“Everything happens for a reason”. Bet you’ve heard that one too many times? In fact, when you’ve lost your child, one time is too many. There can surely be no decent reason that any parent should be without their child. Nor can you expect to see or find the dreaded silver lining.

I use the word ‘dreaded’ because that’s what it is. A sense of guilt that any happiness or joy can come from such a tragic experience. A child’s death, no matter the circumstances, be it sudden, long term illness, stillborn or any other fate, cannot and should not lead us to happiness.

But I ask you with all the love I can muster, from one Still Mother to another, are we doomed to live in sadness and grief? Our children’s memories deserve so much more than that. They deserve to be celebrated, not just mourned.

It’s not just the pressure that we put on ourselves to act a certain way, but there are social expectations of how a grieving mother should behave too, adding to the weight we already carry. I often see characters of grieving mothers depicted on television shows, huge bags under her eyes, red cheeks like she has been crying for days, often disheveled. As characters, the mothers can be “crazy”, fixating on finding reason or answers, or a connection to their child. Fixated on the loss. I imagined that’s how I would be, curled up in a corner of my room. Sure I’ve curled and I’ve cried, heavily. But I’ve also smiled, and laughed.

In the days post my daughters passing, I was amazed at how many people I knew came forward to me with stories of children they had known who had passed, including my own neighbour, who had lost her first born nearly 50 years earlier. For someone who is just beginning to experience something like this, its hard to see through to the other end. Hearing these stories helped me understand that life, with all of its ups and downs, does and should go on and, that it is ok. Some would say there was a sudden light at the end of the tunnel, but in reality it created forks in my tunnel, and each road lead towards a different light.

My daughter has since opened my eyes to so much beauty. I see her everywhere, and I feel her in every breathe of air. She lines the horizon where the sea meets the sky. And now she is my silver lining. I am blessed to love so deeply that not even death can separate us. I take joy in moments of the day I previously overlooked. The tragic death of my daughter has lead me to a fuller life with eyes wide open. But still some days I close them and cry, because that helps me to feel close to her too.

I don’t expect the pain to ever leave me, but I don’t want to be controlled by it. Why should I have to lose myself in searching for reason when I can choose to accept the unacceptable? I am stronger because I am standing through it all, even if my legs feel shaky most of the time.

I will always let my daughter define me and inspire me, because now I am living for us both.

• Author
• Recent Posts

Lorraine Donnelly

Lorraine lives in Sydney Australia with her wonderful husband Andrew. Just 3 months after they married she fell pregant during their honeymoon. Zoey Emilia was born in February. She passed away at 3 and a half months of age due to a severe genetic condition. They never got to take her home from hospital. The traumatic experience helped her to realise how precious life is. She spends her days day dreaming of Zoey and finding ways to honour her memory.

Latest posts by Lorraine Donnelly (see all)

• What About Him? - December 18, 2017
• Beating Breakdowns - December 4, 2017
• Thankful - November 20, 2017