What does healing in grief mean for me? Well, the very first thing I would say is that I’m not healed in a way that maybe I should be. You know, when you imagine an open wound that eventually closes over through scarring. It is there you know it is there, but it remains closed; it is almost forgotten – at the very least you don’t think of it much.
When people combine the words healing and child bereavement, all the above is exactly what “outsiders” view. You go through the stages, the death (the initial puncture to the skin), the coming to terms and things like the funeral, (the beginnings of healing). Then the aftermath (the final scarring, healing process). Then you’re meant to just get on with it.
But healing from the death of a baby or child, looks completely different. There is no scar tissue to help rebuild what is hurt; it doesn’t protect you from more pain. It can feel relentless, like the heavy painful feeing will never go away; reopening at unexpected moments.
You simply do not recover from this.
Healing looks different.
Healing isn’t always about moving on and forgetting. It comes in the shape of tears and laughter. Anger and joy. For me it I about being able to carry a legacy on for her. I have struggled with believing that she is with me all the time, I wish she as – but she isn’t. However, by talking about her, doing things in her memory, helps me with the guilt which surrounds her birth and then her death. I guess, it is like a walking stick, it helps me feel like I am doing something for her.
Time is a healer.
It isn’t, I just makes the length of time since I last held her longer, seem so far away. Time makes me forget things, it makes me forget her smell, and how she felt. Time makes it hurt more.
I’ll never be healed, but I know how to adjust the tape and glue.