As a parent, there will be more times than you can count when you will disappoint your children. Times when you feel guilty that you made a wrong choice for them. When you feel like a failure and you can’t do anything right. Times when there is nothing that you can say that will dry their tears. So many times when you feel like you’ve let your children down.
I’ve experienced it all as a mom. Still do. Always will.
Yet, I hold a different guilt now. A guilt that will always be in the back of my mind for the rest of my life. A guilt that can sometimes consume every part of me.
The guilt that comes with being the parent that didn’t die.
When my boys were little all they wanted was me, Mommy. Then there came a point around age 3 or 4 when always wanting Mommy quickly changed to always wanting Daddy. In their eyes, Daddy became the fun parent, the adventurous parent, the funny parent, the one who they always wanted to be with and be like.
As they got older the love for their dad continued to grow. The longing to spend time with him continued to grow. My boys were so blessed to have a dad who recognized this and who made a point to spend quality time with them.
My boys went on more camping trips in their (too short) time with their dad than most people will go on in their lifetime. They were riding trails at the off-road park on their dirt bikes with their dad that some grown men wouldn’t attempt. He never missed a basketball or baseball game they played in. If he wasn’t there as their coach, he’d pull up right next to the dugout still in his uniform and on his police motorcycle to cheer them on because if he took the time to change his clothes or take his car he’d miss the first innings.
At 10 and 8 years old, he was the one they adored. He was the one they looked up to and the one they had to call before bedtime in order to fall asleep when he was at work. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
But having to tell those 10 and 8 year old boys that their Daddy wasn’t coming home, ever, was the hardest thing I have ever and quite possibly will ever have to do in my life.
I wished it was me. At times I think the boys may have wished it was me too. I just kept thinking that he would do such a better job raising our boys than I ever could. He’s the one they always wanted to be with anyways.
The guilt felt when you are the parent that didn’t die is so heavy that it physically hurts. The idea that you get to be the one to watch your precious children grow up and the other parent doesn’t, is crippling.
Holding your crying child when they can’t sleep because they are afraid of monsters under their bed or consoling a sad heart over a friend that was mean to them at school is hard. I’ve been there too. But trying to console your child who misses their dad after he was tragically taken away brings a whole new level of feeling helpless. Trying to answer their questions of why is impossible. Or trying to console your sad children, yet you aren’t the one they want consoling them just plain sucks.
The worst part of it all is there is nothing you can say, nothing you can do that will take away their pain or that will bring that parent back. It’s lonely and you question every single decision you now have to make for your children.
So as the parent who didn’t die, what do you do?
You surround your children with positivity. You make decisions that are best for your children, regardless of what anyone else around you may think or try to advise you on. You be confident in the way you and your spouse used to parent together and don’t veer from what you think he or she would do if they were here to make a decision with you. You become your child’s advocate in helping them through their grieving process and you always listen when they want to talk, especially if it’s about their feelings and their parent who is gone. You be patient and you make sure to also take care of yourself.
You keep that parent alive to your children. Each and every day.
You talk about him or her, you tell stories, you show pictures, you let them cry and you cry with them.
For a long time I wouldn’t let my boys see me cry. I would cry when they were in bed, when they were at school, when I was in the shower, always hidden from them. I hid all my emotions because I thought that if they knew how broken-hearted I was that it would make them even more sad. I thought I had to be strong for them and the way to do that was by not showing my emotion.
I was wrong.
Not letting them see how broken I was caused them to be angry with me, with life. Here was their mom going on with life like normal, or that’s what they could see, when life was far from normal. It wasn’t until I started to show my emotions in front of them and with them that we were finally able to start healing together.
I will always be the parent that didn’t die. I am the one who gets to see these little mini versions of their dad grow up into men. I am the parent that is present for all their accomplishments and all their failures. I am the one who gets to celebrate every sports game, birthday, graduation, weddings, every milestone. Their dad doesn’t.
It doesn’t get easier. I have just have to challenge myself as each year goes by to make sure I’m constantly creating ways to keep their dad alive in our lives.
Last week both our boys had their birthdays, #11 and #13. I was the parent that got to wake them up, kiss their faces, and tell them happy birthday. It was tough for me. as I’m sure it was for them too. The guilt I felt on those days was heavy.
Being the parent that didn’t die is hard. It’s the biggest responsibility I’ve ever been given, but I have to embrace it. For some reason God knew that I could handle this challenge. He had this all mapped out in His plan and it’s up to me to lean on Him to parent these two boys like their dad would have and as the parent who didn’t die.
Be open with your kids, be honest, let them see you as their parent hurting, sad and broken because chances are they are hurting too. Heal together, love together and keep the memories and the parent who died alive together.
I know that’s all I can do.
