This beautiful article was written by Share's Program Director, Rose Carlson.
One of my favorite things about my job at Share is a burial
service and ceremony we host four times each year for babies who were
miscarried at three of our local hospitals. It is one of my favorite things because
I know how much something like this would have meant to me many years ago when
I experienced my own early losses, and I do all I can to make it memorable and
meaningful for the families who attend. Over the years I have planned and
attended this ceremony, I have been incredibly blessed to meet so many parents
and their extended family members who have shared countless touching stories
with me—stories of their own losses and how healing it would have been for them
to also have a service such as this. It is held at a local funeral
home/cemetery, and while each grave is not marked, there is a monument of a
kneeling Rachel from the bible next to a plaque that reads, “Our hopes and our
dreams lie here.”
I have always loved that. It is so fitting for someone who
has experienced the death of a baby, especially early in pregnancy. Oftentimes,
others do not understand the depth of grief a parent feels when a baby dies
early in a pregnancy, and this plaque says it all—because not only has a baby
died, but the hopes and dreams the parents had for that baby, perhaps from the
moment the pregnancy was confirmed, died as well.
Our summer service was a few weeks ago. It is a simple,
short ceremony that consists of poems, songs performed lovingly by a bereaved
mom whose son died 13 years ago, comforting words from one of our hospital
chaplains and a graveside balloon release. This time, as I listened to the
speakers and poems and songs, for some reason, I found it hard to hold back
tears. It is rare that I cry at this ceremony, but when I do, it is usually
because there is someone in attendance whose situation reminds me of my own.
More typically however, I hold off my tears until I am in my car on the way
home. That was not the case on this particular day…I didn’t know the story of
anyone who was there, yet I found myself fighting tears anyway, especially when
I looked at one young couple who was especially distraught, crying loudly and
holding each other tightly. So that others wouldn’t see that I was crying, I looked
down at the floor.
As in most funeral homes, at least those I have been in, the
décor is fairly ornate. I have been in this funeral home many times, not only
for the Share burial service, but also for the funerals and calling hours for
people I have known as it is one of the most “popular” funeral homes in my
city. But on this day, as I stared at the floor, I noticed something I never
paid attention to before: The patterns on the carpet. There were several
different shapes scattered about in shades of green, burgundy and gold, and
they reminded me of the varying patterns in a kaleidoscope. The more I stared
at my feet, and the more I examined the details of the carpet, the more my mind
drifted, and I considered the ways a kaleidoscope is similar to grief and life
after ones baby dies.
A kaleidoscope contains many different pieces, colors and
gems, and while the pieces and colors stay the same, even a minuscule turn of
the wheel causes each little fragment to combine in a way that makes something unique
and unexpected.
As I stared at the carpet, I thought about how the same can
be said for grief. The “parts” are often the same even though life has
completely changed. People in one’s life are the same-- friends, family
members, acquaintances, neighbors, coworkers. Situations and circumstances are
likely the same--going to the grocery store and Target and preschool and the
park and evening walks. I thought about how even though the same “parts” are
always there, one little twist or turn of events can cause those parts to
tumble and change into something completely different from what appeared before
the twist. I thought about how when you
turn the end of a kaleidoscope, some patterns and configurations are prettier
than others, and you never know what you’re going to see. The same can be said
for grief: Sometimes, the twists and
turns reveal something you do not like, something that angers you even. Other
times, the twists and turns reveal something beautiful that you weren’t anticipating.
And, most definitely, when you are in the depths of grief, you never know what
to expect from the twists and turns each new day brings.
When I was at home later that afternoon, I couldn’t get the
thoughts of a kaleidoscope out of my mind, so I sat down at my computer and
began Googling to see if there is some symbolic meaning in kaleidoscopes.
Well, lo and behold, there is!
