I Had Heard

Post 284

Sometime early to mid 2023 I had heard it said for some people the second year after the loss of a child is worse than the first year. I remember being incredulous that could ever be the case.

I don't find it worse as a whole, but there is a different kind of “bad” to it. At the beginning, the first half year after Morgan passed, I look back and see I was mostly living in a state of semi-shock. I constantly needed to try to find reasons God allowed her to leave us so soon. Of course the reasons are unknowable, but even writing this blog was one way to try to bring some kind of earthly good to others out of my loss. I wanted to bring good into the world that she no longer could. I would try to make meaning from her death then.

As the year wore on, I became accustomed to the loss and learned to live with pain always there; learning to accept it always would be. Most days were fine. I never struggled for even entire days after the first couple months, but many minutes within each waking hour were spent either directly crying or wanting to. My work would keep me engaged for hours at a time sometimes, and that was a relief. I’m still thankful for my job since this is still the case, even though it can get really stressful at times. Whenever I had opportunity to get out with friends and enjoy myself, those were also real oasises.

So many of you who read this substack have been such encouragers to me. So many friends and family as well. I truly always knew the thoughts and prayers were keeping me strong. Thank you!

As year two is unfolding, and I’m approaching the 18-month mark, it feels just more alone. Of course the shock has worn off for everyone since Morgan’s death does not directly affect anybody but me, her dad, and her brother on such a personal level. It would be abnormal for other people to continue to be affected. It is entirely appropriate and normal that thoughts and prayers are directed to many other people experiencing unwelcome earthly pain and loss in the present. We’d all be praying for many hours a day if we tried to pray for everything and everyone we could be!

Every single day I miss my daughter. I think about her so often. I talk to her and God a lot. I ache to see her and I know she’s not coming back, so the only thing I can hope for is that God will take me sooner than old age. I can't imagine having to wait that long.

During the day to kill a little time between things, I’ll go on substack and scroll through the homepage feed. For me there are mostly a lot of faith-based and medical type posts. Today again I saw one alluding to “thank God I woke up to see another day.” All I could think was “Not me.”

But I know there is purpose for me or I’d also be called home. Each day I have to attempt to put on my strong armor and get out there and live. I’d be doing God and Morgan a disservice if I didn't still make the best I can with the hand I’ve been dealt. My time will come, and when it does, just know I’ll finally be whole again.

In a few weeks when I go to Ohio, I’ll be catching up with the friend I reconnected with last summer who I think is 3 years ahead of me down this road. I’m looking forward to her advice and to see if it gets better.

This post is kind of a downer, but I decided to write it so that those who love people who are grieving the loss of a child can try to get a glimpse of the depth of the pain. We’ve learned to accommodate the pain, but it is actually part of us now, not much different than losing a limb. We are different now. It’s not gonna change.