By Neena Verma
Can you imagine a human state for which all languages are bereft of an appropriate word? Hard indeed to imagine. True nonetheless that no language has a word that can describe bereaved parenthood. There are words like orphan, widow and widower in all languages, but none whatsoever in any language for parents who outlive their child. What should bereaved parents call themselves? Even more traumatizing, what identity should a bereaved mother wear on her person?
Karla Holloway, an English Professor at Duke University, and a bereaved mother herself, felt shattered by such barrenness of language, as all bereaved parents do. She decided to honour her bereaved-motherhood, and chose the Sanskrit word vilomah to describe her tragic identity[1]. Literally speaking vilomah means opposite or ‘against the natural order’. On the surface it does not seem to bear a direct connection with the loss of a child. Contemplate deeper and you would realise that this profound loss is indeed ‘against the natural order’ of things whereby parents are not supposed to outlive their children.
Ultimate bereavement
Losing a child of any age is the most tragic and traumatic state that can befall a parent. It is not surprising that this loss is referred to as ultimate bereavement. No parent, however brave, strong or spiritually rooted, can ever come to terms with the loss of a child. Even the parents of terminally ill children can never prepare themselves for the eventuality of outliving their child, leave alone those who lose a child to sudden, untimely, unexpected or unnatural death. A child’s death by suicide, self-harm of any nature, or violence is even more traumatizing. Quite understandable then that bereaved parents’ grief rarely, if ever, finds a closure. Well, that is OK as long as there is no pathological complications in which case due professional and/or medical help should be sought or arranged.
Child loss triggers a sense of utter failure and crippling guilt in parents who feel naturally entrusted with the responsibility to protect and nurture their children. A Chinese saying suggests that ‘the grey haired should not bury the black haired’. The trauma, the pain, the anguish, the despair, the grief that a parent experiences is hard to imagine, even harder to fathom. Parents’ survivor guilt, and in particular the guilt that a parent goes through in performing their child’s final rites is something—no one can understand, not even another bereaved parent. No heart can bear this profound grief. Some will nonetheless be chosen for it.
“The ‘body’ that I had borne with love, delivered with sweet pain, nurtured with fond affection, relied on for support and strength… the body that I would now put on the pyre.”
– Neena Verma,
‘A Mother’s Cry … A Mother’s Celebration’, Page 33
Mothers, in particular, tend to feel completely swamped and stifled by this indescribable pain. Instinctively, physically and emotionally they share an entwined tactile bond with the child that starts nine months before the child’s worldly manifestation. A mother’s instinct makes her feel responsible (way beyond normal connotations of the word) for the protection and nurturance of her child(ren) whatever be the their age or stage in life. Be it a foetal death, a still-birth, death of an infant, a growing kid or an adult – a mother feels plunged into the darkest abyss of grief and guilt. “How can I be… And you not” laments poet and bereaved mother Mary Jo Bang as she is rendered blank forever with her child having become “a box of ashes”.
In my work as a grief, post-traumatic growth and resilience specialist, I have worked with women who have had miscarriages, and loss of a child from as young as a two weeks infant to someone as old as fifty nine years about to retire aging adult. In most, if not all cases, I have observed that a significant number of bereaved mothers’ grief remains raw, acute, intrusive, even complex for a long time. Something that the American Psychiatric Association’s text revision DSM-5 would call prolonged grief disorder[2]. Both as a grief specialist and a bereaved mother myself who knows and understands grief in her lived experience, I find such classification of grief as a mental disorder insensitive, unfair, unwise, unkind, grossly unhelpful, and rather damaging in its repercussions. Grieving parents, even mothers, can and do find a way to eventually affirm and integrate their grief and adapt to their post-loss reality. It takes time of-course. More than that it takes faith, and deep existential ability to forgive and allow love to abide.
You can help
In this difficult grief journey, compassionate support from others can be of immense help. Unfortunately, in most cases, bereaved parents don’t easily find it. Initially there is an out-pouring of condolences and sympathy from social mourners. But even the most well-intentioned people find it hard to stay put, what with the very presence of a grief-struck parent consciously or unconsciously haunting others with a parent’s worst nightmare.
In general, we are neither socially trained nor personally attuned to be around a person in grief. The reality though is that loss and grief will some day come knocking at every door. It therefore makes wise sense for us to develop some bit of grief literacy, particularly so if we are to extend support to a grieving parent. It is indeed a complex responsibility, there are a few basics though that we all can be mindful.
