Author of Crossing the Horizon
Today’s Christmas, again. It’s been 6 years since that hateful, fateful fire took Solon and Liam away. What do we do with this family holiday – also our children’s death day?
“Motion is lotion,” is my friend’s strategy for avoiding knee pain. I can’t argue with motion, but I’d also add, “nature is nurture” and at least for us, “motion in nature” tops it all.
When Solon and Liam died, all boy noise ceased. Silence replaced lively conversations, music, movements — Fat, ugly, disturbing silence. What does a grieving parent do with the sudden silence? You have to find a way around it.
Just as an amputee continues to feel the presence of a severed limb, after the fire Chris and I awoke expecting to hear the joyful noise of our sons. Silence screamed the reality of their departure until slowly, sadly, we could wrap our minds around their absence. It took years.
How do you to it? How do you keep it together after both of your children die traumatically? The truth is, you can’t at first. Don’t expect that you will. Allow yourself to fall apart. Let friends and family be with you to listen without judgment as all of your emotions surface. Let out all that craziness you feel. Cry, scream, hug, talk (if you can). There will be time later to knit yourself together again. No one can say how you’ll manage it. Your solutions will be unique to you.