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.