Is it bodywork, mind-work, or emotional work? I think it’s all of that, and also quite some trauma-work. There are many ways of how to lose a child or even all your children: a fatal accident, a terminal illness, running away from home, growing up and leading their own life, a divorce and having access denied, or just simply they abandoning you not wanting to have contact with you any longer for what ever reason, reasons that are often mostly unclear to you.
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Whatever the case. Whatever the generation-gap. Whatever the cause. Whatever wrong perceptions. Well, it hurts. It follows you. You dream about it. Nightmares. You need to digest and get over it. Accept it. You can try to reconcile if the child is still alive, but if that doesn’t work — what does it take to go on, to survive?
It takes courage, reflection, acceptance, intelligence, love, understanding the flow of life. One needs to be able to let go. To move on. To get on, to live life — for oneself. Just as they will need to do — sooner or later. Because the break will hurt them also.
You know, someone I acquainted in the past told me that I would end up alone with my kind of attitude. And she was right. I will end up alone because I stand for my principles and insights, I stand for honesty, I stand for keeping myself sane, and I don’t want to be bullied. Not even by my children. I don’t take shit and I do not want to take shit.
A child, my child is a human being, like I am. And when that child becomes an adult, it should show respect, just like I show respect towards them. I am honest, clear, and open. No false sentiments. No false statements. No hidden agenda. It’s what I expect — require — from them likewise. That may sound hard, but … hey … I’m just a person also.
When my child has become an adult, we have become equals. I do not owe them anything, neither does the child owe me. We need to find common ground, love if that is possible, or just mutual understanding and respect, despite — or perhaps because — of our common history. A common history that binds, often blinds, or pushes away, but still a common history.
Not wanting to be bullied, not wanting to be a slave of your children, not wanting to fall in the obnoxious guilt-trip comes with a price. And mostly the price is abandonment and loneliness; the permanent loss of contact with your children. It is how it is. There’s no fairy tale here. You’ll need to live with it — or better — through it, just as I did and still every goddamn single day do.
