This post has been republished with permission from https://compassionate-care.ca/2023/12/25/the-first-christmas/
I will start this post with a trigger warning – this is not an easy read but it is a part of my story… this kind of work creates a natural reflection for those of us called to it – I am no exception. I am questioned plenty about why I am a death doula. I have spent my lifetime searching for answers… Why am I here? What is my purpose? Is there really some kind of spiritual life after this 3D one? I have concluded that sometimes there is no definitive answer, and as far as a purpose – perhaps our simply being here is all that is required, we do have free will to do with it as we see fit. Some of you may know my story, some of you don’t… I am one of “those people”, by that I mean a parent that lost one of their children. My daughter Autumn died when she was 10.5 months old of a massive heart attack on April 22, 2001. I wish that I could give grieving parents hope that the pain will somehow go away and that things will get better – I cannot do that – it would be wrong and very misleading. Can you find peace and joy again in your life? Of course, but it is never quite the same, and it is a very long journey indeed.
Flashback December 2001… I wanted to get something for Autumn’s grave so I
went out to a nursery in Kingsville (many of you locals will know which one – it was very different back then) I found a wrought iron heart fully decorated with beautiful greenery and such (I still have it less the greenery) and got in line to pay for it. There were 3 people ahead of me and Oh Holy Night was playing. I started to feel that panic set in, it is always hard to explain the feeling that overwhelms you – it is a feeling I can best describe as forgetting to do something very important but can’t quite put your finger on it. I realized I was hyperventilating when the older lady in front of me turned around and grabbed my arm and asked if I was okay? I looked at her and said “my little girl died”, that was the first time I was able to speak those words out loud and started sobbing right there in line at the check out. And you know what? I didn’t care one bit – I completely broke down in that moment. All of those women ahead of me, including the cashier embraced me in my grief. I will never forget that, and to those women I thank you.
I won’t sit here and tell you that Christmas is my favourite time of year, and that does come as a big surprise to many that have witnessed my decorating, crafting and care and the things I secretly do for people alone. I struggle with anyone being alone… when a child dies it creates a void that can never really be filled and a loneliness that I cannot adequately express, because for me I felt very alone in my loss and in my grief. The truth is, the bells and whistles don’t bring your loved one back and only serve as a distraction.
The death of your child – and it doesn’t matter what age we are talking about here – is brutal – it is unnatural to what we as humans see the circle of life to be. “it shouldn’t be this way”, and yet here we are… what I went through all those years ago and leading up to now may be stories I will share another time. Perhaps, for some some of you that is where the message of hope develops and becomes more evident. But for now, for those of you who know, I am so very sorry for the loss of your loved one – YOUR CHILD – and all though I don’t know how you feel, I do know how “IT” feels and you are not alone.
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Dawn Menard is a graduate of HHA's death doula certificate program. You can learn more about Dawn at https://compassionate-care.ca.
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