Will I Ever Be Happy Again?

My sister told me about a mother that recently lost her son and who was desperate to know that she would be happy some day. I thought about what I would tell her of my experience so far....

Like her, my fear was that I would never be happy again. I was anxious to talk to people who had been through it and had come out on the other side. Most often, those people told me I would never get over it and that I would just learn to live with it. Although there are hours and days when I would agree with them because the pain then seems just as wide and deep as it ever was, in between those times I feel pretty normal. I still cry unpredictably every day, but it doesn't ruin my day or change its course. And, there's something more about grief. My grief about Elle's new state on my best days can only be described as sweet and tender and sacred.

I would tell her that grief is a roller coaster of emotions. Numbness and fog and denial in varying degrees for the first several months, at least as I experienced it. And a lot of going through the motions and recognizing your mental function and abilities are compromised.



Then there are awakenings to the irreversible reality that your child is not coming back as long as you live. There are tidal waves of grief that crash down on the deepest parts of your mind and soul. And then those waves recede. Often, I have felt Heavenly Father very near and anxious to bless and comfort me. I've felt Him grieving with me and for me. At other times, I have gotten glimpses of perspective. I've felt strength like I never knew before and a powerful "knowing" that all is well, that I will see Elle again, and that she is near even now.

I am very grateful that so far (21 months) I haven't experienced prolonged depression or a lot of anger, which I think is fairly common is these situations. I've been keeping an eye out for depression, especially watching for effects on my self-esteem, which would indicate bigger trouble. If I had depression, I was ready to get help and medication. I've seen depression in myself and others and feel like it is foolishness to not do whatever it takes to address the problem.

I would tell her some things that have helped me: I committed early on to support myself physically and spiritually, no matter what. I've exercised three times a week and made sure I got enough sleep. Grief is exhausting, and sometimes in the hardest times that meant sleeping more than eight or nine hours. I had been in the habit of attending the temple weekly for years before Elle died, and I made sure I kept this up. I've listened to the scriptures pretty much daily and prayed throughout the day, telling Heavenly Father whatever I was thinking and feeling and asking for continued strength and comfort. If you ask me, that spiritual preparation before Elle's accident and commitment since is the main reason I would say I've been able to grieve in a healthy way so far. I'm not saying that going to the temple and exercising will prevent things like anger and depression—I count myself very fortunate to have escaped those experiences so far—but, I think it has given me the very best chance to be mentally healthy.

I would tell her to be patient with her grief, taking it one day at a time, and to let herself feel it and work through it. I spent a lot of time putting together a photo/journal book all about Elle, which allowed me time to focus on her and get some kind of closure instead of lugging around unfinished emotional business for years and years to come. It was also important to me to feel like I had a record of her life to preserve the memories and introduce her to future sons- and daughters-in-law and grandkids.

On better days, I've tried to be open with people and not treat Elle's death as a taboo subject. That has allowed me to hear about others' struggles and not feel alone. I've been able to gain perspective and feel supported and loved, because people seem to want opportunities to show you they care.

I've done whatever I could to help our other kids. Even though we have encouraged our kids to tell us how they are feeling, they worry they will add to our grief and are careful not to. It’s a challenge to even know how to support each of our kids because they are all at different stages of development and grief. My own grief has been overwhelming at times and clouded my thinking for several months after Elle’s death, so we found a grief support center designed for kids and teens, the Bradley Center. Because of the Bradley Center, I feel like I did something right and critically important for our kids in their time of need. I didn't have to add "failing as a mother" to my grief.

I would tell her one more thing. Guilt, in my opinion, is inappropriate. You know you would never purposely put your child in harm's way and that you would move heaven and earth to save his or her life. It's all about intention. But you will feel guilt, no doubt about it. It's just part of grief. But don't believe the guilt. And go through the motions, at least, of talking yourself out of it and thinking realistically, so you carve that pathway in your brain. I've required that of myself.

To answer the question "Will I ever be happy again?"— I would tell her about the one couple who gave me hope. They had lost their 2-year-old daughter when she drowned in their hot tub over 25 years ago. The mother said, "For the first two years I cried every day, but don't ever let people tell you that you won't get over it. We have had a happy life. When I think about Angie, I smile and remember her with joy. It's sweet to me. We've had a perfect life—perfect for us."