I lost my child..that doesn't make her a secret!

In January of 2000, my oldest daughter passed away from a brief and sudden illness. To this day, people ask me how many kids I have and I respond, "3". They always ask how old, so I tell them the ages of each of my living daughters and then that my oldest would be however old and that she passed when she was 3. I always hear, "Oh, I am so sorry I brought it up!".

Hear me, people! Just because my daughter is deceased doesn't mean she is a secret or taboo. She is my daughter, alive in everything I do, and always will be my child.

I am writing this so that next time you meet up in a similar situation, you know what to say. Don't apologize! I enjoy talking about my child and most parents who are missing their child will want to share memories. She was the most lively, smart mouthed, quick witted, little 3 year old you would ever want to meet and I have so many stories to share.

You can certainly say you are sorry for the parent's loss, but follow that with asking their child's name. Give them a chance to tell you something wonderful about the child. I always do. I like to tell people that she was a really fun kid. Her favorite band was N'Sync and she saw them in concert before she passed. She danced through the whole thing and knew all the words to every song. She also knew lots of Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera and 98 Degrees. She was the epitome of fun! Always singing, dancing, joking and being a smart alec.

...if I start rambling like this, let me go. I might tear up, but don't feel bad! This is therapy for a grieving parent!

If you come into my home, you will be met by pictures of all of my daughters, though one will always be the same age and won't be updated along with the others. I don't hide her. She is everywhere. Her sisters know that they have an older sister and send her balloons with letters inside on each birthday. She will turn Sweet 16 in Heaven this year, and we will have a balloon release and bring a cake made of flowers to the cemetary. She will always be celebrated.

If you are ever faced with the horror of having to attend the funeral of a child, please don't say stupid things like, "it was her time." or "she is with Jesus now.". REALLY??? In about 2 seconds, it's gonna be your time! Though I am a firm believer in the fact that when it's your time, there is nothing you can do about it, no parent wants to stand in front of their child's casket and hear that. Simply say, "If you need anything, let me know." or "I am here if you need me.". Better yet, just show up at their house with food, a helping hand for chores or just quiet company. The worst time after a child passes is the first few weeks alone in the home where the child's things are all just as they left them. Be there! We need you. We might not talk to you or offer you a cup of coffee (better yet, you make the coffee!!!), but your presence is appreciated.

PLEASE, never tell a parent that it's time to get rid of the child's things! This will come in time. Granted, if it is a year or two later and nothing has changed, they may need counseling to deal with their grief, but don't push. I waited a month or so and my in-laws came over to help. We gave a blanket and some of her toys to each Aunt and Uncle to have. Her clothes were handed down to younger cousins. Her bed was donated. That was my timetable and my choices. Everyone deals in their own time and in their own way. Some people might pack everything up and store it or keep everything as is for a year. Some want everything gone immediately. Just be there to help and be supportive.

I talk about Joie all the time and sometimes people can't tell that she has passed if I am just sharing a story. Life goes on, as will Joie's memory. Oh! That brings up one more thing! Don't EVER tell a grieving parent, or anyone, for that matter, to move on after the death of a loved one! Move on? Really? That's like walking away from it and starting fresh. This is not like being dumped by a boyfriend or girlfriend. You don't leave it behind. It's a part of you. Something you always carry...yep, I've got baggage. Big baggage. I cry sometimes when I think of her, I can't watch movies where children die, and I want to break the kneecaps of everyone who ever hurt a child, but I have earned the right to be this way. We don't move on, but we go on, with the memory of our child and the ability to share it with the people around us, so that our children may live on.