This letter was included in a hospital packet for parents experiencing a loss. I wish we had received something like this (in addition to the traditional "grief" literature):
Dear Mommy and Daddy,
I know this is a rough time for you so I will be as gentle as I can be. First of all, thank you for so many tears, particularly those shared with another that you love. They are a gift to me, a precious tribute to your investment in us. As you do your mourning, do it at your pace only. Don't let anybody suggest that you do your grief work at someone else's timetable.
Do whatever it takes to face directly the reality of what has happened, even though you may need to pause frequently and yearn for my return. Do this with courage and my blessings. Know that sometimes inertia is the only movement possible. Give your best to keeping a balance between remembering me and renewing your commitments to life.
It's okay with me if you go through minutes, hours and even days not thinking of me. I know that you'll never forget. Losing me and grabbing hold of a new meaning in your life is a delicate art. I'm not sure if one comes before the other or not, maybe it's a combination.
Be with people who accept you as you are. Mention my name out loud and if they don't make hasty retreat, they're probably excellent candidates for friendship.
If, by a remote possiblilty, you think that there is anything you could have done for me and didn't, I forgive you. Resentment does not abide here, only love.
You know how people sometimes ask you how many children you have? Well, I am still yours and you are still my mother. Always acknowledge that with tenderness, unless to do so would fall on insensitive ears or would be painful to you.
I know how you feel inside. Read, even though your tears anoint the pages. In Henri Nowens' book "Out of Solitude" he writes, "the friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair and confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares."
I want you to know that I am okay and that I have sent you messages to ease your pain. They come in the form of flowers that bloom out of season, birds singing, voices and visions and sometimes through your friends and even strangers who volunteer as angels.
Stay open but don't expect the overly dramatic. You will get what you need and it may be simple as an internal feeling of peace. You are not crazy, you have been comforted.
Please seek out people bereaved longer than you. They are tellers of truth, and if they have done their grief work, they are an inspiration and a beacon of hope for you.
There are still funny things happening in our world. It delights me to no end to hear your spontaneous laughter.
Mommy and Daddy, I will always be in your heart. Today I will light a candle for you. When you light your candle for me their light will shine above the darkness.
Love,
Your Baby
Author unknown
I know this is a rough time for you so I will be as gentle as I can be. First of all, thank you for so many tears, particularly those shared with another that you love. They are a gift to me, a precious tribute to your investment in us. As you do your mourning, do it at your pace only. Don't let anybody suggest that you do your grief work at someone else's timetable.
Do whatever it takes to face directly the reality of what has happened, even though you may need to pause frequently and yearn for my return. Do this with courage and my blessings. Know that sometimes inertia is the only movement possible. Give your best to keeping a balance between remembering me and renewing your commitments to life.
It's okay with me if you go through minutes, hours and even days not thinking of me. I know that you'll never forget. Losing me and grabbing hold of a new meaning in your life is a delicate art. I'm not sure if one comes before the other or not, maybe it's a combination.
Be with people who accept you as you are. Mention my name out loud and if they don't make hasty retreat, they're probably excellent candidates for friendship.
If, by a remote possiblilty, you think that there is anything you could have done for me and didn't, I forgive you. Resentment does not abide here, only love.
You know how people sometimes ask you how many children you have? Well, I am still yours and you are still my mother. Always acknowledge that with tenderness, unless to do so would fall on insensitive ears or would be painful to you.
I know how you feel inside. Read, even though your tears anoint the pages. In Henri Nowens' book "Out of Solitude" he writes, "the friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair and confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares."
I want you to know that I am okay and that I have sent you messages to ease your pain. They come in the form of flowers that bloom out of season, birds singing, voices and visions and sometimes through your friends and even strangers who volunteer as angels.
Stay open but don't expect the overly dramatic. You will get what you need and it may be simple as an internal feeling of peace. You are not crazy, you have been comforted.
Please seek out people bereaved longer than you. They are tellers of truth, and if they have done their grief work, they are an inspiration and a beacon of hope for you.
There are still funny things happening in our world. It delights me to no end to hear your spontaneous laughter.
Mommy and Daddy, I will always be in your heart. Today I will light a candle for you. When you light your candle for me their light will shine above the darkness.
Love,
Your Baby
Author unknown