Sometimes there are no words.

There are times in all our lives, as families, when we gather together and celebrate an occasion.  My own family is relatively large, so a family gathering is a loud, noisy affair. The house is filled with the clan, all dressed up and there is food and drink aplenty.  These are wonderful family occasions, and in future weeks, months and years we recall such happy days and moments with great fondness.

It is inevitable over the years that while the family may increase in size due to the arrival of partners and babies, a time comes when a significant family member is missing. In my own family our Dad has now missed more occasions than he attended. Yet with each occasion his loss is still felt. His death, too young, still a tragedy in all our lives.

Today close to my home, is a family celebrating an event. They are  a big family so a large number are gathered. The house is full of noise, and talk, food and drink. The day is fine and there are a couple of bouncy castles outside for all the younger clan members.  Within the house everyone is chatting, and there is much laughter.

However, despite the crowds, the absence of one is deeply felt. The silence of his missing screaming inside our heads. Without photo credit: <a href="">Spenser Marie</a> via <a href="">photopin</a> <a href="">cc</a>realising it we look for him, and once again feel his loss anew. A handsome cheeky boy, missing from the pack.

As I drive in the gates and see the crowd, I miss him. As I look at the bouncy castles and do not see his blond head at the top of one, doing all he is not allowed do, I miss him. As I hear them calling each others names, I miss him.  As I see his young sister wearing a locket around her neck, I miss him. As I look around his home, I miss him. I miss him everywhere that he is not.

This is the new normal for this family. Life going on, minus one. The tears so well hidden, and a world of words unspoken.  Today as I began to write this I hoped by the end I would have found some comfort. But I have not.

Sometimes there really are no words.

photo credit: Spenser Marie via photopin cc

45 thoughts on “Sometimes there are no words.

  1. Lovely, touching post, bawling here as neighbours daughter’s communion around the corner. Hope things begin to ease for you soon. X

    1. Thank you. It was a lovely day but also one in which we all missed Daniel. I suppose that is just the way it will be from now on. It was just sad to be there and experience a small measure of the loss his mom and dad and family are experiencing every day.

  2. Beautifully written. I agree…sometimes the pain is greater than any words. The fact that you are not only effected by this loss, but can empathize so sincerely with the family, shows the depth of your heart. (((hugs)))

    1. My friendship with Daniels mom goes way back, through many difficult days which we have shared, but this is so far beyond anything we could have thought was in our futures.
      It is good to be there but it is impossible to be there and not be touched by their pain, even though they are so very strong.

  3. 😦 These moments are so hard. At our Easter gathering, before the large family sang praise, we took a moment to think of the people who couldn’t be there. And the people who would surely be there if they could. Hugs to you Tric.

    1. Eternal memories, which comfort us and pain us in equal measure.
      Thanks Colleen, and remembering your families losses too. xx

    1. Oh yes so very true. I appreciate my children, my husband and all the great things (and even the not so great things) in my life so much.

  4. My Mum’s death two years ago has forever changed our family and when my youngest brother, the baby of the family, got married last year, her absence from the occasion was keenly felt. I cannot even imagine how dreadful the loss of a child is and while you write there are no words, the words you’ve chosen today capture something of the cavernous emptiness such a loss brings.

  5. I don’t think grief is ever cured. Dulled, maybe. Sad for you, my Irish friend. MIssing the little ones is always the saddest I think. It’s just not their time, you know?

    1. Yes it’s long and difficult, and as you say for his family everlasting.
      I am very aware and incredibly thankful that I have my own family all still around me, but you cannot not be touched by their loss.
      Thanks again for reading and hope your own little one is giving you a bit of a break at night.

    1. Thank you. I think in a small way having so many friends and family gathered helped to get them through and may have been a comfort, but beneath it all they are so sad. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment.

    1. Thanks for the hug, badly needed. Yesterday was lovely but so sad beneath it all, I just had to write, and in a way it did help.

    1. Thanks Olivia. It’s just the way things are. Life going on with giant holes in it. His loss is constant and I think as time goes on it gets harder, especially for his parents and family.

  6. oh, Tric, I was introduced to your blog by dear Marie and am glad I found you. you’ve written so very poignantly about the gutting pain of the absence of loved ones’ presence. when we ache so desperately to give solace, it is not wasted, even if there are no words. paying witness and feeling the loss of little Daniel’s family – it matters, it lives on in the universe and gathers strength and compassion as it melds along with the collective grief and the love we feel for them that sometimes can speak to aching and devastated hearts and help them know they are not alone. even if it’s only in a soft, fleeting whisper…you are not alone. I am so very sorry for Daniels’ family, and for you and all who struggle to offer comfort. Karen xoxo

    1. oh, Tric, please forgive me – I mistakenly referred to Daniel as “little” Daniel. and I am deeply sorry that I did not see the previous posts and would have known he was older. I am sorry if I caused you pain or annoyance at my not being more accurate.
      Karen xoxo

      1. You were right. Daniel was only 13 when he died in November. He had leukaemia However another friends son died in a climbing accident two weeks ago. He was 26. That is what has confused you. I write about dan under the bone marrow category. Thanks for your lovely comment on young Daniel. He is sorely missed.

    2. Thank you so much Karen for your kind words. They are obviously written from the heart. Daniel is very much missed and a huge loss, but for his family it is beyond anything I can even imagine.
      Thanks again for taking the time to comment. It is much appreciated.

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