See our child differently

Can we see our child differently? Is it possible? And can this, if possible, help us to see others differently? And perhaps change our worlds for the better?

These are questions that have arisen for me over the past three years after my Hannah passed out of physical form and solely into spirit. I threw everything that I knew up onto the highest shelf I could heave it to and began a journey, crawling and staggering and limping, all the while thrashing about, and yet clinging to the tiniest ray of hope that there might be some form of relief somewhere, if only I could dig deep enough. 

I experimented with modalities and mediums and techniques and plant medicines and more, most of which I would have considered taboo (or maybe sin) in the past. I traveled, wept (still do), felt sorry for myself, questioned everything, got angry with those who did not seem to understand or care enough (waste of time), struggled with relationships that were strong in the past, all the while trudging forward in pursuit of ANYTHING beyond the seemingly inescapable pain and grief.

There is too much to tell, so I will stick with the point, which is to look at these questions that I started with above. Do I see Hannah differently than I did? In a sense, absolutely. I now see her more beautifully than ever, as she was not only my sweet, amazing daughter here on earth, but she has lovingly taken me by the heart and led me toward healing and beyond. I would have never broken down barriers that have long held me back if not for her. I would have stayed ‘stuck’ in my ways. Because of the grief, and not wanting to remain stagnant and mired within that grief, through exploring and experimenting and diving into life, I have broadened my horizons and can sense that there is so much more to this life than I saw before. Yes, and that includes before Hannah passed.

My daughter has ‘forced’ me to reconsider all, to DECONSTRUCT my thinking and my life, to not just sit at the walls of confusion that confounded me in the past, but prayerfully and excitedly find ways to ‘transcend’ those walls. So much of this world that we see is truly an illusion meant to trap us into non-life. There is more, of this I am certain, and I am scrapping and pulling away at the layers, excited to find what might lie beneath the muck. I can sometimes see Hannah laughing with the most joyful expression imaginable as I do so.

I believe our children who have gone on before us have opened a door for us, one difficult to see while the pain is so blinding, but one that is there, nonetheless. That door is there, though, and I believe our children are cheering for us, calling out to us, excited at where they can help lead us. 

Can we see our child differently? Can we see their joyous faces as they offer us hope? If so, and I believe it to be true, will they not also help us to see others and life differently? With forgiveness and love and peace and joy? I believe it is their desire. And it is mine for each of us. The journey continues…