That’s the burning question when someone suffers a great loss like the death of their own child. Why was I chosen and not the person who is neglecting their kids? The unfairness can lead to anger, resentment and a host of other emotions. It’s against the natural order. A parent should not outlive their child. However, it happens every day.
My adult son, Shawn, gets annoyed with me when I put a positive spin on a negative event. I haven’t always been that way, to my knowledge. I lived in that dark, desolate place for a long time. I wouldn’t allow anyone to take away the grief that was rightfully mine. I needed to know the depth of my own sorrow. I even found the bottom of that dark, ugly pit. A parent needs to go through this process. They need to live it until they’re done. Then maybe they can feel a little less pain as the years progress.
Many years later, I see a bigger picture. Each soul has a plan. We make an agreement with our loved ones and our self before we’re even born. We agree to go through the trials so our soul can expand. By experiencing the richness of emotion, we grow. When we survive the worst pain imaginable, we can also know great heights, if we allow them. It’s like standing over a big, black ball of pain, knowing nothing will ever be that bad again. That pain was also profoundly beautiful when I look at it now.
Before we’re born, we agree to our lessons. I can say with surety, that if your child died, one of your life lessons is dealing with matters of the heart. This is a big lesson. It’s one of mine too. We choose. When we choose easier lessons, we grow a little. When we choose the hard, painful lessons, we grow a lot. We take a big leap forward in our soul’s evolution.
When we can finish our grieving, however long it takes, we’re free to see the bigger picture. When we can see the depths of our own emotion, we’re free to experience the heights. We can see endless possibilities for sharing the bond of love. Actually, we’re the fortunate ones. (Sorry Shawn, I have to say it). We’re fortunate to have our children closer to us now than when they were living. They are so close to us that we can no longer tell where we end and they begin.