Note: This blog was adapted from Chapter Three: The Garage of Tears from the book When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life With Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child.

Some of the worst times those first few years after my daughter, Becca, died were when I thought I saw her somewhere and got smacked once again with the crashing realization that it couldn’t possibly be her.

For me, the motorized scooter carts in a store still trigger the thought of my daughter. Even just hearing someone the next aisle over in one of those carts can give me a shocking reminder of my loss. I have had to fight tears so many times when I’m out shopping because of triggers like this.

Sometimes I “win” and can escape without crying, and sometimes I don’t as the tears spill down my cheeks. I sometimes wonder, why don’t I ever see anyone else in the store who looks like they’re crying? Or am I the only one who struggles with this?

There are so many bittersweet events now. Almost one year to the day of Becca’s death, we had the blessing of a new little granddaughter coming into this world. She was given the name of Becca as a second middle name. And since then, we’ve had several more grandchildren come into this world, who will never know their Aunt Becca. Like I said, bittersweet.

One of my sons got married six weeks before Becca passed away. This is the only sibling who will have the blessing of having their older sister be part of that major life event. Weddings are supposed to be a day full of joy and celebration. Like I said, bittersweet.

Sometimes when I feel the heaviness of grief trying to come in, I will pause and think of my beautiful Becca inheaven. She is experiencing the greatest celebration of all. I will remind myself that this earth is not my permanent home. “For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:18). At some point, life on this earth won’t matter, and we will all be united for eternity. What a glorious day that will be!

But until then, this is where we are, and we have to learn how to deal with life on this earth. The death of a child changes our lives, and it changes us more than anyone can even imagine. Only those of us who have experienced it can know what that means. And it is not that we are trying to elevate ourselves above someone who is grieving a different loss, such as a spouse or a parent. We would gladly not be a part of this elite club if there was any way possible to get out of it.

Is There Such a Thing as Grief Recovery?

In my searching for how to deal with my grief, I came across an article called “Grief Recovery.” As I started reading it, I discovered it was for any kind of loss including jobs, moving, pet loss, death, divorce or any kind of breakup, starting school…

It talked about how recovery is when we can have memories without the pain. I had a hard time reading it without getting angry. It is just impossible to compare grieving the death of a child to all these other things.

I’m not saying those things are not painful and that there is not a level of grief involved. I also know from others, as well as my own personal experience, that we can (and do eventually) get to a place where memories can warm our hearts instead of causing a stabbing pain. However, this article seemed to be saying that after you grieve the right way, you can move on with life and put the past behind you.

I might be able to move forward, but it is not by putting the death of Becca behind me! She will always be in front of me. Our children are our legacy. They are supposed to keep going when we leave this earth. Even if she isn’t with me anymore, I can’t leave her in my past and go on without her.

Even if we wanted to do so, the things that trigger us and remind us of our loss can come unexpectedly out of nowhere and bring back the memory, accompanied by unwanted pain once again.

I am a parent who took a lot of trips to the gravesite for probably a year or more. One day while I was there, the med-flight helicopter flew over me. I totally lost it and found myself sobbing uncontrollably. Later, I wrote on Facebook about what had happened, and a friend told me it was a sign of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). I guess it made sense.

For many, many months after Becca passed, whenever I heard an ambulance, I would freeze in panic and my mind would immediately question, “Where is Becca?” And of course, there was always the realization of where she was, and the siren I was hearing was definitely not for her. Some days I am okay with that, other days…

The first year of special dates is always difficult for anyone who has lost a loved one, but for a parent who has a child missing it can be almost unbearable. For us, Thanksgiving came first and brought with it the memory of how the year before, Becca had insisted on hosting the family, even though she was wheelchair bound. Then came Christmas, Becca’s favorite holiday, and then the pain of the first time she was not there to celebrate her birthday, and so on. Eventually it came around to the one-year anniversary of her death. Of course, all of those came with many tears. Some of them still do, years later.

It has taken me an entire lifetime to learn that tears are a gift from God. Yes, I know some people can’t seem to cry. But that is not the case for me. Tears have flowed freely and easily for me all my life. I now know that if I don’t allow myself to cry, it means I have allowed my heart to get hard. I have done that before and will never do it again!

Jesus knew that when His dear friend Lazarus died, it was only temporary. And yet we know Jesus wept. If you want to cry, go ahead and cry as hard as you need to. Park your car in the garage and have a good cry. Let your tears be the gift God gave them to be, allowing them to wash away some of the pain.

You can go back to the garage of tears anytime, and as often as you need to. You have full permission from someone who gets it.

 

This was just part of a chapter in the book When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life With Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child. To listen to the full chapter The Garage of Tears being read by author, Laura Diehl, click here.

