by Barbara King

Created on: September 08, 2008   Last Updated: November 01, 2008

Losing an Adult Child

Never in my worst nightmare would I have thought that I would have to live through the loss of a child. I had dealt with the loss of my parents fairly easily. This was the order of things, but losing a twenty-four year old son was not right. My life and heart were shattered into a million pieces. Life would never be the same again. And it hasn't been. After eleven years, I am making it through this daily journey of grief and becoming a stronger and better person. So can you.

There are various stages of grief. After hearing the words,"He's gone", I went into denial. Surely I would wake up and this would just be one of those dreams that seem so real that you wake up with tears on your face. I expected to see his smiling face in every room. Sometimes I'd spot the back of a head that I would have sworn was Kevin, but turned out to be only a stranger.

Guilt and anger were simultaneous with me. "Did I cause this?" "Wasn't there something I could have done to prevent it?" "Why was God punishing me?" "Why did my wonderful son have to die when they're so many jerks in the world that would actually leave the world a better place if they died?" I know that sounds selfish, but I was selfish. I had lost my child, a part of me.

I tried bargaining with God, even though I knew it was fruitless. "Lord, I'm willing to go at any time please bring back my son."

Depression is overwhelming. It winds around you and takes all the pleasure out of life. I wished I could wear black or an arm band, anything to let people who didn't know me, realize why sometimes I acted so dopey. One moment I could be laughing and the next sobbing. Grief is a roller coaster, your emotions change moment to moment. I think the most frightening thing for me was that I couldn't make decisions and I didn't care about anything. For an opinionated person like me it was very scary not to have an opinion, not to have feelings about things.

Finally I got to the point where I accepted my son was dead. I was alive. It was up to me to make sure he was never forgotten by those who knew and didn't know him.

My way of dealing with grief was to go to grief counseling for two years. I also joined a grief group where I was able to share my journey and share in others' journeys. I saw other people going on with their lives and knew that I could too.

I have changed a lot since that day eleven years ago when my son died. I take nothing and no one for granted. I always say "I love you." when some one leaves the house. I have my priorities in order and "do not sweat the small stuff" that used to occupy so much of my time. But most of all I have a compassion for those that are in physical, mental or emotional pain that I never felt before I went through this experience.

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