WALKING WITH A LIMP
As my wife Heather asks me if I could write this article – everything in me cries out, ‘Don’t go there!’ But I live in hope that our journey and experience of grief might be a source of encouragement for others who unwillingly find themselves on the same path.
As fathers, our God given role is to protect and supply the needs of our family. When our son Rowen died one of the significant personal crises that I had to face was the fact that I was unable to protect him from the genetic heart condition that led to his death at the age of 14.
As men we are also conditioned that it’s our role to fix things. With both of these characteristics I failed miserably. I was unable to protect Rowen or save him from death. And neither was I able to fix, change or control the events that led to his death.
Neither was I able to fix or change the pain and agony within my family or myself. As a bloke, part of my identity, who I am, is tied up in how well I perform to fix and repair things that are broken. I gain kudos, appreciation and a positive reputation by being able to repair something that’s broken.
The grief and tragedy of losing my son rocked me to my core because the inability to provide a solution or to mitigate the pain that my loved ones were experiencing, left me totally devoid of any confidence in myself – not just from socially accepted competencies but at a very, very deep personal level. Not only had I lost confidence in what I could do but also in who I could BE.
Life doesn’t allow for spending too much time dwelling on these things. There are duties and obligations that need to be attended to and it becomes a matter of either sink or swim. It didn’t take long before I realised that while there might be a handful of close friends who allowed me time and grace, the world at large, and especially my work environment, did not tolerate any degree of introspection, the demonstration of emotions or lack of focus on the job.
It would have been around five years after Rowen’s death before I started to gain any sense of confidence back in myself. Even then, I can only attribute the moving back into a more ‘functional’ life, to a deep personal awareness of the nature of God, and the certainty of catching up with Rowen again in eternity.
Ten years later, when I set aside time to reflect, I’m still overwhelmed with a sense of loss and unexpressed grief. I guess what this means is, that I’ve had to learn to walk with a limp.
