my youngest son and his wife were killed in a traffic accident in september, 2019, leaving us with 3 orphans, ages 6, 3 and 9 months. i'll second
@Movingforward10 's wonder if the grief ever ends. mommy and daddy are gone forever. insert old folk tune here. "motherless children have a hard time when their mother is gone." i'll be 84 years old when that baby graduates from high school. "some folks say a granny will do when your mother is gone, but she'll grow old and die on you."
that saidmo after 5 years of processing. . .
there are many levels on which i feel closer to my son and his wife now than i did when they were alive. the romantic duo performing the classic soon-to-be-ex waltz are giving way to the idealized parents who are always there for their children. the woman who called me, "monster-in-law" feels more like the charming girl i knew as a promising high school student. my son and i had an immensely spiritual relationship. i believe it really is him whispering in my mind, "mom, we can work our theories better from here." i believe he guides me continually on the raising of his children. mommy, too. despite her facebook divorce cliches was a mother who loved her children dearly. when the children are feeling the stings of their orphanhood, they seem to take great comfort when i speak to them of mommy and daddy's spiritual presence. can you feel them right here, right now, telling us how much they love us?
family grief counseling was covidically derailed and i have yet to close those social distances to resume counseling. after typing all that, i wonder if i should bite the proverbial bullet and jump that hump. maybe. it's a big hump. the mandates that i disable 40 odd years of psychotherapy in order to isolate anew remain a thorny chew. pre-therapy, i was such a hardcore isolator that i knew about maintaining social distances before covid made the term a household cliche. 6 feet never was enough for me unless it was 6 feet under.