I read a handful of articles, all of which discussed
metaphors that relate to kaleidoscopes. I could connect most of them to what
parents undergo after the death of their baby, and I began to feel less crazy
for the thoughts I had about kaleidoscopes as I stared at that colorful
kaleidoscope-y carpet.
New
beginnings emerge from the breakup of past forms
Wow. How true is that?
I’m not sure there is
anything that causes a new beginning for a person more than the death of a
child does. Over and over I have read, been told by so many bereaved parents,
and even learned myself from firsthand experience that life is often abruptly
divided into “before” and “after.” While the people in your lives may stay the
same, relationships are often forever altered. Frequently, those changes are
for the better, but just as often, they are not. It is not uncommon for
grieving parents to see people and relationships in new and surprising ways
after the death of their baby. The people are the same, but a slight turn of
events, even words, can shift lives and relationships into something else
entirely.
All things turn and
spin and change, endlessly rearranging themselves
Again, how perfectly does that fit with the way grief
evolves and in the process, transforms the grieving parent and often everything
about the bereaved parent’s life? Grief is made up of so many different emotions
and thoughts, and they are ever changing, not only from one week or day to the
next, but often from one hour or minute to the next. Again, the pieces of your life
likely stay the same, the people involved may stay the same, but they are
constantly rearranged into different patterns based on seemingly innocent
situations. One day, grief may be triggered by a song on the radio, another day
that song may not have an impact, but a random encounter in the grocery store
can bring you to your knees. A loved one who you were once close to may be
unsupportive and irritated with the way you are grieving, yet a mere
acquaintance may pleasantly surprise you with kindness, compassion and concern.
This rearranging of the usual order of your life can make you feel out of
sorts, confused and frustrated.
Change evolves from
chaos
Is there anything more chaotic and upsetting to the routine
of one’s life than the death of a child? I think not. Some of the most profound changes that a person can undergo are
those that occur after the death of a baby. Your life may have felt neat and
tidy, going according to plan, when your whole world was abruptly and violently
shaken, turned upside down--crushed and destroyed. Your life and world likely
seem chaotic with everything out of control, and profound changes will
inevitably occur.
I found this especially meaningful when thinking of bereaved
parents:
The patterns of a kaleidoscope,
a succession of interlinkings, are unified into one whole. Each piece is a
vital part of that whole, no matter how small. Take one piece away and the
image is not quite the same.
I pondered that one for quite some time.
Using that image, a kaleidoscope is not only a metaphor for
grief, but also for the entire experience of life after the death of a baby. If
one were able to pop open a kaleidoscope and remove a piece then put it back
together, that kaleidoscope would never again be the same, though from the
outside, it would appear unchanged. After the removal of that one piece, no
matter what pattern is created after each twist and turn, that missing piece
will forever affect the entire kaleidoscope. While beautiful patterns will still
be created, they will always be different than what would have been created had
that one tiny piece not been removed. Your baby, no matter how small, will
always be a vital, missing piece of your
whole. You and your family may look the same from the outside, as if you have
been “put back together.” Yet, while the pieces of your life will change and
evolve in many different ways, sometimes beautiful, amazing, breathtaking ways,
there will always be one crucial piece missing that will forever affect the
whole of your life. While there will still be lovely moments, moments of peace, even moments of joy, that missing piece
has forever changed your kaleidoscope.
I want to end this with something I read in one of the
articles that I find especially significant. The author wrote:
The
tumbling pieces are held together by a protective circle.
Again, I found that applicable to the experiences of a
grieving parent. The protective circle, which typically has a huge impact on
the ways a bereaved parent grieves, begins to heal and eventually finds new
hope is formed by your loved ones. Your protective circle also will evolve and
change as time goes on. It’s not uncommon for those who were supportive and
enveloping with their compassion for you to fade away and be replaced by someone
new, maybe a support group or new friends who have been where you are, someone
who becomes an integral part of your protective circle. That protective circle
is a crucial part of your story, of your baby’s story, of your ever-changing
yet still beautiful kaleidoscope.
