I can only speak about my own experience. This is all I know. Others may have experienced what I experienced in a different way, with different results, but this is what happened to me.

My 7 year old sister died in an accident when I was 12 years old. My whole family was devastated. My mom and dad were so distraught they just couldn’t talk about what had happened or my sister who died. They couldn’t talk about the tragic loss that made such a big end to their lives that in the next 15 years or more my sister’s name was mentioned less than a handful of times. My mother died last year, 30 years after my sister, and neither of us have spoken about what happened to my sister. It is still a taboo subject, buried both in our minds and in our consciousness.

At twelve I was in my early teens and teen years and the normal angst that accompanies them was buried under the weight of my sister’s death and the emotional chaos that ensued within me.

My sister’s sudden death was so shocking that I have very few memories of her – within weeks of her death she had blacked out Christmas which happened just 9 days before she died. I still haven’t recovered those memories.

When my sister died there was physical and emotional chaos as we moved to stay with my grandparents for a few weeks. In one afternoon my whole life turned upside down and I hardly remember those first days. Life consisted of organizing the funeral. The church was packed with friends, family, and almost everyone from the school my sister attended. It was an overwhelming experience. I still remember my dad fighting back tears while we were in church during the service.

Once my sister was buried, that was it. The talk and consolation that hadn’t taken place until now still hadn’t taken place. I was overwhelmed with pain and emotions and yet they were not addressed. Days, weeks and months passed in silence. I started to accept on some level that we weren’t going to talk about what had happened. I was left alone with my own thoughts as a way of coping: my friends at school had even been instructed by teachers not to talk to me about my sister. He was completely alone and could not understand the silence. However, there seemed to be no way to break it. I did not know what to say. And as time went by, I began to think that if my parents didn’t talk about Simone anymore, maybe it was because she wasn’t that important. Perhaps they had forgotten her. Maybe they didn’t love her. And if they didn’t love her, they didn’t love me either. With no emotional or physical comfort (we weren’t a hugging or loving family) I felt like I had nothing to say that this wasn’t true. So I started to believe that. Now I was not only dealing with the loss of my sister and my parents’ silence, but it was also having a profound impact on my own worth and self-esteem. I started to hate myself. The bread was overwhelming.

I didn’t see my parents doing anything wrong or being negligent because I didn’t feel mistreated. They were doing the best they could, and no one can do more than that.

I’m still working on these issues from my childhood. It is a long and lonely journey and although I no longer hate myself, I am quick to judge myself and have suffered long periods of depression my entire life.

Today there are more resources available for those experiencing the loss of a child. In 1980, my parents were forced to fend for themselves. My surviving sister received counseling for a few weeks, but nothing. At the age of 12 she was caught between the world of the adult and the world of the child. I would rather engage in adult conversation than play with my sisters, I was a responsible child, organized my own homework, walked 8 miles across town to school every day, so my family saw me as a ‘adult’, however, inside, emotionally, he was still a child. And even though I needed love and affection and someone to talk to at this sad time, I didn’t get it, my emotional needs weren’t met.

I am sharing this because I want to raise awareness on this issue. If you have suffered the loss of a child, make sure the needs of your surviving children are met. This may not be easy to determine, especially if they are usually quiet and don’t share much. However, you should make sure there is a provision for your child if they need it. It could be asking one of their friends (if your child is 11 or older) to watch them, or it could be asking a close family member or friend to make a special time for them where they are free to talk if they want to. It could be just doing things as a family and reassuring everyone how much you love them in a tangible way (buying toys doesn’t count!). Look for resources in your local area or online that can help. Grief and grief is difficult not only for you, but also for your children. If you can’t help them, find someone who can.