A Gathering of Shining Lights

The Uber driver asked why I was in Phoenix.

“I'm attending a conference.”

“Oh. What kind of conference?”

I hesitated. Do I lie and say it’s for something like freelance writers? A much easier topic to mention. Or maybe a pet expo? Or do I tell the truth?

I told the truth.

“Well…it’s for Helping Parents Heal, a support organization for parents whose child has passed away.”

Silence.

Well if that isn’t a conversation killer, I don’t know what is. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

What else could he have said? It is, without a doubt, an uncomfortable situation.

“Thank you," I replied.

Continued awkward silence. Now what do we talk about?

I’ve gotten good at changing the subject real fast.

But let’s dive in.

Child loss. In our society most people would rather not talk about it, often try to hide it, and become very uncomfortable with it. I know because before I became a member of the club nobody wants to belong to, I also tried to think about this horrific event as little as possible. But here in Phoenix I spent an entire weekend with a group of parents who have decided to do something proactive with their experiences.

What does one do when he or she has lost a child? It feels totally unnatural, and certainly out of order.

This is what you do; you gather as a community, you come together to hold each other up and talk about your pain, something most other people in our lives would rather not discuss. You look into the faces of these mothers and fathers who held their children and loved them fiercely for as many years as they were given in this earthly realm. You listen to their stories and you say their child’s name. Out loud. These parents just want their child remembered and not forgotten. They existed. And in the remembering is the acknowledgement that the love we have for our child is still alive. That love will never go away, no matter how much time has passed. That love is eternal.

Why in God’s name would anyone attend or even put together an entire conference about the passing away of a child? Most people who have not attended this kind of event, who, fortunately, have never needed to, will most likely picture a group of sad people walking around crying. People in despair, people who are hopeless.

But I assure you this gathering organized by the wonderful organization, Helping Parents Heal, was anything but that. This was a loving group of 900+ people who had been through the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a parent—outliving their child. And for some, they have outlived 2 or even 3 of their children. They have been through the visceral wails, the anger, the disbelief, the anguish, and they have picked themselves up and come from near and far, from other states and even other countries, so they could come together to support each other and heal, even if they had no idea what that could possibly look like. 

For some their child (or children) had only transitioned in the last few months, for others it’s been a few years or much longer. But all were there to receive the love and support of a community whose members completely understood how it feels to lose a child’s physical presence and had no qualms about having these conversations. There were no awkward silences, no discomfort in telling the story of one’s child, how they lived, how they died, and how their spiritual presence is still felt.

A sad event? Not really. Sure, there were tears. Necessary tears. Tears that are held back in day-to-day life so as not to make other people uncomfortable. But mostly there were smiles and even laughter. And at times, a lot of laughter. There was a palpable joy in knowing that there was a way to still live this life and carry hope right alongside the grief. And in knowing our children in spirit are still right here with us.

This was a group of regular people, walking around with badges attached to lanyards around their necks bearing not only their own names, but the names of their children as well. These were folks attending presentations, discussing the presenters during meals, sharing stories about their children, and purchasing books and lattes, angel necklaces and crystals, and beautiful spirit inspired artwork. 

There’s no “getting over” the loss of a child. But if we are still here, then it’s for a reason. And if that reason is to hold out a hand to help up another parent who is drowning in a sea of grief, then so be it. And if that reason is to honor our children with words and acts of kindness, then somehow, we can turn our pain into purpose. We can shine a light in the darkness, which is why Helping Parents Heal refers to its members as Shining Light Parents.

The second night I was there, I stepped outside of the hotel to enjoy the setting sun. Any clouds always make this view just a bit more magnificent. 

What I saw in the sky gave me pause. There, above me and stretching out to the horizon, was a beautiful blanket of clouds illuminated by the setting sun. Yet there appeared to have been a slice taken out of the clouds, exhibiting two lines that meet at a vanishing point, giving the appearance of a road of blue sky. I had never seen anything like this. As I stood there gazing at the amazing sight, and experiencing the awe and wonder it offered, it felt as if this was a highway to Heaven. Or maybe...it was a highway from Heaven...and all our children were coming to join us as we honored them.

If you know of someone whose child (or any loved one) has passed away, the kindest thing you can do is reach out to express your sadness, and offer your condolences, even if it’s uncomfortable. Acknowledge the loss. Then please don’t proceed to forget about him/her. As time goes by, mention the child’s name along with a memory when appropriate, especially if the parent brings it up first.  I can't tell you how grateful I am when someone tells me something about my son, Eric, that they remember. It keeps him alive. It keeps him with us. His energy can be felt.

I would love for us to make some shifts in how we view death. I would love for this conversation in our society to open up and become less stigmatized. Death is part of life, and we are here to support each other through it all. Let’s step in the direction of being willing to talk just a little bit more about death, physical death, and about continued connections. Then, let’s talk about how they lived.

(Read more about my journey from grief to hope in my books Look Around and A Bird Called Wisdom.)