Child Loss: The Silence is Deafening!
As I think back on the worst moments of child loss and the loss of my sister, the one thing that stands out the most is the silence. The “absence” of the child that was loved so much leaves a silence that is deafening. Everything about the silence is a reminder that our child is no longer with us.
No more waking up to the cries of a little one needing his diaper changed. No more giggles following a splishy-splashy bubble bath. No more hearing the words “mommy or daddy” fifty or more times in a row.
No excited talk at the dinner table about the soccer game. No noise from the vacant bedroom. No more dirty clothes laying on the bathroom floor or yelling about the toys that are left strewn all of the livingroom floor.
The silence is deafening.
No phone calls saying, “I ran out of gas again. Can you come get me?”. No tears being shed over a broken relationship. No noise from all night movie parties in the basement with pizza and popcorn. No running through the house all hours of the day and night slamming doors.
The silence is so deafening that it’s scary! It hurts to hear nothing but the beating of your own broken heart. The silence is so painful!!!
No phone calls just to say, “I love you.” No more calls on special occasions like Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. Only the terrible moments of silence that serve as reminders of what can never be.
When a child dies so much of life is swept away. In a split second — the second our child’s heart stopped beating — the silence begins, and never again will we hear sounds of life in the same way again. Losing a child changes everything. Oh, that’s not to say that in time we will never learn how to smile again. We’ll smile one day but in a different way. There will always be a wistful longing for our child — always and forever the sounds of silence will echo deep within our heart.
I took this picture because it reminded me of “silence” — but instead of feeling scared, I felt a calm peace within as I looked across the field and gazed into the sky. I clearly remember this fall day. The air was brisk. The sky was gorgeous. And, I was feeling so alone. I was remembering the “sounds of silence” left behind from the death of my sister, from the death of my baby boy, as well as the death of my miscarried babies. I was wondering what life would have looked like had they all lived — as children are supposed to live. What would the sounds have been like with them here on this earth? I’ll never know because the reality is they are not here.
But, the beauty of the sky this day was healing to me. It gave me moments of peace that I needed. The golden field was ready to be harvested. It was time to enter a new season. The trees would soon lose their leaves. The air would turn from crisp to cold. And, for a season the earth would lay dormant and rest. But, the peaceful part came to me when I was reminded in my moment of silence that spring would return! In all of its lovely beauty, spring would return!!!! There would always be silence, but in time I would learn to see some of the beauty of life again. Never, ever would the sounds of life be the same, but on this particular day I was bathed in the hope that one day there would be less deafening silence and more peaceful silence.
There’s nothing fun about visiting a cemetery. I wish with all of my heart that it didn’t have to be this way. There’s just something so wrong about having a stone — a memorial marker — instead of our child with us. The silence at the cemetery is the most deafening silence of all! But, it’s also the place where heaven seems most real to me. I guess that’s why I like the picture with the golden field and the blue sky so much — it makes heaven seem real.
Child loss — the sounds of silence are so deafening. But, sometimes on rare occasions like the one I experienced in the field, the sounds of heaven are more real than the sounds of silence. And, I thank God for that!
It stinks to lose a child. It’s the most gut-wrenching pain known to all of mankind. But, we have to hang in there. Let’s promise that every now and then we’ll take a walk when we’re feeling miserable and so lonely from the silence that we think we’re going to die. And, on that walk, let’s find a place of peaceful rest and quietly talk to God. Let’s look to the sky and imagine heaven. Imagine our child in heaven. Imagine the peace and the freedom from all pain and tears. Sometimes that helps the silence to not be quite so deafening. Sometimes we have to allow heaven to drown out the deafening silence of child loss!
Love,
Clara
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24 Comments
Clarissa Berube
Beautifully said! I myself know this silence, a memory that remains constant. God bless!
Vanessa
Clara,
I have wondered who you were since finding your site. Thank you for introducing yourself. You make me feel less alone. You have lost so much of yourself and yet you still give so much of yourself away to share with us. I can’t find the words, to say how much you have helped to cushion this nightmarish road for me. Like walking barefoot through broken glass and razor blades but once in awhile you offer something without edges to stand upon if only for a moment.
Clara Hinton
Vanessa, It was hard for me to know how to let those of you who are my soulmates on FB know who I am, and I thought this blog might be a way of doing that. Thanks so much for your kind words. I pray every day that God will guide the thoughts that I write so that families going through child loss might get even just a bit of relief from something that was said. Again, thank you. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.
Amanda
I could not agree more….
Danna Stamper
My daughter, Nicole was also 13 yrs. old when she was killed. Thank you for sharing with us.
Nicole
I was thinking about you the other night…about. This site which keeps me alive…but also let’s me heal too..I lost my twins at birth than a few months later my brother and a few more months later. My sister in law…it does stink but god has given up the best gift…their every minute we had with them…it might have not been as long as we wanted but its as much has god thought we need….they say ppl come and go in our lives for a reason unknown,,they leave a foot print in our hearts and souls..either if its a good or bad….