Please know that when you don’t know what to say, it is better not to say anything at all. Sometimes a well-meant, compassionate silence helps much more deeply, than meaningless social buzz that may end up causing more emotional injury than extend any help. Please avoid cliches and platitudes like “time heals all wounds”, “it is God’s will”, “she/he is in a better place”, “God recalls early those He loves”, “she/he is more needed in heaven than on earth”. Please also avoid sermons like “be strong”, “be brave”, “let go”, “move on”. Most of all, please be sure to avoid statements like “atleast you have more child(ren)”. Your intention may be good. But try putting yourself (God forbid) in the bereaved parents’ position, and imagine the piercing pain such cliches, platitudes and sermons trigger.
These are only few representative examples that I sharing here. Social mourners sometimes tend to say painfully insensitive things that not just cause unbearable emotional injury but also tend to cause the grieving parents to withdraw and isolate themselves in silence. Be mindful of what you say and how. and when you are clueless, please maintain noble silence. You can of-course help with practical support by way of helping with funeral arrangement, organizing a meal, checking on their physical condition and health, and continuing to drop by for quiet compassionate support. But please do it all in a noise-less, sensitive and respectful way, sans undue curiosity and questions especially in case of unnatural loss. Supporting a grieving parent can be a long emotionally exhausting journey for you as much. Be present and available if you really want to and mean to support, not because you ought to or as a limited social courtesy.
Affirm Bereaved Mothers’ grief
Most of us know about international mothers’ day that is celebrated on second Sunday of May. But hardly anyone seems to know about the international bereaved mothers’ day that is observed a week before on the first Sunday of May to honour the unrecognised but acutely painful grief of the bereaved mothers. Generally speaking, bereaved parents don’t easily find compassionate support. But things tend to get even harder for grieving mothers who often have to hide their pain beneath the stoic mask they wear to fulfil their everyday womanly responsibilities. Offer them space to let their cry of grief a voice, as griever and poet Sara Rian advises –
“every mother
who has lost a child
is living that nightmare.
the one you tell her
that you can’t imagine living.
she is beyond imagining…
stop telling her she is strong.
hold out your arms
and let her collapse.”
– Sara Rian
Remember there is nothing to fix, deal with or manage on the parental grief journey. It is indeed a traumatizing question—how do parents crushed under the weight of ultimate bereavement cope with their ravaging grief? I am sorry. I have no specific answer that will surely and adequately help you. However I can share in brief what my grief expertise and personal journey have taught me. Well, brutal as it is, we nonetheless learn to make space for what has come to live with us. What we dread coping with, we learn to affirm, and live with it. We learn to pick the piercing shards of our grief, and heal our shattered self. What has taken away all our strength, we learn to face it with faith. What has torn our heart, we learn to allow it a warm corner in the very same broken heart. We learn to find meaning in our mourning.
Reach out for help, even professional help, when you need it. Of-course be mindful of who you can trust for compassionate companioning, therapy or counselling. Receive with grace and gratitude whatever genuine and wise help comes your way. Forgive those who unwittingly and unknowingly cause you pain by their hurtful words or ways. And distance yourself from those who seem to be more interested in wilful gossipy conversations. As unkind and cruel as it is, unfortunately our world has this kind of people too. Please fold back from them.
Re-member the Bond
The worst fear of a bereaved parent is that their child’s name would be forgotten, that the child would be forgotten. But you can keep their presence alive. Find a way to re-member your child’s presence—in a legacy mission, in a remembrance project—as a tiny daily practice, or a commemorative special ritual or event. On special days such as your child’s birthday, their favourite festival or holiday, even on the day of their demise – invoke their presence in your thoughts and activities. Cook their favourite meal. Invite in their friends, your friends. Talk about them – relive their joyful moments and memories.
Remember the body dies, not the relationship or the bond. Even after the completion of their mortal journey, our loved ones continue to live in your heart and consciousness. Children even more so. Re-awaken their presence in your heart. Re-member your bond. Let the unfillable void of your grief come alive with the fragrance of your love, for only love can heal grief.
About Neena Verma
Neena is a leadership, resilience, grief & post-traumatic growth specialist. A prize-winning alumna of Delhi University, and an author of two well-received books, Neena is a regular invited speaker on literary, academic & professional fora. Reach her at – growwithneena@gmail.com