Did you know that GPS Hope has three Guidance Courses based on Laura’s book When Tragedy Strikes?

• How Do I Even Start to Rebuild My Life?
• Working Through the Darkness
• Looking Toward My Future

Click here to find out more about each one.

During the month of July, we are running a special. When you purchase the audio book you can purchase all three courses for the price of only two! Click here to get the promo code after purchasing the audio book from your favorite retailer.

 

Expressions of Hope is provided by Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). The founders, Dave and Laura Diehl, travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, and bringing intimate weekend retreats to bereaved parents. Laura is also a singer/songwriter and the author of multiple award-winning books.

If you would like more information about bringing Dave and Laura to you for an event, please send an email to office@gpshope.org.

If you are interested in bringing GPS Hope to your area for a weekend retreat click here.

 

• Check out the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope weekly podcast
• Subscribe to Laura’s YouTube channel. 
• If you are a bereaved parent, we encourage you to connect with us on our private Facebook page or our public Facebook page. 
• If you are not a bereaved parent but want to support those who are, or want to follow us as we give hope to these precious parents, please connect with us at Friends of GPS Hope on Facebook.

 

If you are like I was when my daughter, Becca, died, I did not want to be here anymore. I even wrote in my journal, two months after she died:

So kill me, God! Do it now, please!

I didn’t think I could take the horrific pain and suffocating darkness anymore.

Day after day I wanted something to happen to me that would take me out of this world. I wasn’t suicidal, but I sure did not want to be here anymore! I could not imagine living the rest of my life in so much pain, without my daughter here by my side.

I hear and see quite often that other freshly grieving parents feel the same way I did. We aren’t usually suicidal; we just don’t want to live anymore. A part of our very being has been cut off from us and the pain is too great to continue living.

For most of my adult life, I wanted to live to be 100, like a few of my relatives. (There is longevity and good health on both sides of my family, so there is a fairly good chance of it.) But after Becca died, I took that off the table and decided the sooner I was out of here, the better!

But in God’s totally amazing love and grace, He did not answer that plea and allowed me to continue here on this earth. Yes, you read that right.

Let me say it again, just a bit differently. It is His deep love and eternal grace that keeps us here, when all we want to do is be done and go to our eternal home to be with our child.

It took several years, but I can honestly say how thankful I am that God did not answer my plea for death to take me. Why? Well, there are all kinds of reasons I have now, but truthfully, one of the main reasons is that I wouldn’t be here to encourage you!

Along with thousands of other pareavors before me, I made the transition of not wanting to be here, to being okay with it, and finally getting to where I actually want to stick around here for a few more years.

Most of us know in our heads that we have other people to live for. But it takes a while for our hearts to get past the horrendous pain, to be able to comprehend it in a way that becomes a lifeline for us.

To help get you there, pull out a piece of paper and write down at least five people who still want you and need you in their lives. (Don’t tell yourself no one needs you or would even miss you. That is the enemy feeding you lies!).  Is it a spouse? Someone at your place of fellowship or a special Bible Study? A parent? A coworker or neighbor? Other children or grandchildren?

What are some things you know that are in their future that it might be kind of nice to be there to see, or be part of? Write those things down next to their names.

Put that in a place where you will see it once in a while, and even continue to add to it as you think of people or events. Eventually, you will realize you no longer need the paper.

I understand you may have the thought, “My child should be part of these things, too! Why would I want to be there without him or her?”

Unfortunately, you cannot change that, and I know it hurts! But you can get to the place where the gladness of still being here with those you love will sometimes outweigh the pain of knowing your child is missing these earthly events, because you know that he or she is part of the glorious heavenly ones.

So, if you are like I was for many years, not wanting to be here anymore, just know that you are not the only one! And know that there is hope to get beyond it. If I can, you can, too.  You can have hope that it won’t always be like this. That is, unless you continue to choose to remain in the blackness of deep grief here on earth – which I hope you don’t because that is an even a more miserable place to be.

It will probably take longer than you think it should or want it to, and there can be many “setbacks,” but I can tell you, it is worth the fight. It is worth it to keep going; it is worth learning how to live a good life again here on earth until you are greeted by your child with a huge hug and the words, “You did great. I am so proud of you. Welcome home, Dad!”  or “Welcome home, Mom!”

For I am about to do something new.  See, I have already
begun!  Do you not see it?  I will make a pathway through
the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.
Isaiah 43:19 (NLT)

 

There is much more to this topic, which Laura shares on the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast. Click here to listen, or find the podcast on your favorite app and look for episode 217: I Don’t Want to Be Here Anymore Without My Child.

This blog and the podcast mentioned above were taken from Laura’s book Reflections of Hope: Daily Readings for Bereaved Parents. To find out more, click here.

