How to help a child survive the loss of a mother
Hopelessness. Darkness. Despair. Emptiness. Cold. Dead End. Apathy. Loneliness. Weakness.
At a certain point in life, each of us faces this gloomy labyrinth and it is only faith that helps us get out of the situation.
The funeral of a father and mother... This is inevitable, we must go through this test. We must live through those hopeless days when it seems that our whole life consists of fragments and ruins and there is nothing ahead that can cause even a shadow of a smile and a glimmer of hope. But such is the order - children bury their parents, see them off to that world from which there is no return. They cry. They pray. They do not sleep at night. They hold back the screams that choke them. They live, gritting their teeth and clenching their fists. They come to the cemetery and for a long time call out to God to forgive those whose smiles were the light, whose hugs were home and whose eyes were a sea of love and forgiveness.
Most of us experience this terrible pain (the loss of parents) as adults. We have life experience, the support of friends, a favorite job. Responsibilities that lie on our shoulders do not allow grief to completely take over our consciousness. But what if a child is faced with death? How to help a small person overcome what is sometimes beyond the strength of even adults - life in a cold world without mom and dad?
“I was thirteen when I lost my father and mother. They crashed, returning from the city with gifts and new clothes for school”, - says 54-year-old Olga. “I do not remember the entire funeral, only individual moments, details, smells, sounds. That evening, as my parents were late, I warmed up soup for myself and my sister. At that moment, Mother was no longer alive. Just imagine, we ate food prepared by her hands for the last time. People began to gather around: neighbors, relatives, my parents’ colleagues. I immediately realized that something terrible was happening, and their silence only made it worse. Then I began to scream, rush about, break dishes and begged to be told the truth. My aunt took me to my parents’ bedroom and barely audibly whispered: ‘Mother is gone, and so is Father.’ I threw myself on their bed, the pillow smelled of Mom’s perfume, I sank into darkness, came to consciousness and fell into that state again. I do not know what would have happened to me if it were not for my sister. She was only five years old; she would come into the bedroom, stroke my head and quietly say, ‘I love Mother, I love Mother, I love...’”
They left...
Very often, adults who surround a child who has faced the death of their parents begin to lie to them, “Mother and Father went on a trip”, “are in the hospital”, “on a business trip” - all these fictitious stories make the child think that he is not good enough and that his parents simply abandoned him. All this happens against the background of adults whispering about something, crying. The child loses trust in others. As you know, one little lie gives rise to an entire ocean of deception. A child, regardless of age, understands this. How to talk about death? Honestly. For the sake of one minute of peace, you cannot give a child empty hopes that he will soon see his mother and father. The truth will be painful but it will help the psyche not to break down. Explain to your child what death is from a religious perspective. Constantly remind them how important prayers are for the dead.
“My mother died giving birth to her fourth child,” says 40-year-old Khadija. “I was eight then. My mother is a beautiful princess, my ideal, the most beautiful, sublime, tender. There was a pleasant excitement at home in those days before the birth. We were waiting for my brother, I was sorting through my toys, thinking: I’ll give him a bunny, balloons, draw a beautiful picture. Before leaving for the maternity hospital, my mother cleaned up completely. I remember her light, quick steps. She wanted to get everything done. Right before leaving, my mother brought me and my sisters a huge cake, kissed us and went to the exit. The news of her death did not reach us right away. They lied to us children, told us that my mother was in the hospital with the baby and that they would soon discharge her. But in reality, there was no longer any mother or brother. Our grandmother took us to the mountains. She was very religious, she read the Koran so beautifully and quietly. Then she told us about Paradise and where the souls of newborn babies and their mothers go. I did not need to say anything else. I realized that the Almighty had taken my angel. I read a prayer from the Koran and cried so much that its pages became wet. Grandma hugged me and cried with me. After a while, Father came for us. I did not recognize this gray-haired, emaciated man. Poor Father, Mother was air for him... When I grew up, I found out why he reproached himself so much. After three daughters, he dreamed so much of a son...”
To be continued…
