Today would have been my brother Charles' 59th birthday if he hadn't died when he was eight years old. He is gone but not forgotten. I was ten when he died, and there was a lot that I did not understand about loss at the time. His death gave me the opportunity to grow up with grief. I am sure that my children can talk about this as well, because my youngest son had a brain tumor when he was five, and so they too have experienced the stress of grief at an early age. Parents may think that they are doing a good job addressing the grief in their children, but in my experience that just isn't so. I grew up having to find my own way with losing a sibling, and I know that my own children were deeply affected by their sibling almost dying. I think my parents found solace in spirituality, but that was no help to me. I had to learn how to find comfort and meaning as I grew up. It was solitary work. Neither my family or my friends were equipped to help. The upside is that I thought of myself as resilient when all was said and done and I entered my twenties. that illusion was shattered when my son was diagnosed with cancer, and I found that not to be the case. I fell apart like a novice at grief. When the pandemic has finally washed over the earth, there will be a lot of lives lost, and therefore a lot of grief to cope with as well. I hope those of us who are spared the loss of an immediate family member can help those who have not been so lucky to move forward with life. And may we all be better prepared to face such a catastrophic event in the future.
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