People often say that they could never cope with the death of a child—but they can!

Grieving for a child (whether an infant, teenager or an adult) is severe, complicated and long lasting (it often lasts for years and leaves the grievers fearing for their sanity—some people never reach the closure stage as in other grief circumstances).

It places extra stress on the relationship between the surviving parents and often leads to divorce.

I remember after my sister, Cindy, died, there was a time when my parents drew so far apart that they stopped communicating with one another (perhaps they were angry that the other hadn’t done more to help Cindy or they were annoyed that the other was not at the same place in grief to offer assistance to the other). They painstakingly avoided each other and when they did have to talk with one another it was with anger, negativity and annoyance. I found it hard to see them act this way so I tried to help them cope with their tremendous loss and pain and bring them closer together.

I asked both of them to join me in Cindy’s room (we were staying at Cindy’s house and our family had barely started making arrangements for her funeral, etc). While Mom sat on the edge of Cindy’s king-sized bed, Dad sat in Cindy’s wicker chair. I asked them each to face the other and take the other persons hands in their own. They complied. Then I asked them to look in each other’s eyes. That opened a floodgate of emotions that I think they just hadn’t wanted to see in the other. I prompted them to take turns talking to each other and take turns really listening to each other. After mediating for a few minutes, I quietly slipped away and softly closed the door behind me. They talked with one another for a long time and afterwards expressed to me their thanks.

Their individual grieving styles had initially made it difficult for them to support one another. As they experienced the long, hard road of grief, I watched them weave in and out of communication, vacillating between avoidance and immersion (see my previous Blog) at any given time.

But I do recall one particular moment when they were united:

It was a warm and sunny day when my family and I walked through the memorial gardens in Surrey, B.C., in search of what would become Cindy’s final resting place. It had to have a nice view and be near trees. It seemed we searched forever for the perfect spot we could all agree on. The process was very tiring for Mom, and I watched as Dad put his arm around her and led her away in privacy to comfort her. I have never forgotten that beautiful sight of them supporting each other in such a loving way and walking together and searching.

Today my father tells me, “I still can’t shake it—I’m not going to get rid of the feeling of loss [Cindy’s death].” – Yes, a bereaved parent can have an ongoing bond with their deceased “child”.

Mom remembers nothing—she has Alzheimer’s—and Dad lovingly cares for her as best he knows and can. Both are in their eighties and have been married for over 65 years and it warms my heart to see and hear Dad talk and act lovingly towards my mother (life has not been easy between them).

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My Friend
Read an excerpt now
The unsolved mystery of the death of Cindy James