By slowing the process down after Ben’s diagnosis, I was able to plan the birth and funeral that I wanted to have for my child. I was able to begin the grieving process and even start healing. I was able to validate this unique life that entered into our family as a precious gift. Ben was just as special and irreplaceable as my living children, and it helped my heart heal to know that I honored my baby and respected the course of his life.
When your child is an adult and dies in a matter that is a suicide, overdose or killed, in any tragic way that might infer a scandal, my advice does not do as I did.
I about lost my mind. My anger was all I could feel. I didn’t take much time to be gentle with myself or the people around me. I have gotten to a place I don’t care anymore. I have to find a way to accept no matter how many people I prove wrong; he’s not coming back.
I have to accept this horrible reality of my son dying at home under my watch.
Just like that, she was dead.
Kids do die that easily.
Unnoticed in the moment of their death.
So I said grief is the one thing – fear is the other.
I know how to deal with my grief by now. I face it, I avoid it and sometimes I run from it. But I know it.
She reached out to scratch his head, letting the tears come easily. There was no heavy sobbing in this round of crying, just the slow drain of the exhausted mourner who has no more energy but more grief then they know what to do with.
We are works in progress with a long way to go but the joy and the hopeful assurance we experience is not man-made. Our faith is being made whole; not in spite of Dylan, but because of her.
God has a sovereign purpose for her precious life and loss. It’s a bittersweet reality – one we probably will never understand on this side of Heaven.