Would you like to receive a Weekly Word of Hope written and sent by Laura? Let her know below. Your email address is safe with GPS Hope.

 

Expressions of Hope is provided by Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). The founders, Dave and Laura Diehl, travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, and bringing intimate weekend retreats to bereaved parents. Laura is also a singer/songwriter and the author of multiple award-winning books.

If you would like more information about bringing Dave and Laura to you for an event, please send an email to office@gpshope.org.

If you are interested in bringing GPS Hope to your area for a weekend retreat click here.

 

• Check out the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope weekly podcast
• Subscribe to Laura’s YouTube channel. 
• If you are a bereaved parent, we encourage you to connect with us on our private Facebook page or our public Facebook page. 
• If you are not a bereaved parent but want to support those who are, or want to follow us as we give hope to these precious parents, please connect with us at Friends of GPS Hope on Facebook.

After our daughter, Becca, died, I knew there was no word that could even come close to describing my pain. At the same time, I wondered why there is not a word for those of us who are still here after the death of our child. Someone who has lost their parents is an orphan. My son-in-law became a widower, and of course, a woman whose husband has died is called a widow.

This started to really bother me.

I did a search to see if I could find something. Nothing came up at the time. Since then, there is a word I have seen around here and there, which I talk about on the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast (episode 216 where this specific blog came from).

When we hear the word widow or orphan about someone, we know what type of life-changing loss they have experienced. But when telling someone about our loss, it is along the line of, “Her child died.” There is no word that identifies the devastating, horrific, heart shattering traumatic loss in our lives.

When we lose a child, it changes our identity, even if we still have other children still here with us. It especially changes our identity if you have lost your only child, or all your children.

Even though all our journeys are different, when you meet someone who has lost a child, there is an instant connection. It doesn’t matter what different beliefs we might have politically, spiritually, or otherwise. There is something that pulls our hearts together because you are someone who can relate to me in a way very few others can. You know what it is like to experience this loss that is like no other loss.

I think it is important to have a word that validates the fact that parents who have lost a child through death have a weight that is extremely heavy…heavier than most will experience in this life. Not as a label to give us permission to wallow in our deep sorrow, but one that draws us together to be able to strengthen and encourage each other within our life-long club membership that none of us wanted.

So, just who are we after the death of our child? Is there a word that unites us? A word that at least implies the depth of our pain?

I believe there is, and it is the word pareavor.

“Reave” comes from the word bereave. According to Merriam-Webster the meaning/definition of the actual word “reave” is: to plunder or rob, to deprive one of, to seize, to carry or tear away.

I think those are some pretty good descriptions of how we felt when our child died.

So, if we take away the “be” in bereave and replace it with a “pa” (because “pa” comes from the word parent: a person who is a father or mother; a person who has a child (Merriam-Webster)), we get pareave.

Then when you add an “or”  at the end (indicating a person who does something (Wiktionary)) you get the word pareavor.

The word pareavor sounds like a pretty good description of what happens when our child dies, no matter the age of the child. We are parents who have been deprived of our children who were seized and torn away from us through death. We are pareavors.

Who am I? I am a teacher, an author, a podcaster host, a singer/songwriter, full time RVer; I am a wife, a daughter, a mom, a grandma, an aunt, a niece, a friend, a cousin, a cat-lover, and… I am a pareavor. A parent who was violently robbed of my daughter’s life – a parent bereaved of my child.

Let me say that I am sorry you have a reason to even consider this as an option in your life as a description of who you are now as well.

No matter what words we use, either to try and describe what it is like or to specifically identify ourselves as someone who has faced the devastation of child loss, we are still all in this together.

We are pareavors – parents who are bereaved of our child. They may have been ripped away from us here on earth, which causes tremendous pain, but thankfully, it is not a permanent separation.

This was taken from the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast, episode 216. To listen to more than what was shared in this blog, click here, or find the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast on your favorite listening app.

 

Would you like to receive a Weekly Word of Hope written and sent by Laura? Let her know below. Your email address is safe with GPS Hope.

 

Expressions of Hope is provided by Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). The founders, Dave and Laura Diehl, travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, and bringing intimate weekend retreats to bereaved parents. Laura is also a singer/songwriter and the author of multiple award-winning books.

If you would like more information about bringing Dave and Laura to you for an event, please send an email to office@gpshope.org.

If you are interested in bringing GPS Hope to your area for a weekend retreat click here.

 

• Check out the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope weekly podcast
• Subscribe to Laura’s YouTube channel. 
• If you are a bereaved parent, we encourage you to connect with us on our private Facebook page or our public Facebook page. 
• If you are not a bereaved parent but want to support those who are, or want to follow us as we give hope to these precious parents, please connect with us at Friends of GPS Hope on Facebook.