Going Through It: When Your Child Is Grieving

I met him in the hallway, it was nearly 3 a.m., as he knocked softly on my door. "Mom, I'm sad."


He'd come across a CD with a song on it that reminded him of his dad. Tears filled his eyes. We hugged. He told me about the CD and his plans for it. He told me about the Godsmack CD he'd found, too. His plans for that one and where he thought Bob's other Godsmack CD might be. All of these pieces of his father he's trying to hold onto. They keep him awake late into the night.


His bedroom is next to mine. Sometimes I hear laughter, but lately, I hear sobbing. It's an echo of my own sadness, coming from the genes, half mine, half Bob's. Coming from our son. And it claws into my heart as only an extension of yourself can. As only your child's pain can.


I can't take his pain away just like I can't take my own pain away. We have to go through it. It will be messy and keep us up late and make our faces puffy and red, but it is the only path.


So, we do our late-night hugs, no matter the hour. He comes into my room and we talk about Daddy. We remember. We sit with it. Eventually, exhausted, we find our way to sleep. And, eventually, we'll find our way through it. We know.


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