When Life Chooses to Deceive

The Absence of Language for Grief

I recently watched a clip from a movie that addressed the profound concept about what you refer to as those parents who have lost a child. The actress in the scene was trying to dig deep into the language(s) to understand how the world refers to people who have lost a spouse or to children who lose parents, but could not find a word that has been part of human vocabulary to refer to parents who have lost a child. It struck me that whenever anyone speaks about us, parents who have endured such heartache, unfortunate people who have had to witness the loss of a precious child, they often utter the chilling phrase, "their/her/his child died". These individual words, when put together, send shivers down the spine.

Yes, human languages have yet to establish a specific term for parents who have lost a child. I am sure the very thought of such a loss may have frightened scholars in the past, deterring them from acknowledging it, let alone coining a term for it. The closest approximation comes from the Sanskrit word vilomah, meaning "against natural order," reflecting the deep unnaturalness of a child leaving this world before their parents. While we are often referred to as 'bereaved', a term applicable to anyone grieving the death of a loved one, it feels insufficient, still, for the unique anguish we endure.

The Struggle with Anger and Blame

That is how unfaithful life got to us. I am constantly trying to assign whom I could be angry at when we lost our dear little charm, our younger daughter Aabi, at just 2 years and 8 months of her tender life. The urge to find someone or something to hold accountable for this catastrophic loss is overwhelming, a battle that rages with every breath I take. I struggle to direct my anger towards God, as my faith feels unstable and has lost its ground. I consider different factors that played out in those moments all day long, again and again, to decide where to direct my disappointment, anger, and frustration. Ultimately, I land on myself, grappling with the guilt of not being able to save my child during her brief, horrific ordeal.

Confronting the Chaos of Grief

It is this life that I am battling to accept. It turned its back towards my pleas, it brought before my eyes all that I or any parent in this universe even shudders to think of. This life that chose not to forgive but to punish. This life has gotten so out of order that we are unable to make sense of the events that led us here. The chaos of this existence leaves me questioning what went wrong and why. Do such terrible events happen randomly in this world, or is there a reason behind them? Regardless, the pain remains an ever-present companion.

The Failure of Life and Nature

Taking our daughter from us not only shattered our lives, failing us as parents, but also represented a failure of life itself. If life is a teacher meant to impart lessons of forgiveness, growth, love, and compassion, then it miserably lost control and failed. My faith in its beauty and mercy has crumbled, while nature continues to prevail in the universe, and all cosmic existence continues. Planets revolve, stars shine, rivers flow, plants flourish, as if nothing's lost.

The Unique World of Grieving Parents

The world transforms for parents who have lost a child. Life no longer offers its gifts. It feels like a betrayal. I am haunted by the notion that my baby was cheated by life. She was blossoming like a sunflower, full of confidence, when life decided to intervene cruelly. Our shattered confidence lies in countless pieces, each sharp edge piercing our hearts with each breath we take. If life is God, and God is nature, then it can be all but forgiving. Parents would choose to trade any punishment for the life of their children. This concept is as simple and as natural as life itself. But when life cheats, we have to bear the consequences. We cannot fight, and even if we do, we reach nowhere, for what we have lost is gone forever.

Surviving the Aftermath - Since and Forever

I am now simply a mother trying to survive this. Every day is a survival battle within this disorder and chaos life has left me. As I drag myself through hours that feel too heavy to live, it watches me trying to restore some semblance of normalcy to my elder child's life. It watches me gather pieces of her shattered heart and try every day to put them back together bit by bit, as I myself am constantly bruised with the sharp edges of mine.

They say I am strong, but it is only survival, and the kind no one ever wants to learn. As I learn the art of pretending to be okay so that my people and this world don't break with me, life goes on. It has to, for it is also trying to bring order to itself. But then again, the chaos in mine promises to remain!

Missing our baby and her love for this life. Wish I could defend her against life's play in the moment it chose to deceive her and us. Wish when life chooses to deceive, it spares these precious gifts it honors us with. I wish it would spare itself some grace and never bring a parent to witness their child's presence just in memories.