Life Journal: An Echoes Of Pain

After my son's death, my life became bleak and blue and I keep on weeping every day. My boss suggested that I keep a journal to spill out my emotions. My journal became an oasis of peace where I could pen all of my myriad feelings and weep on words. And I could allow my thoughts some time to breathe for quite a while.

Phrases dragged and squeezed me. As weeks and months passed, I went back through the journal pages. I started to take note of something striking... I conquered each day, week, and month, and I was becoming stronger. I'd see phrases of positivity shedding light on my path.

Have you ever felt such a strong emotion after losing a child? All parents dread it, and the loss is incomprehensible. Unthinkable unless it happens to you. It really does feel like "the worst that can happen," as several parents have expressed.

One of the most devastating events in my life is the death of my son. It is natural to encounter difficulties in finding purpose following the loss of a loved one.

While grieving for my loss is tough, losing my child can be the most traumatic. It's commonly stated that losing a child is the worst scenario a parent can experience. Grieving for any loss is challenging, but losing my child is the most difficult loss to deal with.

The journal doesn't contain any magical secrets. Simply, I take up a pen and scribble a word or a sentence to start. I continue writing. Healing has no set schedule. Time really can't make up for this kind of loss. Actively pursuing life once more leads to healing. I eventually look back on my remarks and find that the person I once was is no longer there and I witness my true strength.

In our minds, parents should pass away before their offspring. It is possible to experience a profound sense that the world has flipped upside down, even if death was anticipated. Many times, people describe feeling as though something has been taken out from underneath them.

Seeing and thinking back to the day my son passed away while holding my head to make the memory go away, according to elders is normal. The radio is usually on as soon as I enter the house to provide a bit of activity because silence is unbearable. I felt a twinge inside of me that I could not explain.

Telling the story of your child's death as though it were a routine, everyday occurrence and then witnessing the anguish in someone's eyes at how horrible it sounds is natural.

The toughest challenge of figuring out how to remember my son during important events in the family like Christmas, and New Year, Valentine's Day because I always tell him that he is my one and only Sweetheart who made him smile, and celebrate the day he was born. Getting through these difficult times arose all of a sudden.

When your child is no longer present in all essential events of every aspect of your life, it is typical for tears to well up behind every laugh. It's common to feel as if you can't stand still for a minute and have to quit weeping because you can't bear to pose through anything else. Sleeping problems are common since you are constantly thinking about a thousand what-ifs and why didn't I?

Immense shock, astonishment, confusion, and refusal, even if my child's death was expected. Significantly miserable and despairing, to the point where it is impossible to get out of bed or deal with daily tasks. The emotional side of it is horrendous because it breaks me. Weeks and months after the initial shock, the grieving worsens, not improves. In fact, it intensifies. It is assumed that people will not relate anything in their lives to my loss unless they have also lost a child. There is nothing comparable. I have to admit I cry every day. I am impatient with everything and everyone except for those who are grieving the loss of my child.

When you see something that your child enjoys, it gives you a sense of comfort and sadness. It is natural for some people to be hesitant to mention your child's name. It is common practice to ensure that others remember your child. It's fine for everyone else to be going on with their lives.

Sitting in front of the supporting group, crying, and expressing your emotions with other bereaved parents. You're too exhausted to worry about eating on time, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, or whether there's food in the refrigerator. Ask God why He took your child's life rather than yours, even though you were expecting this to happen due to his illness.

It becomes second nature to you to pretend to be alright to everyone you encounter. You tell falsehoods because crying disturbs other people. You know that telling them the truth—that you still feel lost and empty—is more difficult than telling them lies. Hiding everything that has started to feel "normal" for you to make everyone else think you're "alright." Such tragedies might serve as the catalyst for giving them meaning and purpose.

Your sorrow will change the instant you realize this. I used to write out the exact question, "What would it be like to feel peace around CJ's death?" to imagine and envisage my life without suffering. I would see myself without the disguise of sadness, letting the consolation of joy wash over me. And I could sense it for a split second. With time, I was able to achieve that tranquil condition more frequently. I could separate my grief within the pages of my journal.

You'll find it easy to access if you understand how it feels. Even after my precious boy died months ago, I still find myself crying unexpectedly. However, when my heart willingly joins with the magnificent rhythm of his sweet remembrance, the healing process has offered me an engulfing hug of transformation as well as the solace of prayer.

His death marked the beginning of my fresh start. Recognizing my individuality and discovering how to cope with his death. The concept of resilience was the road I chose, and maintaining a journal helped me overcome difficulties. The death of my child inspired me to value each day and treasure it more. It taught me to develop empathy. I've realized that the affection of a mother never ceases; in fact, my love for my son has grown stronger—just as it would if he were still alive.

Every child is a priceless gift that is both mine and yours. We express our gratitude to our Creator by loving them with all of our strength.

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Thank you for fetching around my blog and checking out the post. Catch you on my next blog.

Namaste,
@diosarich💞🌷

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About The Author

_{A feisty artist and writer who balances her time penning poetry, soul-stirring content, and flash fiction, sketching, and designing by using fresh blossoms, needlework, gardening, baking, and caring for her partially impaired vision Mom after her intellectually and physically challenged son passed away. She explores unexpected views that ignite her zest for life.}

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