If my twins wouldn’t of gone to our lord..I wouldn’t of been ready to help my mother and father along with my brother’s passing…it killed me to hurt,,cuz he was my best friend but killed me more and made me strong to hold up my family when they needed it…also when my husbands sister passed…I was stronger since my brother passed to help him thro this…
I am very moved by your page….and there is a reason u have it..not just for yourself but to give hope and help to someone who needs it.. Your lose has made you so much stronger…god bless you dear..
Thank you so much
Nicole
Jodie light
Thank you for the comforting words .ill never be the same
Vicki sharp
Oh the silence is the worst. My days feel like an eternity. No more chaos no more kids dropping in and commotion I do so miss. I actually look forward as the sun goes down that it won’t long before I can go to bed. However after 18 months I find myself still asking myself is this real did this really happen. Life changed forever and dreams crushed. When I think my entire life was changed forever in a split second .
I do take comfort in that Addison knew Christ and I will see him again. It’s just so hard to engage with the outside world.
sunsetstormx
I understand and I really don’t talk to many about my Angela. I am heartbroken beyond any words that could form from my mouth. I have no one to truly relate to in person and it is a lonely path.
angie treadway
knowing he isn’t in his room is so hard everyday. he always kept the door shut in there or not. our puppy liked to go poo in there so he closed the door. my sweet Joseph went home on his 16th bday on july 4th this year. its been 49 days and seems like forever. I miss him so much I ache all over. I don’t know how I am expected to go on without him. all that keeps me waking up is my older son who is disabled with a brain injury and I know he needs me so much. I cling to him cause now he is all I have. hope we can all help each other find some kind of comfort or at least a way to make it through a day. I love and miss you son with all my heart
Michael Aggabao
You speak to my heart during this deafening silence! Thank you. I hope I can put music through this wonderful piece. Here’s a song I wrote “Daddy’s Arms” available now on iTunes
http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?id=690104841
Michael Aggabao
Clara,
Your words echo on my broken and heart and through this deafening silence. I’ll try to write a song about this piece. August 30th marks my daughters second anniversary . I keep reminding myself that I didn’t lose her and that she is heaven with the loving arms of our Heavenly Father . As a tribute to her life and love I released a new single “Daddy’s Arms” it talks about my longing to hug and dance with her.http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?id=690104841
Liz Mercier
Your posts are beautiful and resonate so strongly with me. I, too, lost my beautiful youngest boy and then my sister. My mother and I talk about “the continuous presence of ABSENCE” – the absence of my beautiful boy and of my beautiful sister in my life is like a LOOMING presence – in every room, they are not there, in my arms, they are not there, at every gathering, they are missing. As painful as that is, it is comforting to know that we are not alone in that crushing absence and in that deafening silence.
sunsetstormx
My daughter can probably relate to your words and heart. As she lost her best friend and sister 7 months ago. Thank you for sharing. I will share this with her.
Jackie
My husband & I have lost 2 sons, 11 yrs ago this past mothers day & 1 yr ago this past January. It has been a gut wrenching life loosing 2, josh was 20 when he died & brandon was 28 and had been a marine for 8 yrs, made sergeant, put ptss was more than he could bear…..I am lost every day that passes should get better but only gets worse. I guess you could say I’m being consumed by the loss of them both but brandon was my baby!!!! We had so many plans & now I have nothing….
sunsetstormx
I am so deeply sorry for your tremendous loss. There are no words to describe this kind of pain. From a mother who knows….
jessica
oh so true. I had a dream shortly after my son Matthew was killed in a car crash. In it my son was dressed all in white and bathed in light like Id never seen before it was so vivid. He was healed and he was happy. He told me heaven is not like we think it is. He said it is wherever you want to be. It is everywhere. And that once we make the journey home we will know true happiness. For the very first time since he died I woke up with no pain in my heart and no tears in my eyes. Only peace. Sure I still missed him but know one day I will see him again. My dream I think was just a gift to my mind and heart to ease my pain and to reassure me of the idea of eternal life with God in heaven.
Deb
Kyle Hendel 1987 to 2000
Gary M. Hendel 1983 to 2012
I never sleep very well. I hate using drugs. But I am not too sure how I survive this without them.
It turns out a connective tissue disorder runs in our family. It causes aneurysms. I have 4. ????????? Sometimes I want to load up my car and drive away. But it will all follow me. There is no moving on with this one. Garys nickname since Jr high was Gnome. He had Gnome Electronics. With his death we learned what was causing all these unusual things in our families. He was an electrical engineer who died while exercising @ Kettle Bells class. His friends don’t talk to us anymore. They have moved on. It makes it all the more sad. We are 59 and 60. Our other sons won’t have children they say. We won’t be looking forward to normal. I have always lived under the premise that there are worse things than death. And the more you have, the more you have to loose…… Our boys are suffering too but much differently than dad and I. Time can’t go fast enough for us.
