Years ago when I was twenty-something, unmarried, and not yet a mother, I met a “strange lady” whose young adult son had been killed in an accident. When I met her, it had been several years since the tragic event. She seemed to hide her face behind her long dark hair and a variety of attractive hats she usually wore. People whispered that she should have been “over it” after this much time, and they wondered whether she was mentally stable. People also whispered that she had a shrine in her house for her son. She once showed me a photo of this “shrine.” It looked like a table with a few framed photos, his high school football awards, and a few other items. I now understand that it wasn’t a shrine, it was simply a remembrance of the son she loves and lost. I remember how people, including me, avoided her. No one that I know of tried to understand her or reach out to her. I thought she was a bit odd and had no clue yet about dealing with the death of someone close to me.
Now, nine long and short years after my own son’s death, I wonder if people also whisper about me. Do they wonder if I’m mentally unstable because I still talk about Derek? Do they think it is strange that I have mementos and pictures all over my house? I don’t limit it to one small table. Do people think I should be “over it” by now? It’s been NINE YEARS, after all. They were over it long ago. Am I a “strange lady?”
I guess I wonder these things, but knowing the answer doesn’t change the facts. I’m not over the loss of Derek, and I don’t think I will be until I can wrap my arms around him again when God makes all things new. I am not hanging on to memories because I am in denial. After nine years without him, his absence is all too real. The items in my house are not a shrine, they are memories of beautiful times together. Memories are all I have. I guess I want people to understand that when Derek died nine years ago today, my love for him did not. No amount of time will change that. My love for him is not transferable to anyone else, and it will not die until I do.
As I think back on that experience from this point in my life, I wish I could find that lady and wrap my arms around her and ask her to tell me about her son and about each item on that little table. I understand her hidden face and her distance. I regret the whispered rumors and the lack of sympathy. Nine years is a very short time in the scheme of things.
8 comments:
We live and learn.
Life experiences shape a person.
We don't choose all of our experiences and some are pleasant and some are harsh.
It is good to keep moving along loving and living.
Everyone wants to be remembered for their value in our lives. It is good to talk about those we love.
It is good to remember most everyone bares pain inside. We all show it differently.
My dearest Heather
This open letter to those who love you and loved beautiful Derek, exquisitely explains that grief has no expiration date nor does love.
Feel the power of your love and the commitment of your family and friends to understand more purposefully.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
Love you
Cheri
Your reflection on the 'strange lady' and your own journey through grief it's a testament to the enduring power of love and memory. It's striking how societal expectations can often overshadow the genuine needs of those grieving, implying that there's a 'right' way to process loss and a specific timeline for healing. But your experience beautifully illustrates that grief is a highly personal and unique journey for each individual.
The way you've come to understand the 'strange lady's' actions—seeing her remembrance not as a shrine but as a tribute to her son's memory—is a powerful lesson in empathy. It's a reminder that what might seem unusual to one person can be a vital source of comfort and connection for another. Your own approach to keeping Derek's memories alive through mementos and pictures throughout your home is a celebration of your bond with him, and it's perfectly valid.
It's also important to acknowledge the courage it takes to live authentically with your grief, especially when it feels like others might not fully understand or might judge you for still feeling the weight of your loss after nine years. Your love for Derek hasn't diminished with time, and that's a beautiful thing. It's a testament to the depth of your relationship and the impact he had on your life.
Remember, your journey is yours alone, and it's okay to take the time you need. Your love for Derek is a reflection of the beautiful memories you shared, and holding onto those memories is a way of honoring his presence in your life.
The loss of a child is on a level that most do not understand. I don’t see any path moving forward that doesn’t acknowledge the depth of love a mother/parent has for their child. I have come to know you better in the last couple of years and I see an amazing woman, full of kindness and grace who goes the extra mile for her family, her friends and her students. I wish It was possible to change the past and I mourn this life for you and your family. Please know that there are so many lifting you all up in prayer to our loving Father in heaven who grieves with you. I know that you touch each person you meet in this journey in such a special way, we are blessed. You are definitely not a strange lady and I wish God would give us the eyes to see all around us who are in need of love and compassion. Derek was gifted the best family and I know the heavenly reunion will be grand.
Heather,
Thank you for sharing your heat. We cannot fathom the pain and hole in you and your family’s heart. Our thoughts and prayers are with you! We cannot wait for the day to see you united! Come Lord Jesus!
Gatra & Linda
Thank you for reminding me not to try and pound people into my own preconceived notions. As I get older, God is teaching me...sometimes using folks who are transparent enough to share their souls. 😉
Thank you for your raw testimony and confirmation of faith in God. The One who will make all things new and we will then see and hug our loved ones again! Come, Jesus, come!
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