Crafting a Relationship With Loss

"In my life, I understood that every family will experience loss, but I thought surely my family would not experience an inordinate amount. I believed the fantasy formula stating that if we didn't harm people and did our best to support others, we would likely be immune to significant loss. I also enjoyed the illusion that maybe, just maybe, my love could make a relationship permanent-I mean, just this one lifetime."

"Well, I have three daughters. One died two days after her birth. Another was born with a serious neurological disability impairing both fine and gross motor skills. It took time for me to see Sarah beyond the shroud of ableism. The voice of "She and I deserve more" is almost completely silent now. Sarah recently turned 51, and I am asked to be with the courage, simplicity, and love she brings."

"The loss of anyone or anything we cherish is painful. Loss often means we end as someone's parent, sibling, or spouse. We create a life, a meaningful life, with someone we love. This person now only lives in our memory. We can't touch them, hold them, or see them in the countless ways they touched us. Our sorrow deepens as we let go of the life we would have created."

"If we're honest, most of us don't want a relationship with loss. We simply want it to go away. However, go away, it won't. Life is about change. Nothing is permanent, no matter how much we'd like it to be."

Loss makes what is taken easy to notice and what is given difficult to notice. Every family experiences loss, and the belief that goodness prevents significant loss proves false. A family can face multiple kinds of loss, including a child dying shortly after birth, another living with a serious neurological disability, and a third being estranged for decades. Loss reshapes relationships and forces a shift from ableism toward seeing a person fully. It also turns dreams into something fragile, since hopes can be removed instantly. Life continues through change, and a relationship with loss requires making peace with what was and what might have been.

Read at Psychology Today