The Importance of a Grief Guide
After Haley died, I searched for a path – some kind of guide to help me navigate this journey of grief that I was on against my will and which was completely foreign to me. I wanted a well-worn, tried and true path, not wanting to blaze my own trail as my energy had been depleted on all levels. I read so many books on grief and novels that included an element of grief that my family would ask “has someone died yet?” when they saw me reading.
I needed answers, a how-to, a right way to do this. I didn’t find what I was searching for, and it took me a long time to realize that it was because there is no right way to do grief. It is such an individual, unique experience, and depends on so many factors it’s impossible create a formula that says, “here’s what you must do.”
What I didn’t have the insight to seek out but what happened to me by chance was the appearance of many guides on my grief journey. The first were the other parents I had met in Oncology – those who had walked the path with their children and got them to the end of their lives. I had certainly learned about anticipatory grief from them, watching them while we lived together in 4E3, but my family and I were so immersed in our own journey that at that time, I didn’t have the capacity to reach out to them in those early stages of their grief following the death of their children and the eventual death of my child. But so often, more guides appeared, like unexpected glimmers of wisdom, empathy, and understanding of what I was going through. These were the people who I could relate to.
The first to appear was my aunt, Helen. Her eldest son had died many years before Haley was even born, when I was just 13 years old. Like Haley, he too died on a day of celebration – Father’s Day (Haley died on Thanksgiving Day). There were huge differences - his death resulted from a tragic accident, while Haley had been ill for a long time and we knew her death was approaching. My cousin’s funeral was in their town hours from ours, and for some reason that I don’t recall, only my parents went to his funeral. I didn’t get to say goodbye to my cousin, nor see the rest of his family on that horrible day, which ate away at my sensitive soul.
Thirty years later, it was my turn. My family and I arrived early to the church for Haley’s evening funeral ceremony. I had no desire to be there, feeling there was no way I could get through this event – what felt like a very final separation from Haley. I was in awe when I glanced towards the parking lot and saw my aunt walking towards us, her daughter and daughter-in-law walking on either side of her. She gave me a huge hug, and in that moment I knew – she had survived the tragic loss of a child, and somehow, so would I.
Over the years, she would send a card on the anniversary of Haley’s death. She came to one of my boys’ hockey games a few months after Haley died, and as we sat in the stands, she explained how grief would come in waves – totally unpredictable and often overwhelming. She gently guided me along and was always that steadfast reminder – I would survive.
She is now 88 years old. A few weeks ago, I had the great joy of spending time with her as I picked her up at her home 90 minutes from ours to bring her for a visit with her older sister – my mom. She showed me around her home, and I was touched to see a beautiful portrait of Laurie in her bedroom, some 47 years after his death. As I drove and we chatted, Haley and her son, Laurie, were woven seamlessly in and out of our conversation. She said she talks to Laurie all the time, just as I talk to Haley. And we both agreed that we would take the pain of losing them for the joy of the time we had with them.
She is just one of many grief guides who has appeared in my now 15-year grief journey since Haley died. I wish no other parent had to endure the loss of a child, but I am grateful for those who have and understand that pain, and most importantly, have the courage to talk to others about it. What an exquisite gift!
A few weeks ago, I attended a memorial event hosted by the Kids with Cancer Society. So many families had come to honour their children, so many freshly in their grief. I have evolved from being the one needing guidance to the one who can offer that hope – they too will survive, and they will never forget their children. Grief is a journey, not a destination, and although it can feel very lonely, we are not alone.