Recently I stumbled upon a quote that burrowed into my heart the moment I laid eyes upon it.
Unexpectedly it greeted me on my computer screen as if it were my description of how child loss affected my family.
“It is as if each family were a huge ball of yarn; each member a different colored strand woven and wound together. When one member dies, the entire ball must be unwound, the strand removed, and the ball then needs to be put back together and rewound. However, the ball can never be recreated as it was before.”
Jean Galica, Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist, is the brilliant author of the quote.
This analogy is so beautiful. It immediately conjures up visions of how my boys enjoy playing with yarn.
It usually involves one of them holding a ball of yarn as he frantically runs and jumps around the room, unraveling the yarn ball, causing chaos and mess. Then the other child takes a different color and repeats.
At the end we are left with crisscrossed colors of yarn, spread across a large space, some of it tangled and knotted. To make use of the yarn, we must untangle and roll as much as we can back into a ball.
More often than not, some pieces need to be cut out because they are so badly knotted.
As the shock of child loss sets in and family members enter into survival mode, they often spread apart.
Although they are still connected, and their lives are tangled together, each person needs to process loss on his or her own.
Even as a mother of two living children, after losing Christian, there was some distance between myself and my living children.
The tightly interwoven nature of our past relationship had slackened. I was no longer able to love them without the imminent fear of losing them looming over me.
My husband also suffered from the anxiety and fear of losing them. He and I dealt with it very differently.
While I found comfort in talking openly about every aspect of child loss, he had a much different experience. We remained connected and leaned on one other as we were both attempted to process our grief.
The individual balls of yarn that made up our lives were completely unraveled, tangled, knotted, and lacking color.
It wasn’t just our immediate family that was deeply affected. Our family unit is tight-knit, and my children are blessed to have close relationships with their grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins.
In those early days, a few conflicts arose from the tensions of knots.
Everyone was sleep deprived, saddened, confused, angry, and mainly using all their energy to process the tragedy that struck our lives.
Over time as each person began to process in their way, the yarn smoothed out. We were able to work through the knots.
Slowly each color of yarn became more vibrant again. Each strand became straighter.
The connection was never lost. It was just a mystery for some time as to how we would be wound together again in our ball of love.
Slowly, slowly as time went on, we wound around the children. They brought vibrancy and joy back to our lives.
Our extended family ball of yarn is interwoven differently but still as tight as ever.
Today the ball of yarn that is my immediate family is so very different than the one that started as the five of us.
The ball that contained five individual colors wound together was only in existence for less than two years.
Nothing will ever heal that part of my wound.
Less than two years to have your family together on Earth is devastating.
The devastation we have experienced plays a large part in how our ball was rewound. Galica says a strand of yarn is removed after you lose a child. This is true.
It does not disappear; however, the fibers of that one strand are merely divided to become part of all of the other strands. No longer an individual but an energy, a spirit, an Angel.
Our familial ball of yarn, immediate and extended, will never be put together again in the same way.
The beauty lies in all we have learned from the tragedy, adding dimension to every single strand of color.
Christian will forever be a part of each of us in ways he could never be before.
Love to heaven…