Losing a second child

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

It’s difficult enough losing one son. But to lose a second to the same medical condition — that’s not easy for any mother to deal with.

Earlier this week I spoke with the mother of a classmate who passed away. Her son was a decent guy, a talented musician and got on well with most people. When I read about his death in the school magazine, I attempted to make contact with his family via the school. His mother called me back.

My friend was 31 years old when he died. I had last spoken with him 15 years ago, but had lost touch with him since leaving school.

His mother explained that when his younger brother died due to the same medical condition, my friend’s health suddenly deteriorated too – almost as though he had given up hope.

But today’s post isn’t about hope or regaining lost hope. It is about the painful reality of a mother’s second loss.

So here we are, a mother who had lost two sons. There is of course a third son who lives, the eldest son. Some may indelicately state that “at least you still have him, your eldest son” — but that doesn’t make it any better. That doesn’t make the loss any less.

Some may say “at least both your sons are no longer suffering” — but that doesn’t make a mother’s loss any less either.

Others may still fumble “ok, it’s time now for you to get on with your life and make the most of what you have left” — but a mother’s loss takes time to deal with, to live out its course in its own natural time.

I’m reminded of the mother of another school friend (a friend who passed away in a car accident almost a decade ago). Since then she has become a grandmother, twice. But it doesn’t take away the loss of her son.

Family events will come and go. Families will expand and grow and transition through bad times and good. But a son lost will never be forgotten, nomatter how much outside forces may insist it should.

My thoughts right now are with all the mothers who have raised and lost. Lost through distance. Lost through misunderstandings. Lost through death.

A mother’s loss doesn’t get easier, regardless of how many times she experiences it. I hope that the suffering mothers in the world around us find some comfort and courage to feel lighter, to grow stronger, to live with love.

Get out of bed

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

There are some days that I just don’t want to get out of bed, but I’ve chanced upon something that guarantees I arise in the morning with zeal.

The warm comforting trap of the duvet

For some reason there are mornings when I feel shitty about myself yet all safe and warm wrapped up in the duvet. I tend to indulge in the comfort and can’t bear to face the world.

Perhaps I’m dissatisfied with who I am or the way I look. Perhaps I’m not challenged enough at work, or I feel disconnected from the people who matter to me. Perhaps I’m not keeping the promises I make to myself and so letting myself down and disappointing those around me.

Whatever the reason, on those days I feel horrible and just don’t want to get out of bed.

But here’s the thing – it turns out there’s a sure-fire way of shaking off that funk.

What I’m about to share with you, I don’t manage everyday, but when I do manage it, it makes the world of difference.

Arise from the delusion of comfort; Live to serve

There comes a point while I am gradually waking up that I start to think about the people in my life – those around me who I care about and who deeply care about me.

I think about who they are, where in the world they live and what they need the most.

I think about what they say and what is left unsaid. I recall the expressions on their face and the things they do.

It wakes me up, literally, to the important needs of the people around me.

It reminds me of how everyone is the same. How everyone craves love and how everyone has fears.

Then I think about who I am and what I have, right now, to offer that love, to heal the pain, to pacify their fears.

Magically, as my delusion of comfort starts to shift, my heart fills with energy and I look forward to waking up.

As I arise from my slumber and push my own dissatisfaction to the side, I realise that I ought to get out of bed.

Only then can I offer love. Only then can I pacify fears. Only then can I heal pain.

It’s only then that I can serve and only then can I truly live.

Good morning!

The carer’s role

Written by Suraj Shah. Inspired by greatness.

Have you lost someone who depended on you for their well being?

Some people in life are natural carers. They behave towards others with great respect, care and love.

Others are faced with a situation where they are forced to be a carer for someone who needs their support, fulfiling their duty the best way they can.

I believe you’re the second type, gradually becoming the first.

The care giver

You may be the husband, who looked after his wife right through to the day she died.

You may be the father, whose daugher married into a family that lives far away.

You may be the mother who waved goodbye to her son who has left home for university.

Whatever your role, you are a carer, a care giver, the giver of love and support and comfort.

Preparing for goodbye

As the husband with the severely ill wife, you may welcome her death, thinking that it may stop her suffering. With no prospect of a cure, you may have adjusted to the idea of your dear wife dying.

As the father whose daugher is about to be married, you may welcome her departure, understanding that she needs to start her own family.

As the mother whose son is about to leave home to start university, you may welcome his progression, realising that he needs to study and commence his career.

Whatever your role, you are a carer, a care giver, the giver of love and support and comfort.

Feelings of loss

When we care for others and the time comes for them to depart, it creates an inevitable vacuum in our lives.

We may feel bewildered or guilty or dislocated.

We may feel lost and confused and hurt.

With their loss, we may feel that we have lost our role in life. But does it mean we’re no longer a carer?

Continuing to care

Whatever the loss, the caring need not stop.

Find someone, something, anything to pour your love into.

Find someone to care for, mend a broken heart.

The pain of loss gets a little softer, the warmth of your presence expands.