TEARS, TOOLS and TREASURE by Joanie Madsen

The first guest interview with another bereaved parent, sharing their own experience of child loss.

Thank you so much to Joanie for being the first guest contributor to this new collaboration.

Three times a week there will be a new post from a bereaved parent, responding to the same three questions. My hope is that, in reflecting on their own journey, describing what has been the toughest part of losing their precious child, as well as the things that have supported them in their profound grief, their words will help other parents who also know this loss. And finally, I hope that the stories of unexpected gifts that have come, even amidst the pain, will reflect the potential for joy returning into the darkest places as we travel this path, together.

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And so, without further ado, it’s my great pleasure to introduce Douglas Evans Madsen, a boy who, starting at a very young age, everyone turned to for counselling which has led to his mum so beautifully describing him as ‘A Heart with Ears.’

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TEARS…what has been the saddest, hardest and worst part of losing your son?

My son, Douglas, shed his earth suit from the disease of addiction. My sorrow has been deeply rooted within my powerlessness over something I had absolutely no control over. Tears shed for my denial of a disease I did not understand because it was not alcohol, nor substances I had some familiarity with, yet opiates. My “would have, could have and should have” moments of why I did not research the side effects I was witnessing? His breaking out into a sweat for no apparent reason being an obvious one. I recall asking him about it, and he had some skillfully crafted response that I imbibed. When I later did my research there it was in bold, glaring type. Added to my list of “worst mom moments ever.”

My shame on overdrive when asked how my son had transitioned? (Most often, not a wise question to ask the bereaved. It can be filled with so many triggers, and allowing it to be shared as people are ready to, if ever, is more compassionate.) Often my inner critic taking over, and saying horrible things to me that revolve around what kind of mother would have a child who turned to drugs? This has become my ongoing work and practice with the assistance of many skilled and loving hearts with ears.

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TOOLS…what have you found most helpful in navigating your tragedy?

The finality of Douglas’ physical presence required years to integrate on all levels. Getting my mind, body, and spirit all connected and communicating to one another took time. The time piece being absolutely the last thing that I wanted to hear, yet it has been true.

My most potent healing tool was finding other women who understand child loss as a lived experience. They are the only ones I could listen to most especially in early loss. I was closely observing, listening, and watching how they were navigating. I needed to be among them, because it was the only time I did not have to pretend, don a mask, and create explanations for something I had no language for. Yet.

I could just BE.

A tender of my heart in early loss. Barbara had lost her son, Evan, in a motorcycle accident. She helped me find the language for loss when I had no words, only lots of big feelings. She introduced me to many women who could walk beside me.

Another powerful tool was to say my son’s name in the present tense. To invite him into my daily life, to all our gatherings, and to reassure him that my sometimes glitchy heart is forever a revolving door. Also, to ask him to help me grow our mother/son relationship as it exists now. We have been learning how to companion and to work together as a team.

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TREASURE…what have you, maybe unexpectedly, discovered that has brought you joy as you’ve walked this path?

An unexpected treasure of child loss has resulted in beloved friendships with other women walking this path alongside of me. Many of whom, I doubt I would have been blessed to have met any other way. They are who took my hand, held my heart tenderly, and never with judgment. Infusing my being with needed hope.

Lincoln Ure, no longer earth side, yet one of my most beloved mentors before and after loss. A warm and caring heart with ears. He was an Episcopal priest, and the clinical pastoral care supervisor in the hospital where I trained to become a hospital chaplain.

“Listen to the wind, it talks. Listen to the silence, it speaks. Listen to your heart, it knows.” ~ Ojibwe Prayer

Joanie offers mentorship to women who are seeking companioning with life’s challenges and can be found on her website www.spacetofeelings.com

This website also links to articles offering support and solace to grieving parents.

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And finally, Joanie’s question to me:

Esther, a deep bow to you for this invitation. What is it you would like us to know most about your precious son, Dom?

It’s incredibly important to me that Dom is recognised for being someone who tried so hard to stay in this world. Leaving us was not something he did on a whim, I feel sure of this. I believe it was the result of feeling he’d run out of options. It helps me to remember this when I find myself focusing on the events surrounding his death. And it encourages me to stop ruminating on what might have been and instead to be grateful for the 30 years we had him, earthside.

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Thanks so much for taking time to read this post in the collaboration Tears, Tools and Treasure. I’m delighted that so many parents will be taking part in this, choosing to generously share their own personal journeys.

If you are a bereaved parent and would like to join them, please DM me.

And if you would like to subscribe to see more posts from bereaved parents, the button is below.

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You’ll find my own free posts at Losing My Son to Suicide, Hope, Healing and Joy . I always appreciate new subscribers and my work being shared, thanks.

Esther x