To whom this may concern;

This is a letter to the child who has lost a parent. I hope this letter does not concern you, but if it tragically does-welcome. Unfortunately, you are reading this the fact of you losing a parent is too much bear on its own. If that is you, you can stop reading.

For the rest of us, let’s take a deep breath. I’m not writing this out of some history of experience is in this area of great loss. I’m new to this experience, still a rookie. However, I feel it necessary to explain all I can about this loss. Why? To gain pity? No. Empathy? Also no. None of those things will bring back my mom. It’s for healing. Will healing bring back my mom? Also-no.

People don’t understand our loss. Our pain. Even as I write- each loss of a parent is different. There are details in each story that weave pain in our hearts like a huge quilting needle or even a tent peg. You feel like a small child again. Lost. You can become lost about your loss. A drift in a huge raging ocean where there is no rest. You try your hardest to swim to shore, and there is no shore.

Perhaps, some of you are still avoiding it like it never happened. You still wait for them to call or come home. They never come. Still there is a small glimmer of hope and avoidance in all of us.

Some of you are angry. You’ve pushed people away because you are so mad. Your feelings are valid. It feels like there was a fire in your stomach that quickly rises to the top of your head, and you want to scream, yell, or punch something. Through your anger you find there is no point because your parent is still not back. Even after you begged God to bring them back.

Every celebration, milestone or bad day your parent is not there. You can’t stop thinking about them. No one asks. Few know what to do. Others refuse to accept that this will ever happen to them. Ignorance is bliss.

There are so many more feelings and situations I can go on to describe. Like the time you go out in public, and you see everyone with their parent, and you realize that will never be you. There are times you hear their name, and you look hoping to find them. Even those moments when you see someone who looks like them. You carry the loss with you everywhere.

The confusion when the loss is raw. You forget to eat, sleep, take care of yourself. Your brain fogged and memory skewed. Numbness takes over and you try to get through the hour.

I’m not here to say I understand. I’m just here.

Time does not heal all wounds. You just become more comfortable with becoming uncomfortable. You know joy, pain, anger, and deep hurt. They are your companions. It is to be truly human to know all these emotions. So, I write this not to stir up pain. I know it’s already there. I am writing this to say you are not alone. Even though each loss is different we can all say there is understanding in our pain. We were all children without a parent. They are gone. A different kind of hurt.

It is almost like being a part of a club you never wanted to be in. Moving into a house that you didn’t know had HOA fees, but you still must pay them. That is us. The lost children. Children who have lost. Together we can cope and grieve. Together we have hope.

Tragically,

Marianna.