It’s been about a year and a half since we lost our son, Scott, to mental illness. During that time, I have learned a great deal about love, loss, and grief. I thought my loss was becoming a distant memory—that I would be okay. But then came Independence Day and the news of a wall of water cascading down a swollen river in the Texas Hill Country, killing at least 137, many of them children. And, like that wall of water, my grief came flooding back.  

If that wasn’t enough, earlier this week, I learned about another school shooting at a Catholic school in Minnesota, where two children, ages 8 and 10, were killed and at least 14 others were injured. The shooting occurred during a Mass at the school.

I cried when I heard the parents of the children who died in the Texas flood testify before the Texas legislature about their loss of children who died too soon, with their lives so much still ahead of them. So many what-ifs. So many memories that should have been formed, but will never be now. There are parents, families, and friends in Minnesota who now share the same grief.  Mayor Jacob Frey of Minneapolis said, “Children are dead, there are families that have a deceased child, you cannot put into words the gravity, tragedy, or absolute pain of the situation.” He added, “Don’t just say this is about thoughts and prayers right now. These kids were literally praying.”

This has got to stop. But I will save a discussion about gun violence for another time.

Where is God in all of this? In Texas, most of the lost children were at a Church camp! In Minnesota, the children were attending Mass! But I learned a long time ago that God doesn’t often intervene where I think He should. I sometimes joke that, if I ever get to heaven, I’ll be like Ricky Ricardo after Lucy did something foolish in I Love Lucy. “God, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do!”

Was I grieving over these kids and their parents? Or was this my own grief over the loss of my son all over again? I suppose it was some of both.

Elizabeth Kϋbler-Ross developed the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, although she would be the first to say that her stages are not a universal template. I don’t believe I followed her exact template. Instead, from my own experience, I have felt periods of sadness, anger, what-ifs, blaming, and more sadness.

At times, I have felt an overwhelming sadness that Scott is not a part of things like birthdays, graduations, weddings, anniversaries, and other events that we often take for granted. But sometimes, it’s the little things that are worse. I miss sharing a sporting event with him, his corny laugh, his gentleness with his kids, and even his crooked nose. So much reminds me of him. I relate so much to this scene from the film, The Sky is Everywhere,[i] which is the story of a teenager grieving over the death of her older sister:

How do people do it, staring at beds that are no longer slept in, no longer buying a particular kind of cereal, or listening to a favorite song? I have felt those same emotions. I have felt as if my heart has been ripped to shreds as well.

At first, I felt like all the little things reminding me of Scott were just cruel. I now appreciate them, although they are often drenched in sadness. It’s those little things that keep me connected to Scott, for he is in them, whether it is my wearing of one of his shirts, watching a baseball game and remembering how good he was at it, or seeing Scott in his children. Those little things help keep Scott alive for me.

When Scott first left us, I tried to make sense of it. I couldn’t. I blamed myself, his psychiatrist, God, and Scott himself. Why would someone at the prime of his life, with a good profession, and a loving and supportive family, choose to leave it all behind? I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. I felt like this young boy in this scene from the movie, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close,[ii] grieving over the loss of his father on 9/11:

In the film, the boy spent two years visiting people named Black, trying to make sense of something that didn’t make sense to him, like why his father was killed in a building by people who didn’t even know him at all.

The boy didn’t find what he was looking for. What he found instead were many people who had their own stories of loss. Of all that we share as human beings, loss might be the most common. Or, as someone said, “Grief and love, we don’t get one without the other.” A line from one of my favorite musicals, Next to Normal, said it this way: “The price of love is loss, but we love anyway.” Because we all love, we will all grieve at some point (actually, many points) in our lives. But there is power in that shared love and loss. I was overwhelmed at the outpouring of love and concern for our family when friends, associates, and even strangers heard the news of Scott’s passing. Many did not know what to say, but simply being there gave us the strength to continue.

When I was twelve, my sister died. She was only 16. My mom never completely got over that loss. I now know how she feels. I love this scene from Rabbit Hole,[iii] and how grief stays with you forever, but becomes easier to carry around:

Like the grandmother and mother in the film, I am carrying a brick of grief in my pocket. But that’s okay, because that is what I have left of Scott. That brick might never go away, and I hope it doesn’t, for it is a good thing. That is what helps keep Scott alive in my heart.

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[i] The Sky is Everywhere:

• Production Companies: A24 and DiNovi Pictures
• Director: Josephine Decker
• Writer: Jandy Nelson
• Starring: Grace Kaufman, Jacques Colimon, and Cherry Jones
• Release date: February 11, 2022

[ii] Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close:

• Production Companies: Warner Bros., Scott Rudin Productions, and Paramount Pictures
• Director: Stephen Daldry
• Writers: Eric Roth and Jonathan Safran Foer
• Starring: Thomas Horn, Tom Hanks, and Sandra Bullock
• Release date: January 20, 2012

[iii] Rabbit Hole:

• Production Companies: Olympus Pictures, Blossum Films, and Madison Wells
• Director: John Cameron Mitchell
• Writer: David Lindsay-Abaire
• Starring: Nicole Kidman, Aaron Eckhart, and Dianne Wiest
• Release date: January 28, 2011

“Children are dead, there are families that have a deceased child, you cannot put into words the gravity, tragedy or absolute pain of the situation,” Mayor Jacob Frey of Minneapolis said at the news conference outside the school. He added: “Don’t just say this is about thoughts and prayers right now. These kids were literally praying.”