DEATH
DURING
OR FOLLOWING A
CONFLICT
A little-discussed
problem for many bereaved parents is the state of their relationship with their
child in the days or hours preceding their child’s death. This problem is not
unique to those of us who have had either our only child or all our children
die.
Most frequently, the
issue revolves around argument, anger, or harsh words between parents and
children as the last contact before death.
It is a small wonder
that this should weigh heavily. None of us would willingly choose such an
unpleasant, permanent parting. Yet, it is not entirely uncommon, as my own
situation illustrates.
Olin, 17 year, our
old son and only child, was working in the dining room and kitchen of a summer
camp a few miles down the road from home. On the day of his death, July 6,
1982, 1 suddenly realized it was 8:00 a.m. and rushed to his room to get him
up. Unfortunately, he had been out somewhat late the night before and had
assured me that this would be no problem for working the next day. Thus, I
yelled at him to get up, only to be assured that he had time. That seemed farfetched
and I was verbally forceful in requiring him to get up and leave for work. Our
dialogue was heated and senseless, my own option being a good example of a
parent’s unreasonable demand (so I discovered later from Olin’s employer).
I was troubled
throughout the morning and resolved to apologize that evening and straighten
out the needless tension of the morning. But such was not to be, for at noon He
was dead, and never again would we meet in life.
It took months of
soul searching, with much time spent in the abyss of depression and despair
before I could come to terms with the conflict that seemed to cloud the loving
nature of our relationship.
I finally came to
understand that the years of our contact as father and son, the genuine love we
shared, was the true measure of our care and concern for one another. It was
not the first time one of us had been unreasonable or argued. Had he lived, we
likely would have had other, similar struggles, for such is normally a part of
human association. Indeed, it is only in loving that
we dare the closeness that enables the intensity of parent-child disagreements.
Olin was a teenage boy seeking a growing measure of independence, albeit with
the security of a strong and loving home base. And I was parent trying to learn
how to let go and still keep him safe. Such is a usual time of passage between
parents and kids. This is not to make light of such a time, for in the best of
circumstances it is difficult to deal with in a constructive manner. When
children die in the midst of turmoil like this, it is only reasonable to expect
a deepening of torment and guilt. For all of us, it is wise to accept that the
love between parent and child, before, during, and after the teenage years,
keeps both vulnerable to disagreement and conflict.
I finally came
to understand that had the situation been reversed, and I had died, Olin, would
feel a great intensity of that same type of remorse and guilt. Like me,
Olin would have finally been forced to examine our years together, to remember
other conflicts, and recall the consistency of the love and care with which all
were ultimately resolved, I believe he would have come to realize that I did
not doubt his love, that a petty argument had no power to devastate what love
had built between us.
So at last did I
still the guilt of our final parting, realizing that the bond of love was the
bulwark of our relationship, thus rendering it impervious to smallness and
pettiness.
We love our children
and try to do what is right for them. But, we are human, without foresight or
insight. In spite of our intentions, we make mistakes. We feel the same
emotions our children feel, and even though we strive to be more mature, we do
not always succeed. In our loving, we make errors in parenting, as our
youngsters, in their loving, make errors ors too.
Olin knew I loved
him. He knew before, during, and beyond death. This I firmly believe, after
walking the deep valleys of my guilt and anguish.
If you are one of
those parents who, like me, confronted the end of your child’s life before
conflict was resolved, I urge you to examine your relationship with your son or
daughter in all its expressions during all the time you had together. I know
you will feel again and see again the love. Know that your child saw and felt
the love, too.
Remember, whatever your
final words, you parted in love. In that same love you remain. And many’ of us
firmly believe that it is in that love, ultimately, that you will meet again.
-Don Hackett TCF
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