Love: Does it End with Death?

I love Daniel.

Daniel’s been gone from Earth for almost 25 years (February 2 is the day he died). Over the years I’ve discovered a multitude of things about grief, about my grieving self— guilt, longing, the lonely hour of 3 AM—and about the way society handles loss.

After a loved one dies, we tend to use the past tense. Instead of I love Daniel, the acceptable thing to say is I loved Daniel. Since Daniel is not living any more, society speaks of him in the past tense. All of the characteristics of him are spoken in past tense, too. Daniel liked to collect stickers; Daniel’s favorite movie was Toy Story, the very first one. He recited jokes from a weathered joke book. He fought bedtime. He had a mischievous smile, especially on the day he went into my desk drawer, took out a self-inking Thank You stamp, and stamped his legs with it.

I know Daniel died. I was there when it happened. I’m not delusional about things, except for when it comes to algebra because that has never made sense to me. I believe that when Daniel took his last earthly breath, his soul arrived in Heaven. He is now in the presence of Jesus, his Savior, whom he learned about in church and through Bible stories from an illustrated book. Daniel still exists; he’s just doesn’t exist here on Earth anymore, except for in our memories.

I loved him while he was my son, for those four short years that I was privileged to be his mama. I still love him, as I love my three adult children who live close by. My love for Daniel has not stopped just because he isn’t with us and I can’t see him open a birthday gift or eat the grilled cheese sandwiches he was fond of enjoying or get his photo taken by the Christmas tree.

I love Daniel. I’ll say it again. I love Daniel. And I invite you to use the present tense when you are talking about the love you hold for your loved one that has passed onto the heavenly eternal.

Even death cannot end the love we have. We don't stop loving a person just because he or she is gone. Love goes on.

Pockets of Grief

Grief comes unexpectedly. Most of us recognize this. But sometimes for those of us who are seasoned grievers, we are surprised when the pockets of grief fill. We think we have control over our feelings of longing and yearning for a loved one who had died.

The Christmas tree was up, bright decorations sat on the coffee table, and some hung from shelves. Christmas tunes played as I prepared for our family's Christmas Eve gathering. I put plates of cookies, dates, and cheese on the dining room table.

Then why did a sudden deep sadness fill the kitchen? I felt like my bones had been carved out and sorrow had been pushed into them. This is a cheerful season, I thought. What's wrong with me?

When my son Daniel first died, Christmases were nearly impossible to celebrate. My husband and I took our three young children someplace away from our home so that we did not have to be in the very house where Daniel was missing. The absence of our four-year-old was too much to handle during a time of festivities. I wanted to be able to close my eyes the week before Christmas and not have to deal with any of the celebrations until the week after the new year. But we know that's not possible, and so like other grievers, others who have had to bury a child, I had to learn how to adapt and adjust to the holidays.

It's been 24 years since Daniel's death. So no wonder I was surprised this past Christmas season when I felt overwhelmed with emotion.

Fortunately I had two bereaved parents, friends of mine, to text. I sent each of them separate text messages. They assured me that my grieving was normal. “Accept yourself in your beauty and brokenness,” wrote one.

I know that many people feel discouraged and depressed around the holidays, and that we need to be mindful of the fact that others around us are lonely and aching. Just because they are cheery decorations, family and friends, and even Christmas songs and hymns that speak of joy, doesn’t mean that all feels well.

In this new year you may have moments of sorrow. Don't deny them, acknowledge them. I find that writing helps. A journal or just any old slip of paper and a trusty, comfortable pen are great tools to use as you spend time writing. Write from your pain. Share a happy memory about your loved one. See what develops.

And one more bit of advice that I like to give, advice that has helped me, be sure to buy sturdy and soft tissues. Because when the tears come, our eyes deserve the best.

Grieving the loss of a loved one never leaves. Even when we think we have the pain tucked away, it can arrive unexpectedly. Don’t run from it; embrace it, if you can. We grieve over a person because we love. What a blessing it is to have had this special person (child, parent, friend, spouse) to love on Earth and to continue to love long after he/she is gone.