Loss, Love

I’ve had miracles in my life, and I have had losses.

It has been the losses, not the miracles, that taught me how to forgive. Admittedly, a quality of mercy I had difficulty practicing earlier in life.

I won’t pretend that the loss I experienced was easy or “a good thing” or even say “I’m fine and it’s okay.” Because it isn’t. The pain is a daily sensation, both day and night. I feel it whenever I consciously take a breath. There are no pills or medications or gurus who can cause it to lessen.

It is no secret that I have lost the joy of a child. I feel no need to deny a reality when questioned by those who already knew the truth. I wonder if the tragic tale will be my legacy when others remember, “Did you know?”

Initially, I went into a period of shock naively believing the silence was merely a temporary void in our line of communication. I knew how much I loved my child and never for a moment lacked confidence he shared the same emotion for both his parents.

I was confident I would soon welcome him back into my solitary world. We loved each other. I know that. It is a consoling memory and still lingers despite the pain.

However, that wasn’t what happened. The quiet months became years of silence.

There has not been a second of consciousness when I have not grieved at his absence and mourned the inexplicable loss.

Friends who know what has happened wonder at the absence of anger. I pray they never learn the stark reality of a similar situation and remain in the comfort of ignorance.

The inevitable sentence, “It would never happen to me,” has been uttered constantly in my presence. I have learned not to react, but that is not easy. Words can draw blood quickly despite good intentions

I find myself becoming calmer as my time on this earth dwindles. Still I have not yet learned acceptance of this loss, and truly doubt I ever will.

However, I have certainly become more educated in the power of love. I probably love my son more today than I did eleven years ago when I last heard his voice.

I remember daily how much joy, pleasure and delight I had in the decades we shared. I also know I will miss him for the remainder of my days on this earth.

Because so much of the winter of my life has been spent minus the joy his presence evoked, the void is now a wound that will never heal nor allow scar tissue to form.

However, I am starting to understand why this happened. I believe I had to learn how to forgive.

I admit now I needed that lesson, and realize I have learned it quite well.

I also know it will never be forgotten