My Coping Journey

Lee Ann Christ

One thing we who  have lost children are faced with daily is how will we cope and possibly go on without our child. After our son, Brian, died in 2004 at the age of 22, our lives came to a standstill. We moved in and out of activities with our two daughters, 15 and 18 at the time, and in and out of our other chores, work, life in general, in a slow motion fog. At times, people had to remind us to breathe as we were mostly taking shallow breaths and then deep,deep sighs.

Life has a way of dropping things in front of us that need immediate attention. I think God designed it that way so that we would not fall completely into oblivion after loss. So that we would learn to live again, lean on Him and honor our loved ones lives and know that they were not really our’s to begin with, but were here to profoundly touch our lives. Each had a specific purpose. And we are here for a reason too.

As more time went by, we realized we were actually enjoying ourselves–sometimes laughing at a movie, or being able to talk happily about Brian, and in a suspended moment, we felt okay.

I am blessed with physical energy and a get up and go attitude. If something needs doing, I don’t wait too long for help, I begin a task and complete it myself if possible and reluctantly employ help if I can’t. My nursing work had slowed to barely part time at the time of Brian’s death, and the years to follow left me with lots of time to myself. My husband and I had time together but we were both on separate grief journeys that would weave in and out of each other’s for some time, leaving space to be alone with the pain. With Godly counsel, work, and time, we have ended up sharing our grief. We also have long-standing friendships and close family that have offered us both much support.

But always being of an independent nature, and having been a part-time nurse and stay at home mom, working at things solo was not hard for me.  I knew how to structure my time and enjoy time alone as long as I knew together time with family and friends was not far away. That self-sufficiency, paired with a new and urgent desire to seek solace in God, pretty much staying in a constant prayer dialogue, helped reveal a gift of perseverance that has truly helped me along.

My energy and get up and go spirit was a good thing, but I had to make sure not to wear myself out. My mother, my rock throughout losing Brian and my whole life, would remind me frequently to slow down and rest. A restlessness would come over me, and I sometimes would exhaust myself with strenuous yard work or taking care of elderly relatives at the expense of my own needs. Exhaustion blurred reality. At the end of one of those days, Brian’s absence was always waiting.

But when I was purposeful and sought out solitude within a physical activity that helped me release some of the pain, it was a very healing experience. It became a time to pray and call out to the Lord. Whether digging in the dirt and weeding, tending to my flowers and taking in their beauty, visiting a local monastery’s garden, and slowing, deliberately walking the labyrinth there, I learned to slow myself and hear God’s voice and sometimes the answers to my prayers.

It would come in a soft internal impression like,  “Don’t worry, Brian’s okay.” Sometimes it would be in the form of noticing something I would have overlooked if in a flurry of activity.  Butterflies, animal behavior, patterns in nature are things that can give us insight into our own lives. And to my amazement, many signs like that came my way. Or maybe it was a person in my path who I was meant to speak to, for my benefit, but many times I would find, it was for theirs’.

Another way I dealt with the starkness of not having Brian with us was through visiting a special place we frequented as a family and with Brian up until he was 20 years old: Walt Disney World! I said I was independent, and adventurous goes along with that. At 22, I drove across the country in my stick shift, Datsun B-210 to visit a cousin in California and to see the country before embarking on a nursing career. So the love of traveling has never left me and has continued to offer me retreat and regeneration.

We continued the trek to Florida as a family after Brian died, going several times. In 2011 after my mother’s death, I was very distraught and feeling off balance. She was as I said, my rock. The idea hit me to travel there solo. My husband was okay with it, knowing that once I made up my mind there wasn’t much to dissuade me.

So down 95-S I went. A straight line of pavement we had traveled so many times before. It’s familiarity made it seem like I was headed to visit relatives. The drive was freeing and something about the motion of driving was therapeutic. I  nourished my soul listening to books on cd, singing, praying, crying. I was escaping something but going to something else.

When I arrived, I felt right at home and visiting the parks was a welcome comfort, like seeing my/our life played out in front of me. Life was everywhere. Being by myself in the crowds was not being by myself at all. In mourning my Mother’s and Brian’s deaths and feeling empty, I needed to be alone but also together with others. This was the perfect place for such an occasion. There were countless opportunities to talk with people, enjoy the atmosphere  and feel perfectly safe in doing so. I could disconnect when I wanted to and just enjoy strolling, visiting things of interest and listening to the wonderful piped in music they play everywhere. Music has been so very healing to me. What had been painful for our family in the first visits we took there after Brian died, I was now seeing as a celebration. I would see him in all the stages of his life while I watched people connecting like we had when we had been there: mothers with their children, fathers and brothers
and sisters, grandparents, friends. It all made me so thankful for what I had with Brian and my Mom. I found a piece of our past and it stayed with me everywhere I went.  I was remembering and savoring those memories and every chance I had, I encouraged others to savor those times together, offering to take photos for entire families, sharing dining tips and my expertise about the place with others, like a self-appointed tour guide. Again in doing something purposeful, I was experiencing healing on a major level.

Working in a homeless shelter, praying for people I see on the street who look like they are lost or in need, sharing Brian’s story with others, have given me a similar purposeful feeling.

So these are ways I have coped with  the emptiness, pain, and grief of the loss of my dear child.  Others may not want to be alone too much on their grief journey. Going on a trip solo may not appeal to someone else. Going slow, being aware, praying, reaching out to others, letting those memories surface, working through them, good and bad, these are some things we can do. In the end our pain is there. It always will be. God teaches us to abide in Him and to keep on going.

By Lee Ann Christ
www.brianchrist.com
9/28/15