. I have a huge source of movies, documentaries, and news stories that depict these horrors in great detail.

But until I am actually in the position of fighting for my life, looking down the barrel of a rifle, making the decision to kill or be killed, riding in a vehicle with the unimaginable fear of whether it will run over an IED and be blown up, or seeing my friends and fellow soldiers die next to me…I will never really know what it is like to be in their situation. The same can be said for losing a child.

Once you find yourself in this “us vs. them” world, many are compelled to seek out others in the “us” category.

We want to know others who have actually lived to survive this unbearable pain. We want to be able to share our fears and feelings with someone who has had the same experiences as us. It doesn’t necessarily matter that their child died at a different age or in a different circumstance. It makes us feel less alone; less alienated from a world we once lived in but no longer belong to.

I’ve seen many of “us” knowingly push ourselves further away from “them” because of the hurt, frustration and anger “they” can unknowingly cause us. Having only imagination as their resource, “they” can say things they think are helpful and supportive. But are received by “us” as hurtful and insensitive. “They” often want to see us integrated back into the world we once knew. To get back to being the person we once were. But we see this as further proof that they simply cannot understand what it is like to be “us”. It makes us feel further isolated and alone.

While it might be tempting to stay completely isolated and alone and have no further contact with “them”, it is completely unrealistic and unhealthy. So where can we once again find common ground between “us vs. them”?

First, we can practice patience and compassion. I know this is easier said than done when you feel you are being crushed by the overwhelming weight of grief. But you need to remember that we were once “them”.

Once upon a time, we didn’t know the right words to say and probably said many insensitive things unintentionally. We didn’t always know how to act around someone whose overwhelming pain made us nervous and uncomfortable. Our actions probably made them think we were indifferent to their pain, despite our best efforts.

Once you’ve remembered that we were once “them” and how it felt, you can educate those around you on ways they can better support you.

If they don’t know what to say or how to act, then teach them. Let them know when their words hurt (and why) and what you’d rather hear instead. Tell them what they can do for you to help lighten your load. For their sake, be as specific as you can. Remember that many of these people love and care for you, and are likely to appreciate the opportunity to better support you and be open to taking direction from you.

If, for some reason, some of them are not receptive to feedback and remain unhelpful and hurtful, then you have the right to distance yourself from them. Remember that you are in survival mode, and it likely takes every ounce of your energy just to make it through each day in one piece. Your focus – whether they like it or not – will likely need to be on you, your health and well-being for now. Further down the road, and once you are better able to handle your new reality, you can revisit your relationship with them. It’s never too late to try to heal broken relationships.

Ultimately, life will always be some level of “us vs. them”. The best we can do is look for ways to balance the need to find others like “us” while finding compassion and common ground with “them”.

The more love and support we can welcome into our lives – whether it comes from us or them – the further down the path of healing we will travel.