Wish List

I saw this on a fellow bereaved parents blog and it's so brutally honest and spot on, I had to share it.  It's hard for anyone who hasn't lost a child to understand how I feel.  To know what to do, what to say, how much to do, or how little.  Half the time I don't know what I want or need from anyone, so I don't expect you to.  I like this list because it's a good reminder that you don't need to know what to do, you just need to be there.  For my friends that struggle with this, maybe it will help.  To those who are always there, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.


A Bereaved Parent's Wish List

I wish my child hadn't died. I wish I had him back.

I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak his name. He lived and was very important to me. I need to hear he was important to you also.

If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. His death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.

I wish you wouldn't "kill" my child again by removing his pictures, artwork, or other remembrances from your home.

Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you now more than ever.

I need diversions so I do want to hear about you: but, I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about him, my favorite topic of the day.

I know that you think and pray for me often. I also know that his death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know these things with a phone call, a card or note, or a real big hug.

I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. The first months are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child til the day I die.

I am working very hard on my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always love and miss him, and I will always grieve that he is gone.

I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy." Neither will happen for a very long time.

I don't want a "pity party", but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.

I wish you would understand how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I am miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.

When I say, "I'm doing okay," I wish you could understand that I don't feel okay and I struggle daily.

I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having is completely normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.

Your advice to "take it one day at a time" is excellent advice. However, a day is sometimes too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.

Please excuse me if I seem rude; it is certainly not my intent.

I wish you understood that grief changes people. When he died, a huge part of me died with him. I am not the same person I was before he died, and I will never be that person again.

I wish very much that you could understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain. BUT I pray daily that you will never have to understand.