A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #how

Waiting for the Answer of How

Recently I was honored to have the opportunity to sit and listen to a fellow mom who lost her son earlier this year. When the police came to tell us about Zane, they began by saying, “We are here on behalf of Zane”.  My (new) friend was told, “His death is under investigation”. 

There are many levels of grief. When Zane was killed we were told what happened.  There was no question of how he passed.  The coroner’s report came back relatively fast with what we had been told in black and white. We had those awful answers and knowing the cause of death, our questions became focused on the why and what if.  We had the answer of how.

How is the one first answer you need; the manner to which my child left this earth. When you don’t have an answer, grief is put on a whole other level.  All the other questions arrive and are complicated because you can’t begin to comprehend when you don’t have any idea of what happened. It is sheer madness exaggerated.

As we sat in the sun sharing stories of our children, of how the police came, of how our other children found out…we shared tears and a few giggles, creating a bond that ‘others wouldn’t get’. There is comfort found in shared grief.  We talked about how we honor our child and what we do for ourselves to make it through the days.  Grief is a solitary journey. Yet when we share our journey with those on the same path, we discover similar happenings and we begin to understand we are not totally alone. This awareness brings a silent strength to face our grief better. And she has to confront this grief, while waiting to hear what happened to her child. That takes extra strength.

I admire her beauty. She carries her head high and lives with a trust that the answers will come. And while she waits, she puts one foot in front of the other with her son as her driving force, wanting to honor him and do right by him. She is a noble example of how one can practice good mourning.

The Arrival of How

I gave birth to two children.  I am ‘mama fish’ to many more. Friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, that my own children have brought home and I have adopted like rescue puppies.  Our home was filled with a variety of personalities that sat at our kitchen island. I would feed them, listen to their dreams, their drama, and their hopes.   I keep in touch with them to this day.  They have all grown into beautiful young adults experiencing life in ways unique to them and I relish in their shared stories.

This week, as I was shopping at Safeway, my daughter called me in hysterics. She asked if I was sitting down. No, I was pushing my cart of food, mask on, in a hurry to finish. She blurted out that one of these boys, one she had dated and stayed in touch with as friends, was found dead.

The floor came up to meet me. I gasped. I moved my cart to an aisle where no one was in so I could take off my mask. “What the hell?” I asked…I needed to rehear it.  How does this happen? How can this loving child be gone? How did this happen to someone so young?  How did we not know? How…

I think that how is where grief is born. It is the word that we utter as the pain and confusion of this reality arrives and the need to understand becomes a basic priority.  It is what our brain needs to know to face what is happening.  We want this word answered as if in some way, answering it could change things. The answer might bring hope and a clue to fix this. And yet, when a child dies, the how…every how to this question brings only one truth.  Your child is dead.

Our heart is more complicated and less accepting. It doesn’t care of the how. It asks why.  And it is the answer to this question that seals our fate as a grief warrior. The answer to the why is a never-ending question we keep reliving because we know how but we will never be able to understand why.

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