A nation grieves with you at the one-year mark of the moment that subdivided your life suddenly, violently and incomprehensibly. But knowing vast numbers of humanity are feeling your pain with you does little or nothing to numb the ache that permeates every fiber of your being.
Instinctively, I long for something… anything I could say or do to make this somehow less unbearable for you, that could block some of the pain or sop up some of your sorrow. I would love to be able to impart some wisdom that could assist you in navigating the depths of this horrible, unnatural chasm. One thing I can do is share some of the insight, experience and advice of those who have traveled this godawful road before you with the sincere hope that there could be a tiny kernel of value to aid in the effort it takes to move from one moment to the next.
Just over six years ago on the clear, brisk morning of Friday, December 14, 2012, our lives were forever altered when our precious 7-year-old son Daniel was shot to death in his first-grade classroom at Sandy Hook Elementary School, a few miles from our home in Sandy Hook, Connecticut. The youngest of our three children, Daniel was an ever-present light of happiness, affection and genuine compassion. His absence from our lives is profound and our grief is permanent.
Matt McClain/The Washington Post/Getty
I’ve learned that everyone grieves differently and there is no wrong way to mourn the loss of a loved one. People want to help you. Let them. It can feel awkward to accept food, assistance and various forms of support, but I have found that embracing the love of family, friends and even strangers can be mutually beneficial. At the same time, they will understand if you just need some space too.
Mike Stocker/Sun Sentinel/TNS/Getty
It’s normal and okay to be angry. With the best of intentions, folks may try to comfort you with the notion that “they’re in a better place.” Although I rarely articulate it, my response is “Daniel’s place is with his family here on Earth.” And if you subscribe to the concept of eternity, my feeling is… then what’s the rush? I still correct people who refer to “the loss of your son,” I tell them, as politely as I can, that “Daniel isn’t ‘lost’…. he was murdered.” It sounds harsh…. but it is — and sanitizing it is of no service to anyone.
I have found the work I do withSandy Hook Promiseto be an effective means to honor my sweet, little Daniel’s profound sense of awareness and compassion for others. If you are so inclined, perhaps immersing yourself in advocacy to prevent others from enduring the same torment could provide a similar sense of purpose-driven therapy.
Mark Barden and his son, Daniel.Courtesy Mark Barden
Grief can propel you to places you thought you’d be too weak to go and address battles you thought you’d be too weak to fight. The activism that emerged in the aftermath of the devastation at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School has had a profound and lasting effect on the landscape of gun violence prevention and the culture of our nation.
It has empowered America’s youth to effectively advocate for their own future and help build a safer nation for all of us. And more personally, it has delivered unprecedented hope and encouragement to me and my family, and has helped fuel my daughter Natalie’s own newfound journey of activism.
No one can fix this, as much as I wish I could just take your pain away and add it to mine, I know that’s not possible. So, I’ll offer everything I have: A shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, all my heart and the depths of my soul. Always. Anytime. Really.
source: people.com
