The Ghosts of Grief

My husband and I just returned from a long trip – away from our home, away from all the reminders of our son’s life and death. One would think that being ‘away’ from those physical cues would minimize, or even alleviate, the consistent thoughts and feelings of our now-absent loved one. But it doesn’t.

I don’t know whether that is something to lament or cherish. I find both emotions surface at alternate times. What did strike me while we were away – away with our daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughters having lots of fun and constantly occupied – was that as soon as I had a moment alone and still, my son returned to center stage.

And it reminded me of a friendly ghost – those ones I grew up seeing in old cartoons and movies – the ones that continued to visit their loved ones and prompt them to do something, or help relieve them of guilt, or reassure them of their love.

What made me especially think of this connection was that I found myself saying inside “Not now – I don’t want to think about you now – it’s too emotionally draining, and I need to stay in the present with those I can actually love and be with now.” And, surprisingly, I find that I am able to push the memories and sense of his presence aside. The ‘ghost’ vanishes, at least temporarily. This is definitely a progression in grief. For the first year or two after JL’s death, I was not emotionally able to make this choice. Many times I was physically present with those around me but emotionally re-living some moment from the past.

It causes me to wonder if the real reason I am now taking this step is to avoid pain and if so, does that pain mean I have unfinished business with my son’s death? I’ve thought much about this and believe that is not the reason. It is more just avoiding the pain that surfaces with reminders of my son and a life cut short. And I think that pain will always be present because death, although it is our common fate, is not how things should be. I believe we are beings who were created for unending life and everything in me longs for the actual reunion I will someday have with my son, whatever that may look like.

I never want to lose the sense of my son’s presence, and the reminders of his life. So, I’m OK with the occasional ‘ghost’ appearing in my mind, even at inconvenient times, and accept it as part of the cost of life, love, and death.

Author: Jude DiMeglio Trang

My husband, John, and I are parents of a young opiate addict who died of an accidental heroin overdose at 25. These are our credentials for writing and working towards reversing the exponentially rising statistics for opiate addiction and deaths in our country and the world. View all posts by Jude DiMeglio Trang