I am grieving

Loss of a child

A grief that is not measured in time, but in the spaces they were meant to fill.

There is no language sturdy enough to hold this. We are not going to pretend otherwise. If you are here, you have lost a child (at any age, in any way) and the world has tilted on a different axis. You are welcome here. There is nothing you need to perform.

Why this grief is its own particular shape

The loss of a child rearranges time. The future you imagined for them (and through them) is gone, alongside the person they were. People will tell you to be brave; you do not need to be. Grief for a child is often described as the grief that does not pass, but rather one that you grow around. That growing happens slowly, and on no one's timeline but your own.

What you may be feeling

  • A bone-deep tiredness that sleep does not fix
  • Rage, at illness, at chance, at a god you may or may not believe in, at people who still have their children
  • Guilt that is not rational, and a hundred reruns of what you might have done differently
  • Moments of unbearable tenderness when a small thing reminds you of them
  • Distance, sometimes, from a partner who is grieving the same loss in a different language
  • The strange dual life of carrying on (work, other children, dinner) while a part of you has stopped

If they were very young

The loss of a baby or small child carries a particular ache, a life that was almost all promise. Your grief is whole, and so is your right to it. Do not let anyone shrink it.

If they were an adult child

An adult child is a friend, a witness to your own life, a piece of your future. Losing them is losing a relationship that was still becoming. Many people underestimate this. We do not.

If you have other children

You may feel that you must hold yourself together for them. You may also feel furious, sometimes, at having to. Both can be true. There is no shape this must take.

There is no version of this where it stops mattering. There is, in time, a version where the love you carry for them feels less like a wound and more like a presence. Not less, different. We will be here.

Home for grief

When you are ready

There is nothing you must do, and no order to do it in. These are only offered, for whenever they feel possible.

Speak their name.

Saying it aloud, telling their stories (even small ones) keeps the bond alive rather than closing it.

Make a ritual of remembrance.

Light a candle, plant something, write to them, keep their things close. Grief loves a place to land.

Be gentle with your body.

Grief lives in the body as much as the heart. Rest when you can, drink water, eat something, not to heal faster, but to be held through it.

Find others who know.

Other bereaved parents can sit with you in a way few else can. You do not have to explain yourself to them.

Let every feeling have room.

Tears and laughter, guilt and tenderness can share the same hour. None of it is a betrayal.

when you are ready

take the next step

no need to take all of these. take the one that feels possible today, and leave the rest for another morning.

to do, gently

  • · create a memory box
  • · write their favourite things
  • · light a candle on birthdays

to keep nearby

  • Healing After the Loss of Your Child
    Martha & Brook Noel
  • Empty Cradle, Broken Heart
    Deborah L. Davis

there is no right pace. there is only yours.

You may also wish to read

Where to turn

The Compassionate Friends South Africa, support groups for bereaved parents, siblings, and grandparents, run by people who have walked this themselves.

Many hospices and faith communities hold remembrance services through the year. Your local hospice is a gentle place to ask.

Two weathered direction signs pointing different ways

If the days feel unbearable

If you are struggling to carry on, please reach out, you should not have to hold this alone.

SADAG (South African Depression and Anxiety Group): 0800 567 567

Lifeline South Africa: 0861 322 322