The death of a child is a devastating experience. Just like any death of someone close to us, it never will go away but it can become less painful as time goes on.

My grandparents lost three children in childhood. One to cancer, one to rheumatic fever and one to an appendicitis. Fifty years later the loss of those children still affected the family.

My grandfather never talked about any of them without tears in his eyes. My grandmother was the opposite. Her eyes never melted and she would appear almost indifferent or cold to the pain. She would look at my grandfather with eyes I never understood, which we never saw unless the children came up in conversation.

One time I asked her in my childlike innocence why she never cried like grandpa did. She told me that she had no more tears left. She cried all of her tears years before and that her well had gone dry.

The point is that there are many stages of grief and there is no single right answer for how to support those suffering this kind of loss. Everyone copes with the loss differently and needs different kinds of support at each stage. I imagine my grandfather being the rock for my grandmother when these deaths occurred and later in life my grandmother as his rock.

Sometimes the right response is a pat on the back or the touch of a hand. At other times you just need to listen, while other times the parents need you to provide a distraction so they can think of something else. It is important to take the cues from the parents.

But I think the greatest fear for someone who has lost a child is that people will forget the child. For my grandparents, these children became part of the family lore. Their stories were passed down to the next generation and their pictures were brought out for people to see with much affection.

The enormous love they had for these children was always there in every story and every picture. In turn we learned to love them too. It really didn't seem like they were gone, but rather just in a different room. They never once talked about the devastating pain. They only told of their loving lives.

Today my grandparents and parents have passed away, and it is my job to keep the lives of these three children alive to my own kids. We look at their pictures and we stop at the cemetery. I am the keeper of their memories and that I feel is the greatest support that I can give.

My best advice to anyone, who is looking for ways to support a family that has suffered this loss, is to keep the memory alive of this special child. Celebrate the life of this child not the death.

Learn more about this author, MJ Suttor.
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