We had a son named Bennett. ...We are now part of the club no parent wants to be a part of. I cannot begin to describe what it’s like to witness losing your child. You can’t imagine the hole that it opens in your heart that only time can mend or the questions that you will never have answered, like why did this happen?
In 2009, I witnessed the accidental death by drowning of my partner, Matt. He was strong, fit, healthy – three months from his 40th birthday. It was a beautiful and ordinary morning: the first sunny day after three solid weeks of rain. An absolutely normal day, until it was not, and would not ever be again.
I was a single mom for 19 years, all of my adult life. It defined who I was and the choices I made. I put myself through college starting at a community college, through grad school, finally getting a Ph.D., while raising a thoughtful, considerate, creative, funny, and intelligent son. Then 3 days after my graduation, and 7 days after his 19th birthday, my son killed himself.
The shifts in friendships and relationships are extreme. The negative ones go all the way to a feeling of being shunned....I like to think that all bereaved parents are a symbol of love, which is expressed in their deep and long -- often lifelong -- grief.
Gail Box lives every day with grief, guilt and loss. However, she has utilized her personal tragedy to openly discuss the national prescription drug overdose problem and lift the veil of shame associated with such addiction.
I know many people who have been brought back from the brink of death to tell about their drug overdoses, people who then go on to lead meaningful, productive lives. Their stories, at one time horrific, end happily. They illustrate the ability of human beings to change — and the life-saving, potentially life-changing power of a simple prescription medication known as naloxone. Then there are the tragedies, like the stories of my brothers, my only siblings.
By all accounts, Linnea Lomax entered college a strong, athletic, ambitious young woman -- which is why it was so shocking to her parents as they watched her grow anxious, obsessive and suffer a breakdown toward the end of her freshman year.
My daughter, Camila, died of acute leukemia when she was 23 years old. There were 10 months between diagnosis and her death. I came to The Compassionate Friends to be among others who had suffered the loss of a child and to find, within that circle, a way to survive.
Our eldest daughter, Abigail, died aged 12, on 10th February 2013, following a sudden brain haemorrhage at home on 6th February. My mind and body have been churned up inside ever since with so many emotions, thoughts and feelings. I went to the doctor in the early days, not knowing what to do about this and she simply said ‘write about it’, so I started this blog.