Anger, shock, denial and guilt, and even misery, are some of the words that frequently dominated conversations at a recently held retreat for bereaved parents.
These are the emotions one goes through after a life-altering loss like that of a child; an experience best described as isolating even for those with spouses or other children.
Hence over 60 parents, mostly mothers, turned up for the all-expenses-paid retreat for bereaved parents at the Ave Maria Pastoral Centre two weekends ago, thanks to the benevolence of American non-denominational faith-based organisation, ‘While We’re Waiting’.
The inaugural retreat was held in Botswana in honour of Sarah Harmening, who died in a bus accident in 2017 while en-route to a mission in Botswana.
Her parents, Karen and Scott Harmening, facilitated the event with the help of compatriots: Lisa Armstrong, whose son Jacob died by suicide in 2018; Larry and Janice Brown, whose son Adam was killed in Afghanistan in 2010; as well as Jill and Brad Sullivan, whose daughter, Hannah lost her battle with brain cancer in 2009.
Designed to provide hope, support, encouragement, and friendship for parents who have experienced the loss of a child, the 3-day event was perhaps the genesis of a crucial conversation about grief.
Indeed our altruistic hosts led the conversations, sharing their stories at intervals between sessions.
In groups of 10 to 20, parents, one after the other also shared about their losses and the impact of their children’s absence on them, ending each talk with a prayer for each one.
Going into the retreat, I hadn’t the faintest idea what to expect.
But soon after we were divided into groups, I realized that although my loss was yet fresh and intense, there are people out there going through the most harrowing of pains.
For instance, two middle-aged women in my group lost their children exactly 2 years back, at the height of the pandemic.
They spoke of how crippling those experiences were.
For one mother, her daughter left behind a child– a source of both consolation and anguish; she lives in fear of her own demise and asked the question, “What will happen to this child when I’m gone?” Meanwhile, a flood of tears interrupted the other mother, struggling to compose herself recounting how she could only communicate with her South African-based son in his final days via video call; how she would go on to lose four more members of her family, including her own mother.
It was the sort of story that left mouths agape in utter shock.
After what seemed like an eternity, the youngest members of my group, in their mid twenties, finally mustered the strength to speak.
It would seem unfair that any young person should experience loss so early in life; the first one gave birth to a stillborn, another a 6-month-old infant and the last had not yet held her baby in her arms when the sad news were broken to her.
In my many interactions with fellow bereaved parents, I concluded that, generally, grief is misunderstood and societal expectations to accept and move on are simply intolerable; people often miss the mark in the way they console us.
I was recently reminded of that by a friend who suggested I stop sharing my daughter’s pictures on social media because they will resurface as ‘Facebook memories’ a year on, as if her memory must be packed away.
Though I believe she assumed I might rue my actions, what she doesn’t realise is that there’ll be no new memories to create and that’s how I choose to grieve.
This misunderstanding is not found only in our broader relationships.
Even couples do not grieve in the same manner: a mum felt her husband pushed her to heal quickly; evidence that grief is indeed an individual experience, a lonely journey.
I also observed during the larger group session spouses placing the blame on each other as though the other parent had a role in the death of the child.
Three mothers shared another worrying experience.
For instance, one mum whose child had cerebral palsy lamented the oft-recurring and unwelcome remark, “At least you can now rest,” how insensitive! As it is, grief can be emotionally and mentally exhausting, and the last thing the grieving want is to be weighed down with such comments.
Our culture can be stifling and opening up, building relationships and establishing a support network is the first step in the journey to healing while we’re waiting to be reunited with our children.
Ultimately, what the Americans did for Botswana was truly upholding the greatest and inseparable commandments of loving God and one’s neighbour.
*An interim committee is working on the While We’re Waiting – Botswana Chapter.
