Note: On March 8th, 1993 our eldest daughter Tasha turned 18 years old.
Two months later on May 7th she was suddenly torn from our lives.
The pain, the disbelief was overwhelming.
While trying to cope with this loss I was asked -
“ What is it like to lose a child? “ -
“ How does someone survive such a tragedy? “
For two years I struggled to find a way of answering this question.
One day in 1995 -
I put my thoughts and feelings on paper and wrote Dreadful Words and River of Tears
Dreadful Words
By Maria Stranaghan - 1995
Those words, those dreadful words!
Words I prayed, I would never hear one day.
"I can’t imagine how that would feel." I used to say.
“I hope I never have to face that loss, some day !"
That day came, in the middle of the night,
First a banging on the window - then desperate knocks on our door.
“ I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! “ my sister said.
They came to tell me, my child was dead!
That awful pain, it comes with such force that I die, over and over I die.
Why do I breath, why does my heart beat when I am dead?
My cursed heart that will not quit and leave me to die in peace, it beats on and on.
Days and nights of pain, living in a haze.
“ If it was me,” people say “ I would be dead.”
I look,
inside I cry out, “ I AM DEAD!”
But they are blind, they cannot see that I am the living dead.
I walk, I talk, I breath - but I am dead.
“ You have to go on," they say
“ you have others to care for, life goes on. “
“ Put it behind you, try to forget, you will learn to live with it,
things will get better, time heals all wounds. “
No! No!
This is not what I want to hear.
Over and over, on and on they go.
What do they know, my child is dead - I am dead!
I hear what they say,
my heart beats,but I am dead, I am one of the living dead.
Hours - days - weeks - months go by - first year, then the next.
Fear is with me now, always in the shadows.
It could happen again, I am a mother to others, I am a wife, daughter, sister, friend.
Others need me, I have to live on.
But the mother, I was to this one child is dead.
My child, my friend, my companion is gone.
There is a death of this relationship, this is not an easy death,
it is a slow and agonizing death.
I die a little at a time, sharp pains, dull pains, screams of agony, anger, they all come.
It haunts me, drives me to near madness.
How do I, how do we survive, how do we live on?
My child is gone, but her spirit lives on, in me, in all of those who loved her.
Her love of life, her love of others, lives on.
The milk of human kindness given time and time again, comforts us and heals our wounds.
Scars are left behind, big jagged scars, of a loss that can never be replaced.
In its place we have a knowledge that others care family, friends, yes even strangers care.
They all care because of human kindness.
Without this kindness that is given so freely the pain would be so much greater.
I cannot imagine what the world would be like without it, I know I would not want to be here.
It’s worth going on, to be with those you love, with all of those left behind.
To try to give back all that was given so freely.
LOVE -
SUPPORT -
and FRIENDSHIPS,
without which there is no life -
only existence and then death.
zzzzzzzzz
River of Tears
By Maria Stranaghan - 1995
My child is gone and I have cried a river of tears.
Who knows where this road of pain and grief will take me.
I know others care - but this is a road that I have to walk alone -
but not alone.
No one can take this pain away from me.
They can only be there to comfort me.
At times, I feel like I am walking a tight rope, over a river of tears.
On their own ropes are my husband, my children and others that loved this child.
We call out to each other.
We do not want to lose one to the jagged rocks below - that are in the river of tears.
At times I double over in pain - I am lost in sorrow.
A fog of despair falls over me and I cannot see a way to go on.
Others call out to me - they blow the fog away with words and acts of kindness.
They bring sunshine to my darkness and help to dry my tears.
Then there are those that say and do things that hurt me, while I I try to walk this rope.
Cruel words and actions that make me lose my balance .
Then I hang on only by a thread and I cry out in pain.
Those that love me, talk me back onto my rope, over the river of tears.
They know that they cannot walk for me, but they leave me not alone.
I walk on - with time there is less darkness.
I see the sunshine, I hear the birds and see the flowers.
I have been lost for so long and now I go on.
On this journey of life - by the river of tears.
I hope that these words answer the questions I was asked.
I also hope it will help to bring some comfort to those that struggle with loss.
Know that you are not alone and that one day, you will also see the sunshine.
There are many stages of grief -
For me I knew that, I had to make the decision to survive and at times it was only for that one moment at a time.
While I was going through these stages, I also had to make a decision to not be bitter.
I had to try to make life better, for myself, my family, as well as others.
In memory of Tasha Ann Stranaghan –
March 8, 1975 - May 7, 1993
No one truly gets used to the loss of a loved one but they find a way to go on.
Our family was truly fortunate and thankful that her wish to be an organ & tissue donor was fulfilled.
Take care and God bless.
Maria
