“From every wound there is a scar. And every scar tells a story. A story that says: “I survived.” (Br. Craig Scott)
“Time heals all wounds.” If you’re a mourner, you’ve no doubt heard this cliché more than once. As a grieving parent, I can attest to the fact that some wounds never fully heal. They leave a scar, a forever reminder of the pain once experienced. But during the time that the scar forms, we are given many opportunities to avoid prolonged suffering.
After the death of our son at the age of 21, my husband and I felt undeniable and raw grief. Like others, we chose to suffer because it seemed to place some value on the incredible pain of grief we felt. Pain and suffering cannot be hidden, and the pain that comes from grief sometimes hurts much more and lasts longer than anticipated.
It’s easy to get sucked into one’s grievance, and even get caught up in the aftermath of the event that caused us pain. We are humans. We want others to know that we suffer. And sometimes we are determined not to “let go.” We obsess over the unfairness of life and draw others into our misery. Such negative energy consumes us and weakens us physically, mentally and spiritually, but we choose it anyway. Soon friends and family drift away because our state of confusion becomes overwhelming for them. They feel powerless to comfort us. They admit that no matter what they do, we are unreachable. They propose that “time” could heal our festering wounds.
Personally, I believe that time does not heal all wounds. Time just passes us by. The time becomes one year, five years, ten years and more. Time passes and our lives continue day after day. Pain quickly turns to suffering when we allow our loss to rule our lives. Suffering is prolonged pain that we choose instead of healing and reinvesting in life. We forget the measure of time.
However, what time does give us is the distance from the initial pain. This allows us to process our thoughts and offers us an option to heal. We begin to realize that existing in a life with nothing is totally exhausting. We observe others living life around us; and secretly we want to be like them.
What I know to be true is that intense pain changes, if we allow ourselves to find our place in the world that still exists. Time softens the hardness of those wounds, like an incision after surgery. With proper care, the incision begins to heal. The scar loses its sensitivity, and through the natural healing process, the painful memory softens.
The signs of reinvesting in life
Although the grieving process is complex, we can find simple signs that we instinctively want to heal from our pain. These signs simply say, “It’s time to let go and move on.” Some of the cues we experienced included the following: We began to tell the stories of Chad’s life, often with a giggle and a smile. We began to attend social and family functions recognizing the benefit of having caring people who help us face a changed world. We connected with God in new ways that were personal and satisfying and let go of our anger. We looked for ways to make sure Chad’s life mattered.
A very positive sign of reinvesting in life is the search for meaning. This is a discovery process that makes one wonder, “What is the purpose of my life? What is my life plan? Does God still watch over me?” We seek and find reasons to be happy again. It was healing to wake up in the morning and discover that her first thoughts weren’t about Chad or the misery of the pain. This gave us new energy to start a day with new possibilities. We appreciate small miracles every day.
The growth of compassion and understanding are key signs that wounds are healing. We instinctively became more compassionate with all kinds of losses and struggles that others were dealing with. Grief is humbling and can open your heart to limitless opportunities to share, serve, and walk a new path, far different than you ever imagined.
It is not time that heals wounds. It is what we do with our injury and with our lives as a result of trauma or loss that caused us great pain. When we look at others who have “overcome” obstacles in life, we mentally compare our situation with theirs. We can look at them and wonder. “I can’t imagine how they did it. What’s their secret?” When we act on these instincts, we replace pain and suffering with HOPE.
Who am I now?
We become advocates for change, because we recognize that to live fully we must honor the obstacles we have overcome. We live in a world of changes. Think back to a generation or two and remember all the changes that have occurred in technology, lifestyles, clothing, women’s rights, and disease management. Be amazed how adversity creates change and change creates a better existence.
I feel blessed to have overcome intense grief and to have learned to accept the results. I feel blessed to be able to look back and remember, as horrible as it was, and recognize that the memories of that pain are temporary. I can quickly return to the current world of the living. I will never forget Chad who was a wonderful part of our lives. His story still reinforces great lessons of human nature, humility, sacrifice and endless love.
There is no question that I am not the same person I was before Chad died. On the outside, I have definitely aged. But inside, that’s where I’m really different. I have learned that life’s surprises make me as vulnerable to challenges as anyone. I have replaced “forgotten dreams” with “maybe moments”. I’ve put my regrets behind me (“I wish I had, I could have”) and focus only on the sanctity of happy memories. Loving family and friends have shared my sorrows; heard my story; and helped me honor the past.
On the inside, I understand the word “friend”, and I am lucky to have made many new friends. I value my commitments and have learned to say “No”. I adjust my priorities, sometimes after tense moments of fighting the inner ego that says “you have to” or “you have to do it.” I am more true to myself. In the need to create continuity in life, I try to build bridges where before there were many gaps. Although it often seems that I am not prepared for a single event, I am more prepared for the biggest event of all.
I am still the mother who lost a child. I still feel sad dreaming dreams that will never come true, but I keep going. Time has healed the deepest wounds, but a shadow of the scars will always remain. They are battle scars; medals of honor They mean Courage, Wisdom and Strength. They create unlimited stories of Hope. They are marks in time, lessons in love, and I wear them with pride. They pay homage to this anonymous quote; “Bread is inevitable, suffering is optional.” I think about healing the pain and replacing the suffering with hope.