Friday, October 21, 2011

We exist. They existed. Please, see us.



Dear World,

We are men and we are women and we are gender-free...

We are Democrat, Republic, Libertarian, Independent, Green, Apolitical, and ...

We are rich, and poor, and middle class, and classless.

We are Christian, and Jewish, and Muslim, and Buddhist, and Sikh, and Hindu, and Wiccan, and Atheist, and ...

We are employed, and unemployed, and partially employed, and recklessly employed.

We are Irish, and Native American, and African, and French, and Haitian, and Romanian, and British, and Tibetan, and Italian, and Mexican, and Germanic, and Norwegian, and Jamaican, and ...

We are high school dropouts, we are college educated, and we are streetwise...

We speak one language or many languages, and we are from all parts of our Planet Earth.

We are young, and middle aged, and old, even facing our own death.

We are from the north, the south, the east, and the west.

We are a family of one, and two, and three, and ten...

We are both traditional and non-traditional families.

We are engineers, and janitors, and doctors, and teachers, and firefighters, and lawyers, and athletes, and marketers, and taxi drivers, and pastors, and rabbis, and elected officials, and administrators, and nurses, and maids, and childcare providers, and artists, and poets, and landscapers and...

We are tall, short, and medium, and emaciated and healthy and round and obese.

We are all around you, everyday. Everywhere you go, we are there, but you may not see us.

We are bereaved parents....

We have suffered life's worst tragedy. We have suffered a reality you dare not imagine.

Our children have died from birth to toddlerhood. From toddlerhood to young childhood. From young childhood to the teens. From the teens to young adulthood. From young adulthood into middle and late adulthood. Our loss is anachronistic, out of time, out of place. Our children died from cancer, and stillbirth, and fires, and car crashes, and SIDS, and murder, and suicide, and drug overdose, and drowning, and disease, and premature birth, and wars, and natural disasters, and congenital anomalies and...

Despite all the differences in who we used to be...

Now, we are bereaved parents. And siblings. And grandparents. And aunts, uncles, godparents, friends. And our lives will never, ever, ever be the same. This common thread is woven through our lives, and will remain part of our painful tapestry from generation to generation.

You can help us.

Please visit the front page of the Arizona Republic to learn more about federal legislation for all bereaved parents.

Then, please, support us by signing this petition and emailing your Congress women and men and asking them to sign on to and support this important legislation.


We are bereaved parents. We are one, despite our differences. Our grief unites us.





5 comments:

Carol's Creations said...

Well said! Thank you so much for being the voice that so many have needed and will need in the future! I am blessed to know you and your precious angel Cheyenne!

Jennneil said...

Thank you for this beautiful post. I have lost many people but, thank God, not a child. But I am a therapist who works with many with grief issues. This is beautiful and powerful.

Beth said...

Please remember that one of the ways to loose one's child is through war. A fine young man (a teenager who should be home eating his mom's cooking in any other world) I know was killed in Afghanistan last week by an IED - by dying he earned his second Purple Heart and his second Bronze Star. His parent's, brother, and sisters are devastated. I have given his mom your information.

onewomansperspective02 said...

Great post!! The year our son died, I remember going to a 4th of July fireworks display with some people we know. One of the daughters and her friend walked by, and the mother said, "Ryan, you remember the Carney's, don't you?" It was absolutely startling to be right in front of someone and yet be totally invisible. He didn't acknowledge us at all; he sort of looked right through us.

We ARE NOT invisible! We matter! Our kids mattered!

Great post!

Joyful Noise for a Joyful Life said...

So real our new reality. Our son committed suicide a year and a half ago. Blogging has been a tool for me to navigate through my grief.
My family owns a cabin in Oak Creek Canyon near the Dairy Queen where my son grew up in the summers, swimming, fishing and just hanging out with families. Those memories are so appreciated now.

Thanks for bringing us all together in our oneness.

Becoming...

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
The soul still sings in the darkness telling of the beauty she found there; and daring us not to think that because she passed through such tortures of anguish, doubt, dread, and horror, as has been said, she ran any the more danger of being lost in the night. Nay, in the darkness did she, rather, find herself.

--St. John, Dark Night of the Soul


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