Emine Saner’s article on grief mentions the “especially profound” loss occasioned by the death of a child (‘It’s like the loss happened yesterday’: prolonged grief is now a disorder in the US – so how long is too long to mourn?, 16 June). As a former coordinator of bereavement services at Great Ormond Street hospital, I was privileged to work for more than 20 years with parents bereaved of a child in many circumstances – not only parents of children who had suffered an illness, and not only those of young children. The death of an adult child occasioned much the same reaction of despairing grief in the surviving parents.
Almost universally mentioned by the hundreds of parents contacting the service was the reluctance to acknowledge the concept of “moving on”, with its connotation of “forgetting”. Careful reassurance was needed that “moving on” would focus on remembering the child and valuing the parent’s way of incorporating their memories into their continuing family life.
Many had had experience of friends and professionals suggesting to them after a year or so that, for example, leaving the child’s room and possessions untouched, or making a birthday cake on their birthday, was odd or indeed pathological.
The experience of many bereaved parents was that they only began to envisage some future positivity or even happiness at about four to five years after their bereavement. All acknowledged that there would be painful times and reminders for the rest of their lives. It is important that professionals can recognise those who are suffering depression or experiencing suicidal thoughts, but the majority of parents may resent their grief being labelled as unduly prolonged or pathological.
Jean Simons
Lewisham, London
My husband died four and a half years ago, and shortly after his death I joined a bereavement support group run by the local hospice, which has been enormously valuable. Over time grief becomes more manageable, but it doesn’t go away. And while we can and do get on with life, there is always a hole in the centre in the shape of the departed loved ones. Part of the value of the group is that it is a safe place to say things that are difficult to say even to close friends. We have a WhatsApp group, and if anyone is having a bad day they have only to post that, and messages of love and support come flowing. A saying we have is: “It’s OK to feel not OK.”
I hope that any bereaved person has access to a support group, if not in person then at least online. It really does make a difference.
Louise Rendle
Wood Green, London
I have dealt with the bereaved for 40 years as a parish priest. I deduced that people had varying levels of defence mechanisms. Some were so strong that they would shrug their shoulders and say: “Life goes on.” Others were overwhelmed. In the middle of this spectrum were those who would function relatively well day to day, but every so often would experience a burst of grief.
In her 1975 book Death and the Family: The Importance of Mourning, Lily Pincus, who worked with the Tavistock Clinic, describes two sorts of marriage: in one, people marry someone identical to themselves; in the other, they marry someone who is the opposite. In the first, when a partner dies it is as if they themselves have died. In the second, where people complement each other, the surviving partner copes much better with the loss.
Rev Cecil Heatley
Bromley, London
