Navigating Conversations After Child Loss

Learning how to navigate conversations has been a challenge.  I found myself in a dinner situation recently with people I had just met.    Inevitably, the conversation always turns to “how many kids do you have?”.  I try to reply with “two boys”, but that often leads to follow up questions about their ages and what they are doing. 

I then have to launch into how I have a younger son, two stepchildren and an older son that passed away last year.   Queue the head tilts, sad eyes and uncomfortable body language.   I then have to quickly find a way to turn the conversation to end the awkward silence as I find people often struggle with what to say next.  And that’s okay. I was that person once too.  

Although, please don’t ever be like the guy that told me he was very sorry for my loss and how he could relate because he had recently lost his dog.  Seriously?  I love my dog, but I’m afraid it’s not in any way the same.  I’d rather someone not say anything at all than say something like that.   

I’ve read other stories where people have told grieving moms that “it’s time to get over it” or it’s “time to move on”.   Even before losing Connor, I couldn’t imagine saying that to someone – ever.   I often talk about Connor as if he were still here.  I will share stories and participate in conversations where I can give relevant examples of things he did or said.  I do that to make sure he is never forgotten.  To make sure he continues to be part of my life. To make sure people know he existed. 

I don’t, however, do it to make others uncomfortable.  Those that know me have become comfortable talking about Connor too.  I want that.  PLEASE talk about him!  Even if you think it’s hard for me, I WANT to hear his name. I WANT to know you remember him.  I WANT you to ask me questions about him. I WANT him to still be present. 

What happened to Connor changed everything.  It changed who I am. I no longer look at the world the same way.  I carry a sorrow that no parent should ever have to carry.  And I feel the weight of that when those moms at dinner talked about their kids graduating college and getting married.  I will never have that with Connor.   I’m not upset with them for sharing their good fortune.  They don’t know my sorrow and I pray they never will.  I have to be happy for them.  And I absolutely am.  But it still hurts.  ∞