Longing

Poems of Loss, Love and Light.

I look for you
everywhere

It's an
existential ache
this longing to 
see you again

If you returned
I wouldn't be greedy
a few seconds
would do

And if that was 
too much
I'd settle for knowing
you were somewhere

Just send me a sign
help me believe that
wherever it is
you're still here

Because anywhere is 
better than nowhere. 

---

I’ve never admitted this before, even though I reckon it’s a thought many other bereaved parent have had. What’s my confession? It’s that losing my son would feel so much less painful if I knew he existed still, somewhere.

I wouldn’t have to actually see him. I’d be willing to forfeit all those hugs (which I miss SO much) if I only had the reassurance that he hadn’t completely gone. That he was still a part of this earth, even if our paths never crossed.

I know I’m not alone. I’ve seen this extreme longing from other parents whose child died. And I guess mediums understand this too, as they must regularly witness how desperately parents want to make any kind of living connection with their child again.

---

Of course I miss my son every day. But coming to terms with his death has involved a much more complicated negotiation with the universe than simply accepting I won’t see him any more. And it’s made me consider this loss in the context of the one experienced by parents in days gone by, when children sometimes emigrated to another country (or continent), effectively separating them from each other long-term.

Nowadays we live in a global world, meaning it’s also quite possible children end up living on the other side of the world. This must be hard for a parent but at least international flights make it possible to occasionally spend time together, and in between the internet means they can keep regularly in touch, seeing each other, if only via screens. Whereas in the ‘old days’ your child going off to live in another country probably meant you’d never actually ever see them again.

Which must have been its own form of heart-break. And yet this absence still contained hope of sorts, that they might, at some point, be re-united. And even if that was a pipe-dream, there was comfort in knowing that their children were alive and getting on with their lives.

---

The gutting thing for a parent whose child has died is that there is absolutely no chance that their child will ever appear again; we are left instead with a deep longing, an existential ache. And this, I believe, is where signs come in. They provide a bridge back to our child, they soften the ache, telling us that somewhere (and frankly it doesn’t matter where) our child still exists.

To create the photo for this post I used Your Name in Landsat (you can click on the link if you’d like to make one for your own child.) Romey MacDonald, a mother who writes so beautifully on here about losing her daughter Lyra, introduced me to this tool when she sent a photo of the three letters of Dom’s name, for his anniversary last week. She accompanied it with a most gorgeous message and with her permission I’d like to end this post by quoting it.

Her words were: Beautiful Dom, the rivers and mountains and the seas and the earth say your name and so do I. It was the best possible gift. Because it helps me to believe that, although I don’t get to see my darling boy any more, he’s still out there, somewhere, in this world.

And I’m learning to settle for that.

---

My aim in all my writing is to share my journey in ways which help other parents navigating child loss feel less alone. Posts are free…but if you wish to show support, I always appreciate new subscribers and any sharing of my work. The buttons are below, thank you.

Stories from other bereaved parents can be found in Tears, Tools and Treasure. And if you would like to share your own story here, you are warmly welcomed to DM me.