What Is the Worst?

       I went to my first grief support meeting believing that I had suffered the worst tragedy one could face. I expected support, because I knew all of the people there had experienced the death of their child, and I was offered deep understanding as well as support.

       As I listened to each person tell his or her story, I started comparing the sadness in regard to how each loss had occurred. Accident, suicide, murder, infant death, illness – I hadn’t thought about the range of tragedies. It occurred to me that perhaps some experiences were more tragic than others.

       One person told about watching her own child ride his tricycle into the front of a moving car. She kept saying she should have kept a better eye on him.

        A man told about going up into the attic of his home several months after his son died and finding the bullet the teen had sent through his own head. It seemed like such a terrible ramification!

       A woman described how hard it was for her because her infant died before there was any interaction between she and her baby. She envied the rest of us because she had no wonderful memories to relive.

       My husband and I shared that one morning our son said “Bye!” and we never saw him again.

       Then came the clincher: The leader told about her baby that died of Sudden Death Syndrome, and then she described how her teenaged daughter had died in a car accident. That was worse than losing one child: She had lost two children!

       Several years ago, some friends of ours lost their child to brain cancer. After the funeral I said to the mother, "I can't imagine how hard it must be to know your child is dying." She looked at me and said, "Oh, but I got to say goodbye, and you didn't." I wasn't convinced, but I admired her grace.
       My cousin's daughter and baby granddaughter died in a freak drowning. I was speechless and not just a little angry that a simple sign might have prevented the accident. But when I got to the funeral, he took me to view the casket and said, "Isn't that just the saddest sight you've ever seen?" It was, for him and for me.

       The truth is, each situation is, at least to the parent, the worst. There is no comparison. The loss is so profound it cannot be measured in anyway. And yet, if we look hard enough, we can find some little sliver of relief.

       Now as I look back at the more than 20 years since our son’s death, I realize that not only is each situation of child loss unique and profound, so is every other grief experience. My mother died when I was 21 years old and that was devastating for me. My best friend died when we were in our 30’s, and that was such a lonely grief. My parents-in-law died, and I was very sad, as I was just when my father died. Each grief carried a different response, but they were all full of sadness.

        Grief can extend to other losses besides death: There is the loss of a relationship, a job, a beloved pet, or even certain activities.
       As I write this, I don't want to diminish the nightmare that is the death of a child. It leaves a scar for the remainder of a parent's life, and it calls upon all of the resources a person can find to just cope with what is left of life. The death of a child takes its toll for years (someone told me it takes seven years for the deep pain to subside, and I found that to be true for us). But as we cope during that long period, we need to understand the grief of others as well.

       We cannot compare grief. We might compare shock, loneliness, confusion, anger, but grief manifests itself as the worst thing to happen at a given time to one specific person. We must understand that expressing sympathy is a very personal way of comforting a relative, friend or acquaintance, and to express that sympathy without comparisons includes understanding that person is feeling that they are in the very deepest of sorrows.