Letting her go brings it all back
As I put her on the plane and drove away, my mind went back to 2022 — when we dropped her off in Orlando for her Disney College Program. Her first foray as a Disney employee.
I remember the mix of emotions I felt at that time. Happy and sad. Anxious and relieved.
At just 20 years old, Gracie was five years out from losing Molly. She is ten years out now, and while she is clearly a well-balanced and successful young lady, she is still the surviving sister. Parenting a surviving child after child loss carries its own weight, even years later.
Which brings me back to May 2nd, 2016, and a 4:00am drive to Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center. We were driving toward an experience that I knew in my heart would be Molly’s death.
Gracie sat in the front seat, desperately clinging to every word I said as absolute truth. Her whole world had just blown up. Regardless of every hopeful outcome, nothing would be the same.
Parenting through grief never stays in the past
So here we are, almost ten years later, and I am left to ponder the winding and bumpy path of my young daughter’s life. All her trauma. Her trials and tribulations. Her incredible successes and accomplishments.
I sit here today, on the same (yet very different) porch on which I sat so many times with Molly and Gracie, feeling a bit numb. Not without feeling numb — quite the opposite actually — more the so full of feeling I can no longer feel kind of numb.
Parenting through grief doesn’t resolve itself with time. It changes shape. It follows you forward, into moments you never expected to still hurt.
Parenting through grief is unpredictable and dichotomous.
She is building a life far away
She is on day three of her next adventure and, from all reports, having a great time. A friend circle. A cute apartment. A job she loves, with a routine that is familiar even with its international differences.
She is in France.
I pretend she is in Orlando, simply working the night shift. This is part of how I manage motherhood after child loss — by softening the edges when I can.
Protection does not equal safety
Many mothers who have suffered child loss become extremely cautious and overprotective with their remaining children. Parenting after child loss can turn vigilance into a full-time job.
While I am certainly somewhat cautious with Gracie, all the “protecting” in the world will not keep her safe or bring Molly back. Parenting through grief has taught me that control is an illusion.
Molly’s death was a brick in the face, out of nowhere. There is nothing I can do to prevent a potential next brick.
I remember when I lost Baby Gordy. I naively thought that I could check “traumatic child loss” off my list. The death of one child does not preclude the death of another.
But back to Gracie — and the reality of parenting a surviving child who is now an adult.
Watching her become who she is
She has had her first day of training, which is called Traditions. She is going through her systems day today — setting up payroll accounts and scheduling apps, learning the expectations and benefits that come with her role as a cast member there.
She has let me know that life in France is so different (and better) that she may never come home. While this makes me happy, I am quite sure I will want her to come home one day.
Tomorrow she will go through character training, costume fittings, and all that goes with being “friends with” Princess Anna. I cannot wait to hear all about this.
Surviving sibling grief doesn’t disappear when life gets exciting. It just learns how to live alongside joy.
The motherhood I lost, and the one I’m still living
One of the hardest parts of dealing with Molly’s sudden death was instantly losing two years of motherhood. Molly was in 7th grade when she died. I lost the next five years with her — three of which would have been with Gracie.
Yes, I know, I am still Gracie’s mother. But kids-at-home parenting was suddenly much closer to ending. Parenting through grief accelerated endings I wasn’t ready for.
This created panic attacks in the middle of the night that were crippling.
I believe a big trauma-related piece of my desire to have Jack was connected to this aspect of my loss. He keeps us busy and grounded and entertained. There are times when I wish I had more free time, but in general I do not do well in an unscheduled reality.
And Jack is a miracle in so many ways.
A corner turn I can’t ignore
As far as parenting is concerned, this next part of Gracie’s life is a corner turn for me. She will be 25 this year. A true grown-up. Parenting adult children in grief looks nothing like I expected, but here we are.
So we will fly to France. We will visit our Gracie. We will travel around Europe together when she is free. Our next journey as a family will be an international affair.
I wonder sometimes — if Molly had not died — would they be doing this together? Or would they be doing something entirely different?
The “what ifs” and “if onlys” persist, even as Gracie’s coronation day gets closer.
“Do you want to build a snowman?
It doesn’t have to be a snowman… okay bye.”
