Last Friday I saw parts of Oprah.  It was a rerun from the previous summer featuring a family coming home from a wedding in a limo which was struck head-on by a drunk driver.  Their little 7 year old daughter was killed.  The theme, of course, was not to drink even one drink and drive.  I was struck by something the parents and grandparents said during the show which was taped two years after the crash.  They said they avoided holidays or other previously fun family times because they couldn’t enjoy them without Kate.  That there was no joy in their lives now, though they had two surviving children.

I wanted to take that family in my arms and comfort them.  And though I can’t imagine losing a child, and know that it is oh so much more heartbreaking than our loss of a parent, I wanted to hug them all and tell them that yes, this is how you feel at two years, and it might still be how you feel at three years, or four.  But sooner or later you’re going to surprise yourself by suddenly realizing that something made you laugh and it was OK to do that.  Or something made you think of Kate and feel warm, and that was OK too.  That you don’t have to go on forever in the dark place.  Sometime, sooner or later, you will let the light shine back in. 

Someday you will figure out that being happy isn’t disrespectful to the one you loved.  Smiling at a pretty day or laughing at a joke doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten.  You’ll never forget.  The pain is always there, but it will be just a bit softened.  Someday you will let a tiny bit of happiness creep back into your life.  And that is the day that your recovery begins.   Recovery doesn’t lessen the worth of your family member, recovery adds value to your life, and to the memories you have.

Someday you will let yourself be happy.  And that’s OK.