After My Great Loss

the persistent presence of a few genetically distinct cells in an organism. This most commonly results from the exchange of cells across the placenta. The connection between mother and child may be even deeper than thought.

After My Great Loss The period following the news of my daughter’s death was one of the most difficult times in my entire life. Perhaps because I was in a weakened state, having just gone through a surgical procedure, I experienced a severe reaction and only later realized that I had gone into shock. I felt numb, as if I were seeing and hearing what was going on around me from a distance. I did come out of this initial state in only a few hours, feeling as if someone had splashed a bucket of ice water on me to wake me up.

The staff at the rehabilitation center were very sympathetic. They moved the other bed out of my room and brought in extra chairs for my friends and family who came to offer me support. I was unable to sleep or eat much during the next few days that I spent there. The reaction to this loss was much more severe than what I had experienced with previous losses.

The entire first two years after my daughter’s death were difficult, and I cried at least once every day during that period. There were some things I did during that time, however, that were helpful. We are fortunate to have an excellent community grief center in the area in which I live, and I took advantage of their free services. Initially I started seeing a grief counselor at the center, one who was very well trained and helpful. I really looked forward to the sessions. Even though at the beginning I cried for most of the time we were together, I always felt better when I left.

The second thing I did at the community grief center was join a group of parents who had lost adult children. I was fortunate that the group leader not only encouraged us to share our feelings but gave us helpful information as well. It was tremendously comforting to hear

from the other parents and know that I was not alone in struggling to deal with the crippling grief that consumed me.

It was while I was attending the group that the news came that my daughter had died of a drug overdose. While I had feared earlier that she might have been addicted to her prescription medications, I was unaware that she was ever taking more than that. Other parents in the group were going through the same experience, and being able to talk about it freely and hear my feelings reflected in their comments was remarkably comforting.

As time went on, I became more aware of the strong feelings that were underneath my tears. Following my divorce, my daughter and I had become our own small family of two. As she grew to adulthood, we each moved on with our lives, but we remained close. Despite each of us developing romantic relationships and close friendships, we still considered this small family our anchor.

I was appalled and devastated upon learning of her sudden death. I expected that we would remain close as I aged, and that no matter how far away she lived or whatever other close relationships we formed, our special love and companionship would always be central to our lives. It was not supposed to be this way! I was not sure I would ever get over such a catastrophic loss.

The fact that I was a certified Life between Lives facilitator through the Michael Newton Institute and knew a lot about death and dying did little to mitigate my pain in those early days. I was inconsolable and fell into a deep depression. However, later that knowledge was the very thing that helped me climb out of a deep well of despair.

During those first two years, I recognized the commonly reported stages of grieving that I was moving in and out of, and eventually the acute pain did lessen. Still, I experienced no real relief. My zest for living was gone, and although I was going through the motions, my world was gray and lifeless.

While I was having no difficulty in coping with everyday life, I felt dead inside. It became obvious to me that nothing was going to change