I often write about how different each mother grieves on the journey after the loss of a child. A few months ago I had been sitting with one of my oldest friends and we were discussing the loss of our daughters. Amanda, Mandy to me, lost her child when she was less than a year old in a freak auto accident. This was years ago, in linear time, but just like yesterday for her. While we were talking about different aspects of child loss visiting our child’s final resting place came up. She shared her truth with me and she has courageously agreed to share it with you, today.
I hope you, the reader, can take in her words without any judgement. Being open and willing to share some of the deeper aspects of our grief is very difficult and leaves us vulnerable. I am not anticipating any negative remarks from anyone I know . . . but if I read any, I will deal with it immediately.
I am sharing her writing today because it is Memorial Day. A day set aside for remembering those who died in active military duty, it’s become one in which we remember all of our loved ones who have passed. This is evident by the flowers, flags, and visitors who can be seen in nearly every cemetery. What follows is Amanda’s story about visiting her daughter’s, Megan Leah, grave.
This journey is tough. It’s not for sissies. The truths we have to confront along our way often brings us to our knees. I know, from experience, outsiders can not understand this. I was an outsider when my friend lost her precious baby daughter. I didn’t say the right things. I wondered if she was ever going to get “back to normal”. I have apologized.
I am eleven years into living without my daughter and I am exhausted. Amanda is over thirty years in and still finds a reason to laugh, to love, and has the strength to share a tiny part of a journey that spans decades.
Thank you, Mandy. For your wisdom, bravery, and laughter.
The following is a piece of Amanda’s writing about visiting her child, Megan Leah:
Ok, here we go. With the Memorial Day holiday around the corner I find myself thinking about how many people go to the cemetery to pay respect to they’re loved ones and lay flowers down. I won’t be one of those people.
When my six month baby girl Megan Leah was killed in a car accident back in 1985 I found myself thinking about the one thing that us grieving mommy’s won’t say out loud let alone say it to someone else. My child is 6 feet underground decomposing.
The physiological changes our precious children will go through. It’s not something I want to think about but, if you’re completely honest with yourself you do think about it. How can you not?
For a few years I did go to the cemetery to lay flowers at her grave and sat down to talk to her. Then after awhile my thought “went there”. I refused to go NO MORE! My sweet, chubby baby girl was down there withering away bit by bit and I couldn’t deal.
In my faith I know Megan isn’t really there at the cemetery. She is in my heart and soul. I will always have her all around me. Some people along the way have asked when was the last time you were at the cemetery? I tell them years. They look at me like I’ve lost my mind. They’re right I have lost my mind! My baby was viciously taken away from me and I don’t want to go to the cemetery and have that vision of her decomposing in the ground that I’m looking down at.
So, whether or not you go to the cemetery to honor your child is your choice and I won’t judge you for it. But, I’ve already made mine.