During breakfast with a friend this morning we were comparing
notes on losses we have experienced in our families. We both commented on specific photos and
other representations we have in our homes related to these losses. For us, having Daniel’s photos, shots of him
with his siblings and others, and the prominent piece of art depicting our
three kids dancing on a rock in Moab are all natural and incredibly important
elements of our ongoing experience of life as a family. Somehow having his face visible and even prominent
in our home keeps enables him to remain a presence of sorts in our lives and is
a constant reminder that he is gone and yet in some very real ways, still ever
present in our hearts.
My friend and I agreed that these photos and many other
artifacts of loss that we carry are indeed a kind of badge – something that
visibly identifies our former lives with intact families and those who are
missing.
This also fits with my longer term sense that I am changed
permanently and somehow that change should be visible to others. It often feels to me like my status as a
parent who lost a child should be obvious to everyone who meets me since it is
such a significant element of how I now perceive and define myself.
When Carol and I decided to get tattoos featuring Daniel I
remember her comment that she was simply making permanent and visible the mark
that already was made on her.
In some important respect, I too want people to notice my
badge – the shift in my reality and the loss behind that shift. I want people to understand how huge this is
in our lives, not so that I evoke their sympathy, but so that they somehow
realize something about whom Daniel was and what it means to lose a son.
No comments:
Post a Comment