Bereavement Support Group
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I wrote this in 1999 and I still feel the words.
When I was pregnant, I was told by other pregnant women that the pain from giving birth would be far greater than any pain I could imagine, but they were wrong; the pain from the death of my son was more excruciating that the pain from giving birth. Experiencing the pain and pleasure of my sons life gave me time to appreciate him.
My experience with birth pain could not compare to the pain I felt from my sons death. The pain I experienced while giving birth to my son was not at all what I expected. I speculated that my pain from the birth of my son would make me feel like pulling my hair from my scalp. My sons birth was an experience of pain that gave me insight into the greater pain I would feel in the future. Remembering the first time I held my son filled me with excitement until a profound feeling of depression swept over me. How could the touch of his skin against mine tell me that he would leave this earth before me? I did not know when, where, or how this would come to be my destiny. How could I foresee what the future would bring to destroy my life as I knew it to be at that moment? I asked myself, How will I go on? How could God do this to me? The day of my sons death was the day the earth, the moon, and the stars forgot to rotate around the sun. Life as I knew it had died in my arms out of revenge. Who could be so cruel to put a bullet in my sons head and destroy my world in a moment of anger? The death of my three year old son took me through so many emotions that I did not know existed. I was not prepared for the bouts of depression I would have to fight and understand in the years to come. I tried on several occasions to bring death upon myself through overdosing on prescription drugs, putting a gun to my head, and cutting my wrists. My obsession with death was strong, so strong that in the past my first thought upon waking would be, Today is a good day to die. I cannot say for sure whether I can or will overcome the emotional strain I face constantly. However, I know that through death I have not lost the love and the memories of my son, but only his physical presence. Birth pains are not as painful as the emotional pain I experienced from the death of my son.
The greatest pleasure I have experienced was knowing my son, Anton. My son, Anton, could make me feel angry and smile at the same time. I remember thinking, How could this beautiful little person with his crooked smile, luscious black hair and twinkling eyes bring me so much pleasure? The love I bestowed upon him bounced back and forth between us unconditionally and truthfully. Sharing my love with my son gave me the chance to experience love that I thought was greater than God. How could the pleasure of sharing my love with Anton be so powerful? I can remember the way his touch would make my heart burn from the overwhelming love that cascaded through my veins. Remembering the small things about my son gives me time to reflect on the pleasures of knowing him as a person. Recalling the attitudes, the laughter, the hellos, and the good-byes tells me that my son will always be a part of my existence. Experiencing the greatest pleasure of knowing Anton allowed me to absorb his soul.
The pain and pleasure of my sons life has given me the chance to enjoy it over time.
When I was pregnant, I was told by other pregnant women that the pain from giving birth would be far greater than any pain I could imagine, but they were wrong; the pain from the death of my son was more excruciating that the pain from giving birth. Experiencing the pain and pleasure of my sons life gave me time to appreciate him.
My experience with birth pain could not compare to the pain I felt from my sons death. The pain I experienced while giving birth to my son was not at all what I expected. I speculated that my pain from the birth of my son would make me feel like pulling my hair from my scalp. My sons birth was an experience of pain that gave me insight into the greater pain I would feel in the future. Remembering the first time I held my son filled me with excitement until a profound feeling of depression swept over me. How could the touch of his skin against mine tell me that he would leave this earth before me? I did not know when, where, or how this would come to be my destiny. How could I foresee what the future would bring to destroy my life as I knew it to be at that moment? I asked myself, How will I go on? How could God do this to me? The day of my sons death was the day the earth, the moon, and the stars forgot to rotate around the sun. Life as I knew it had died in my arms out of revenge. Who could be so cruel to put a bullet in my sons head and destroy my world in a moment of anger? The death of my three year old son took me through so many emotions that I did not know existed. I was not prepared for the bouts of depression I would have to fight and understand in the years to come. I tried on several occasions to bring death upon myself through overdosing on prescription drugs, putting a gun to my head, and cutting my wrists. My obsession with death was strong, so strong that in the past my first thought upon waking would be, Today is a good day to die. I cannot say for sure whether I can or will overcome the emotional strain I face constantly. However, I know that through death I have not lost the love and the memories of my son, but only his physical presence. Birth pains are not as painful as the emotional pain I experienced from the death of my son.
The greatest pleasure I have experienced was knowing my son, Anton. My son, Anton, could make me feel angry and smile at the same time. I remember thinking, How could this beautiful little person with his crooked smile, luscious black hair and twinkling eyes bring me so much pleasure? The love I bestowed upon him bounced back and forth between us unconditionally and truthfully. Sharing my love with my son gave me the chance to experience love that I thought was greater than God. How could the pleasure of sharing my love with Anton be so powerful? I can remember the way his touch would make my heart burn from the overwhelming love that cascaded through my veins. Remembering the small things about my son gives me time to reflect on the pleasures of knowing him as a person. Recalling the attitudes, the laughter, the hellos, and the good-byes tells me that my son will always be a part of my existence. Experiencing the greatest pleasure of knowing Anton allowed me to absorb his soul.
The pain and pleasure of my sons life has given me the chance to enjoy it over time.
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