Clara Hinton
Deb, As I read of the losses of so many, my heart bleeds just a little bit more. There’s so much pain brought on when a child dies. It’s never one loss, but so many associated losses, too, as you’ve pointed out here. I’m so very sorry for the loss of your son Gary (Gnome as he was affectionately called). You got answers from his death (what a horrible way to get answers, right?) and now your family is dealing with all of the other losses such as the fear of bringing other children into this world. Suffering on so many different levels, and we’re left with the ongoing pain of not knowing how to do this thing called “living” anymore. So, we struggle, and thank God, we reach out for support. And, that’s why I pray over this blog every day — asking God to make this a place of help and genuine support for all of us who have known the pain of child loss.
My most sincere prayers are with you and your family. I pray that today you will experience just a bit of peace and solace — a time of “restfulness of the soul” that you need so very much.
Arianna'sMommy
Clara, your words are so true. I lost my little girl a little over 7 years ago and the silence still looms. I since have had 2 little boys, but before and after my daughter, I have had 3 early miscarriages. I always wonder what a house full of trucks and cars would look like with my daughter’s girly things around. Would they place princess and dragons together or what would my daughter (who would have been 18 months older than my oldest son) being doing with both my silly boys? Would I finally get to watch some Princess movies too or would I still be stuck with teenage turtles and just boy things all together. Even as a whole, my family does mostly boy things….my boys are 4 and 5 1/2, so I don’t get much of a choice being the only girl in the family. The silence at the cemetary feel so unkind to me. I bring flowers to her and teddy bears, but she still will never open her first barbie box or hold those teddy bears. She will never “really” get her first bouquet of flowers, because she isn’t here to receive them. I talk to her at her graveside, but I talk to her everywhere. I know she isn’t in that little casket, and I hate what I would see if I had to look in that casket today. So talking to her at the cemetary feels useless. I don’t believe she is there. She gives me signs to let me know it is ok, but sometimes it still feels like its not ok. Who am I to shop and go get little pedi
s and mani’s with? Throwing a ball in the back yard is my thing now. I wished I could have my little girl still. Then I wonder about my 3 early losses….was any of them a girl, who would they be and what would they be like? I know my 2 sons already have totally 2 different personalities, so what all would be the personalities of my other children? My last question, is why me? I needed a girl in my life, but due to illness, I don’t think a pregnancy would be good for me. Then on top of that it would probably be a boy. I think 3 would be enough for me to handle so I wouldnt even try again. (Heck my 2nd son was born at 28 weeks and they had to revive him in the NICU after a heart surgery 5 times, so it was hard enough getting him here!) Life can be so cruel sometimes. The bittersweetness of it all is when I here a little girl being called Arianna, or just yesterday actually, I met an Arianna in my youngest son’s pre-k class. I had asked her (and her friend, even though I knew her friend’s name since it said Jordan all over her back pack, but you have to give all the kids attention. lol) name…..when she said Arianna, I just wanted to cry right there in front of anyone. I didn’t though. I held my tears back as hard as I could and told her that her name was beautiful, that I have a daughter named Arianna…..but do I really? I am the only one who seen her besides my husband and the family that went to the funeral, but if I meet someone new…to them I don’t have a daughter nor a child named Arianna, if I had, why wouldn’t she be with me? Then telling the story is like opening up a new set of tears. (It has been especially hard this year since we just lost my 13 month old niece in May) Telling her story, at least to me, let’s me know she WAS real, I do have a daughter named Arianna and it wasn’t just all a bad dream, She was here once and hopefully one day when it is my time, I will have my Arianna as well as my other 3 too. Sorry for the rant, but I have the tears flowing right now and just thinking how other mama’s have their Arianna’s and I don’t hurts. I would never wish any mother to loose her child. I dont understand why children must die anywyas. Like I said previously, life can be so cruel! May all our babies r.i.p.
Kerri Lewis
I miss my daughter every single day and its been 7 years. Thank you for sharing your journey with those of us that grieves. It helps to not feel so isolated and crazy for not being able to ever get over it. The silence is deafening.
I created a slide show on you tube if anyone would like to know her story..
http://youtu.be/Nb_pwUc3D1E
Clara Hinton
Kerri, I’m so sory for the loss of your beautiful daughter. I viewed the slideshow on youtube — what a wonderful tribute to Hailey’s life. Thank you so much for sharing. Again, I’m so very, very sorry about the accident.
Rebecca Medrano
Kerry I’m so sorry for your loss. I lost my youngest son August 30, 2006. I lost my oldest son July 26, 2012. One of the hardest things with my oldest son is I don’t know exactly what happened to him. It drives me crazy. I love and miss both. My youngest was killed in a car wreck due to his drinking and driving. August 30 is also my oldest sons birthday. I almost can’t deal with life itself. I get up everyday because other people depend on me not for myself. We played that song at my sons funeral. If you get a chance listen to yesterday by rascal flatts. Please take care.
Debby Lundstrom
So sorry to hear about your child, I lost my baby girl 19 years ago yesterday, she was 19 years old! Love and miss her every day!