Sometimes, We All Need Our Faith Rewarded
The 'Cure Assumption'
Society often operates with an implicit 'cure assumption' regarding child loss. This isn't a medical or statistical cure, but rather a societal expectation that those who experience such a profound tragedy will, after a period of grief, somehow “get over it” or return to a state of normalcy. It implies a belief that the "illness" of acute grief will pass, and the individual will be "cured." By extension, society's obligation to acknowledge their ongoing pain will also be "cured."
More importantly, many grieving parents hold this assumption, particularly in the acute stages of their grief. On one level, this is a good thing, as during these periods people must have faith in human nature to deal with catastrophes. Hopefully, over time, this faith will be rewarded, and they can learn to live with their loss. The fact that many people do go on with their lives is proof of this. The question remains: what does “cured" look like and feel like?
Collective Knowledge
Infant mortality, until recently, has been the scourge of human existence. In the first quarter of this century, it has dropped by 52% for under-fives – a miracle of our modern age. A positive effect of this trend is that in richer societies, fewer parents are having to face this challenge. Broadly, the collective knowledge of these events, and the consequences for those involved, has diminished. I realise that modernity has brought some other negative issues with it that we all have to contend with. That said, I would prefer to be alive in an era in which parents can reasonably assume they will not have to bury a child.
The Implicit Societal Expectation of "Recovery"
The words we use, like 'recovery' and 'cured', are helpful as they provide analogies to physical ailments to explain difficult concepts to ourselves and others. Really, we are comparing physical damage to mental, emotional, and spiritual damage – how we think, feel, and believe about this world. I am using the word 'spiritual' in the context of a belief in something beyond what we can explain… that there is a meaning to all of this.
Sometimes these words do a disservice to the phenomena we are attempting to explain to ourselves and others. The words we are using are limited, but they are the best we've got. The assault on our psyches when we lose someone so precious in our lives cannot be cured like a disease. Ironically, this can be applied to individuals who have suffered from serious illnesses. Many people I know who are in remission from cancer often have to contend with the psychological effects long after their disease has physically disappeared.
Changes Do Occur
Certain words like 'trauma' have been battered and squeezed into so many meanings (see my article on 'Concept Creep') in recent years. Therefore, I am slightly embarrassed by using it in this article. There is a trauma involved in all life-changing events that is burnt into our psyche. Such a process will involve changes to the physical structure and responses of the brain. It is the underlying mechanism that shows that our brains are changing to perceive the world differently. This in turn suggests that evolution is requiring our brains to physically adapt to what we experience in our environment.
To be completely cured of a disease or infection, all traces of it will be removed from our bodies. Sometimes scar tissue is left. Events that affect us deeply actually change the structure and biochemical activities of our brains. We now perceive the world differently. This is not analogous to scar tissue; we now perceive reality differently. Like an adult, we cannot go back to being a child. In these scenarios, our old self is gone, and a new version is being updated to both perceive and adapt to a new reality.
This is why I think the statement, "Sooner or Later You Have to Give Up the Hope of A Better Past" is so powerful (see article 'Sooner or Later You Have to Give Up the Hope of A Better Past'). Hoping for a better past, though understandable, is not something we can take seriously and must be limited to whimsical flights of nostalgia, not a foundation for a new reality.
Am I Cured?
I do not believe I can be cured or return to an old state of self for the reasons outlined above. If we can agree that the word 'cured' in this context represents a better state of being, then I would have to say I am relatively cured. When I meet people who have recently lost a child (within two to three years), I realise I am in a much better position. I must acknowledge this. On many levels, my brain is adapting to my new reality.
A person I know who volunteers at a peer-to-peer support group told me that she wants newly bereaved parents to see that several years on, they will be in a much better position to cope with life. I believe that this lady wants to embody that a recovery is possible because it will help those in acute stages of grief.
Useful to Others
I would like this Substack to be useful to others. I would be lying if I said after a decade I do not feel despair, sadness, and a loss of meaning. I would also be lying if I did not point out to any reader of this article that I do feel much better about many aspects of my life since the early years after my son’s death. For example, I am not as agitated, I hardly ever cry, I can go many hours without thinking about his death, and I have managed to still be very close to my wife and daughter. I am very grateful for this and many other things I can now experience. There is more respite from the tragedy of his death; you no longer feel like you are drowning in every moment. I could not have written this several years ago.
There are, however, moments that are reminders that my brain is still undergoing maintenance and has quite a bit more work to do adapting to my new reality. This week on my morning run, I decided to avoid my children’s old school. I did not want to conjure up the memories of picking up my children from school. I can still be caught out by unexpected anniversaries which will mean I am not quite myself until I work out what is going on. This happened in the last month and I discussed the nature of them in my article 'Out of Left Field'.
Hopefully, a lot of the topics I have written about will be useful to others who have just started to adapt to their new reality. It does get better. Everyone I know still suffers with their loss. You are not cured of this, and you probably do not want to be. There is a darkness to your life at times that is hard to bear. You can endure most things if you have a reason to do so. You have to find meaning, something that can transcend these difficult moments. Family, friends, career, or a hobby you love can all help. Sometimes, we all need our faith in the hope of a better future to be rewarded.