In June of 2007 my daughter, Kelly, was killed in a single car accident. She was only 21. My new normal is a very isolated place; primarily because most people can not identify with the horror of losing a child. Friends and acquaintances seem to pull away because, maybe, they feel uncomfortable. I find great comfort in being with other grieving parents. We seem to recognize that we are now from 'another place', it is surreal. What I miss, what I long for, is a conversation about Kelly. Her name is rarely spoken.
The loss of a child includes all the hopes and dreams you held for their future and those related conversations. I wish friends of mine and friends of hers would just occasionally drop me a line saying, 'I remember/love/miss this or that about Kelly'. As a grieving parent you shudder to think your deceased child is being forgotten. It's as if the collective memory of all who knew her creates a living memorial. I am not certain all grieving parents want to hear their deceased child's name; I am certain most do.
”What gets you is the knowledge and it sometimes can fall on you in a clap that the dead are gone absolutely from this world. As has been said around here over and over again, you're not going to see them here anymore ever. Whatever was done or said before is done or said for good. Any questions you think of that you ought to have asked while you had a chance are never going to be answered. The dead know and you don't." (Wendell Berry)