Grief isn’t a topic that should be sugar-coated with a cutesy title so I didn’t think up one. Nor is it a topic that’s easy to write about. However, it’s one to which I’m no stranger.
There was “an event” that occurred many years ago that I’ve not yet fully shared in a blog post. I may have mentioned it in passing once or twice but I don’t really recall. Considering the impact that this “event” had and still has on myself and my family, I often wonder if I should be sharing about it more. There is so much to say about it, more than I could cover in one blog post so this one may just serve as an introduction.
We all know that death is inevitable in life but the grief associated with it hits harder when a passing seems to come too soon. And while any death will nearly always be viewed as “too soon”, there is no less grief whether it’s anticipated or not. Reasonably, we expect to outlive our parents and will therefore be faced at some point in our lives with the mourning of their deaths. More often than not, pet owners will outlive their furbabies. Even when a contemporary is diagnosed with a terminal illness, no amount of advanced warning eases the pain felt upon their death.
The grief that I chose to share in this post is that of a parent who has lost a child. The “event” that occurred so many years in the past happened exactly 28 years ago today. It was even a Thursday. That was the day our first child, a beautiful baby girl, passed away at the age of 6 months and 22 days. Samantha had been the first grandchild for my in-laws and the second one for my parents. She had been named after one of The Husband’s grandfathers. Needless to say, the entire family was devastated.
One never expects to outlive their child. You envision them growing and learning and maturing and living long after your time on earth has ended. They are your legacy, a piece of you that will continue to live. The loss of a child, no matter if and how their death may have been foreshadowed, is abrupt. The time after is never the same as the time before.
Samantha’s passing wasn’t expected; however, she did have a health issue that we had expected she would eventually outgrow. Under the umbrella term of “failure to thrive”, she wouldn’t/couldn’t gain weight despite the best efforts of medical professionals as well as ourselves. There’s a lot to that story that I’m not going to go into now but her low weight likely made Samantha much more susceptible to the lethal effects of the septic infection that ultimately caused her death.
Besides that today is the anniversary of Samantha’s death, it was another unexpected and recent passing that motivated me to write about grief. Sometimes we as parents learn more about ourselves when we are witness to our children going through similar experiences and share in their joys or sorrows. Such has been the case with my daughter and her boyfriend and their dog, Earl. You might recall that I listed Earl’s dying this past December as one of the 21 The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly of 2021. Some will argue that the loss of a child and the loss of a pet hardly equate. I fully understand that sentiment but I also see parallels as both are beings that depend on you to meet their needs. A great responsibility.
One of my first instincts, after she called and shared the sad news, was to go to her. There is only so much condolence that one can offer in a phone call. With her agreement, The Husband and I drove later that day to where she and her boyfriend were staying and the four of us went to get ice cream on a cold and drizzly night. It was comforting to see the two of them supporting each other at this time of need and that both had accepted the reality of the situation.
Along with my own sadness at the death of that beautiful creature, my heart ached for the profound loss that my daughter and her boyfriend must be feeling. Reflection on this had me thinking about the similar heartache my own parents and my in-laws must have felt when Samantha died. At the time, I could see the pain they felt at the loss of their granddaughter but I couldn’t fathom that they also ached because of the pain their own children felt.
A week or so ago, I asked my daughter how she and her boyfriend were doing with their grief. She said for her that there’s still a lot of sadness but thoughts of him no longer brought on a waterfall of tears. Because the two of them had been in the area visiting since late November, they hadn’t yet experienced their normal “at home” routine without Earl so that was weighing on their minds but they were ready to deal with it. They had also started talking about getting another dog. All good signs of them processing their grief in a healthy way. Once again, I was reminded of what a remarkable and capable young woman she is.
Is that what my parents thought about me? They never said, not that I recall. Nor was there ever much acknowledgment of Samantha afterward. Especially after my other children came along. It wasn’t a taboo subject but I’d be hurt when there was never any reach out on what would have been Samantha’s birthday. “You don’t celebrate birthdays of the dead”, I was told. You remember them on the anniversary of their death. I hardly wanted to celebrate, I just wanted recognition of the celebration that wasn’t.
And yet, I remember her always.
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Photos: MMPerez
27 Comments
What a beautiful story. Also sad of course but you wrote it so beautifully. I don’t know what to say, I have no children, can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a child. I think it feels like your amputated. Thanks for sharing.
Nancy, thank you for reading and your compassion.
So sad Rena. I can’t imagine the pain of loosing a child. xx
Laurie, it’s a heartache that a parent should never need experience but too many often do.
My son died in an accident when he was sixteen. That was 32 years ago. The pain is always there. Just under the surface,
Ah Rena I am so sorry for your loss. And what a beautiful baby Samantha was. It is the fear of every every parent. And I guess you had to cope with no grief counselling or support of any kind. Hugs xx
Nancy, I’m sorry to hear of your loss. And your so right about the pain still remaining but under the surface.
Dear Rena, How sadly I remember that day! I always admired your and Mark’s resilence to carry on your life. I remember the picture of Samantha on the mantle. Sending you a hug! Bonnie
Thank you, Bonnie. You and Rabbi have always been so supportive which means so much to us.
May her memory be for a blessing. I did not have a child pass before me, but I did miscarry in 1978. Once I was home from the hospital, it was never spoken of except for an awful comment from my father-in-law. Grief is one of those things you carry with you, sometimes it’s shouting; sometimes it’s whispering. And, our fur families are as important as our not-fur families. We will be mixed in with the ashes of our dogs. Hugs to you on this day and all those after.
https://marshainthemiddle.com
Marsha, thank you for the hugs. Your loss is just as painful as mine even more so that miscarriages are rarely recognized as such.
Sending love. Eli always said Samantha was the most beautiful baby he’d ever seen. ❤️
Miri, feeling the love. Thank you.
thank you for sharing this story even it is difficult. I am sending you much love and light
Thank you
How brave of you to share this with us today Rena. I can’t imagine the pain then or now but I would like to wrap my arms around you.
Pamela, thank you for your compassion.
Oh my gosh, Rena, although I have had heard this story from you in person, reading it in your own beautifully written words has me a puddle of tears right now. I imagine your parents were profoundly moved by your strength in that grief, probably to the extent that it is nearly impossible to find words to express it. Thank you for sharing these wonderful photos of Samantha with us. Sending lots of healing energy to your daughter and her boyfriend as they transition through their grief as well.
Shelbee
Thank you, Shelbee. Time and distance is helpful.
I am so sorry for your loss. I know that others who are grieving similarly will feel less alone because you shared.
Lauren, I do hope that my story will help others see their way through the grief of loosing a child.
A beautiful piece Rena. Our parents were/are from a generation that kept their feelings under lock and key. I’m sure they were very proud of how you dealt with such a devastating tragedy. A lovely memorial to Samantha.
Thank you, Gail. I appreciate your support and kindness.
I can’t imagine losing a child, especially one so young. But I do know loss and how that loss can be brought close by other events, in your case, Earl’s death recently preceding this devastating anniversary date. I am so sorry for your loss.
Michelle
bijoubeadboutique@gmail.com
Michelle, thank you for your sympathy. The timing of Earl’s death was unfortunate in light of the upcoming anniversary.
I’m very sorry for your loss Rena. Thank you for sharing your story and the beautiful photos of Samantha.
Emma xxx
http://www.style-splash.com
I appreciate your sympathy, Emma.