Filling A Void Readers Share Their Experiences After Losing A Young Loved One

The summer was deadly in Deer Park. The community lost six of its young people in car accidents. In a July editorial, we asked for others in the Inland Northwest who had lost children to write letters explaining how they lived through the horror. More than a dozen responded with beautifully written, heartfelt letters. We have forwarded the letters to the families and are reprinting excerpts from some today. Thank you for your response.

JANE KIRBY OF BONNERS FERRY

I could hear the wounded animal crying in the distance. It was more of a low howl, a sound that crept into my thoughts and muddled them. The officer had just told us that our son’s girlfriend and another friend had been killed in an automobile accident. The animal sounds were coming from me. I realized this when I remembered that they had told us our son was also killed. He would never be home again.

As that first day passed by I remember wanting it to be over so that I could sleep. I knew that each day the pain would be less and I wanted to get that first step over with. We found out that this is a very fragile time in relationships. We learned not to fall into the “blame” trap. It was an accident. The family had to remain strong and support one another. Each person had to be allowed to grieve in their own way, no matter how strange that may be to someone else. My husband had to work. The harder he worked, the easier for him. I needed to be alone. We respected each other.

Sixteen years’ worth of one day at a time and our son has now been dead as many years as he lived. Each time I read of another person being killed in an automobile accident, I relive the day; I shed tears and my heart goes out to the mothers and fathers who hear that wounded animal crying in the the distance. I can only say it will get better. I promise.

Most of our son’s friends are mothers and fathers now. I see them with their children and some of them are named after our boy. It is odd. They are grown men and women and our boy is forever 16.

RUTH ECKHOFF OF DEER PARK

On Nov. 27, 1967, our 14-year-old son Myron was killed by a train. He had gone to a friend’s house after school and they cut over the tracks on their way home. Family came and stayed. Friends from work, church and neighborhood helped with food and things like laundry. Some just visited, sitting quietly. All these people helped through the first shock. Before this time, I did not think that memorial services and flowers were meaningful, but they were.

Another thing that sustained us was that we did not consider our children possessions, but gifts that were loaned to us. The thing most important to our survival was our faith and involvement in our church. For a long time I would awaken and read the 14th chapter of John where Jesus said: “I have prepared a place for you” and “because I live, you too shall live.” I pictured Myron being a whole person in God’s presence. It gets better but you don’t forget and I don’t think you should.

BARBARA MOORE OF LACLEDE, IDAHO

When our daughter Suzy died at age 14 as the result of a snowmobile accident, I found that if we had to lose her, there were even reasons to be thankful about the particular circumstances. There was no long, lingering, vegetative death. She did not run away, leaving us always to wonder where she was. And especially, I gave birth to her, but it was her dad who held her as she died.

Know that it’s OK to feel that it’s not fair! Our children have missed out on so much life - growing up, graduating, marriage, children, career, cherished dreams coming ture. It really is pointless, however, to look for reasons to explain the tragedies. We do, however, have a choice in the acceptance. We can be bitter and angry at everyone and the world or we can choose to learn and grow as individuals.

These tragedies help us appreciate life and family. Believe when others say that though the sorrow and pain never totally disappear, time truly does soften a hurting heart and it becomes possible to smile, laugh and enjoy life again.

LEOLA M. PAGE OF LEWISTON

It was 10 p.m. on November 21, 1976 when the phone call came from Post Falls, Idaho saying my 18-year-old son, his wife and my 14-month grandson were killed in a head-on collision on I-90 and also burned beyond recognition. I was a divorced mother with two other sons and no other relatives nearby. It was a situation that either devastates you or you find the strength within to continue. I chose to make no changes and I chose to talk of my tragedy to anyone kind enough to listen. I put no pictures away and let my memories be my priority.

Their German shepherd survived the accident and was returned to me. She was my faithful companion. The dog and I would hear squeaky brakes, watch the patio door for them to appear. For several years I couldn’t make myself clean my grandson’s two sticky handprints from an antique china cabinet.

We never know the reason we are chosen, as parents, to lose the precious part of us. I can’t offer any special words to ease the hurt. I can only say time eases the pain and talking about the accident, and my little family, was my way of survival.

BONITA DOUGLAS OF COEUR D’ALENE

Losing a child was the most difficult experience of my life. My son Paul was almost 2 months old when he unexpectedly died due to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I also lost a nephew to drowning several years later. I can relate to parents of accident victims in many ways. There was no warning and no chance for goodbye; my son looked awful when I found him and that image haunted me; I wondered if there was something I could have done that would have made a difference; my beliefs surrounding heaven and angels were very childlike and not extremely comforting and I felt strong feelings of anger which I had a difficult time sorting out.

Journaling helped me in the early weeks. We also found understanding in a grief support group. It helped us see that we were not alone. By sharing grief with other families who have been where you are, you gain a perspective that helps you see what others have gone through. Reading everything I could on bereavement also helped. Rasing a family, exercise and the beautiful natural surroundings of this area went a long way toward restoring my spirits. I could still hold dear to the memories without holding on to the loss. It takes rain and sunshine to make a rainbow. Now I know.

JULIA SCHMIDT OF KENNEWICK

On March 16, 1990 my 16-year-old son was killed in a car accident. I received cards and letters from parents I didn’t know who had lost a child and it helped me. I encourage you to get in touch with your local chapter of The Compassionate Friends or any grief recovery group. Talking helps. Don’t hold it in! Talk and then talk some more. It is part of the healing process. You may find that some of your friends and family will be uncomfortable around you. They will be afraid to talk about it because they don’t want you to cry. Crying is OK and you need it.

Grief is hard work and is draining. Take care of yourself. No one grieves the same and there is no timeline, but the first year is hell. You can get through this and laugh again, but I don’t believe that time heals the wound completely. I do know my son would not want me to be sad forever. I live my life because my child lived, not because he died.