NPR recently aired a segment about the lifestyle choices that increase humans’ life expectancy. The biggest factor was the quality of a person’s relationships and how connected they felt to others. When my son died the connections I had in my life were no longer enough. I found myself constantly on the look out for people I could connect to over my loss, who understood what it was like to see a future go up in smoke and have to rebuild something totally different in its place. Like a kid in a candy store I have gobbled up stories of those who triumphed over diversity and came out the other side of loss stronger than they were before. On a recent trip to Warsaw I realized that connections aren’t just made with people, sometimes cities have a story we can connect with too.
Once the dust from World War II began to settle it was clear no place in Europe had suffered a harsher fate than Warsaw. The Nazi’s plan to completely wipe it off the map came frighteningly close to becoming a reality. Eighty five percent of the buildings were leveled to the ground. In addition Warsaw lost over a million inhabitants, nearly 60% of its population. Residents returning home after the war found that their once magnificent capital was almost unrecognizable.
After my son died, I too was almost unrecognizable. The day he took his last breath in my arms a part of me died as well. The vivacious, free-spirited, optimist was gone. In her place stood a woman broken by grief, more interested in joining my son in the afterlife than continuing to travel the world in search of adventure. Like Warsaw I was 85% destroyed. And that was on a good day. Warsaw and I definitely had more than a few things in common.
Winding through the city’s streets pictures; placards and tour guides recounted the tale of a metropolis destroyed. Scars from a long ago war appeared everywhere. There was another story here as well though, the story of a city forced to reconstruct itself after unthinkable damage. One plaque stated: “The foundation of the reconstruction material was the inner strength and determination of the nation.” The Polish people took the undamaged parts of the city and immediately started rebuilding.
Instantly I felt my connection to Warsaw grow stronger. Inner strength and determination were the foundation of my survival as well. Thinking back to my first night in the hospital without Jack, I remembered searching the Kindle store and downloading the book “Empty Cradle, Broken Heart”. Like Warsaw, I started my rebuilding immediately and was able to use the undamaged parts of myself to begin the process.
During reconstruction changes were made. Building interiors were redesigned to better suit the needs of modern life and more open, communal spaces were carefully crafted. Today the historic center is a UNESCO world heritage site. A status it gained not because of what used to be there, but because of the remarkable efforts of the Polish people to create something even better.
The same is true of me. While there are parts that are gone for good what has appeared to replace them is a more compassionate person, one more grateful and connected to others. Today, I am better able to live in and appreciate the present, able to savor aching muscles after a hard run and a cup of coffee with friends in a way I never did before.
It has been over seventy years since the Warsaw reconstruction project came to a close. Yet, visitors are reminded that the work of rebuilding Warsaw will never truly be done. A sign off the main square reads, “Maintaining this area today takes vigilance. It is protected from potential threats by a system of problem identification, regular monitoring, ongoing conservation procedures, as well as urban, environmental, functional, and social changes.”
It has only been thirteen months since my own rebuilding began and Warsaw serves as both a city I can connect to and a reminder that maintenance will always be required. I have a lifetime ahead of both missing my son and honoring his short time here on Earth. Keeping that balance takes vigilance, I have to constantly be aware of triggers that might send me into a downward spiral. Protecting myself from potential threats sometimes takes more energy than I have. Like maintaining a UNESCO World Heritage site though, continually exploring ways in which I can heal and integrate my son’s loss into my life is no easy task. But wandering the streets of Warsaw I felt the warm embrace of a kindred spirit and a connection to history that reminded me we can all rebuild our lives, no matter how big the loss.
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Amanda Brandt -On May 11, 2015 my son, Jack, came into the world and just over twenty-four hours later he left it much too soon leaving behind a mother with a shattered heart. I strive to move forward and work to insure that Jack’s touch on my life is a positive one. In addition to being Jack’s mother I am a teacher, athlete, writer, and traveler who has lived and worked outside of the United States for the past ten years.
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