When I think about death, I think of my favorite quotation about death:
"Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Call me by my old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way you always used to. Put no difference in your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me... I am but waiting for you for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well."
~ Henry Scott Holland at age 22.
I lost my beloved only child, Andy, in 2011. It was unexpected and devastating. I can only describe it as a nightmare. I became an empty shell, looking alive, but just pretending, for I was dead on the inside.
I lost all sense of self. Who was I if not Andy's Mom? It was all I ever dreamed of - being a mom. All gone. No attending his wedding, no grandchildren, no watching him take off on his own grown up life, no one to watch over me in my elderly years.
It took a few years to move beyond this grief, but at a certain point I realized I had to decided if I was going to grieve the rest of my life away, or was I going to take my pain and use it for good? I chose the latter. I decided to give my son the legacy helping others through me.
I think the biggest factors in my healing were 3 specific things:
This letter is part of the Death Letter Project - North Carolina, a means to celebrate the 150th anniversary of Historic Oakwood Cemetery in Raleigh, NC.
Credits:
Michael Palko