How a Bracelet Became My Beacon of Strength After Losing My Son

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About two weeks after my son, Lucas, passed away, a wonderful woman named Sarah slipped a bracelet off her wrist and onto mine. Her son, Jack, had died two years earlier in a tragic accident. I admired how she spelled his name and told her so, which made her smile. At that moment, Sarah was counting her grief in years, while I was still in the phase of counting in days—sometimes even minutes.

My husband, Tom, and I ended up talking with Sarah for hours. Even as I write this, tears stream down my face, pulling me back to that raw afternoon six years ago. We looked at Sarah with a mix of awe and confusion—how was she still standing here, two years later? She seemed like any other mom.

In my mind’s eye, I picture her as both stunned and peaceful, carefully choosing her words. I remember desperately wanting a magical phrase to ease my pain. I hung on her every word as she spoke about love: “Love never dies. The only thing that truly matters is love. Our love for our children may change, but it remains.”

I struggled to wrap my head around that notion, internally screaming, “That’s not true! I just want Lucas back!”

Then Sarah removed a simple silver bracelet hand-stamped with the word “LOVE,” a gift from a friend after Jack’s passing. She handed it to me, saying that when I was ready, the bracelet would find another parent who needed it.

Today, I still grapple with the fact that I don’t feel ready to pass it on, and I almost feel ashamed. I fear losing that strength it represents.

We received letters, books, and suggestions from other bereaved parents—some we found, others found us. A high school friend of mine lost her 16-year-old daughter, Emily, in a car crash. I had no idea about her loss until she reached out, sending helpful resources and an open ear.

Another friend of my mother-in-law lost her son, Mark, during the September 11 attacks. I never imagined we’d share such a tragic bond.

Countless pieces of wisdom from those in the “sad clubhouse” came our way. When something resonated, it felt like a sprinkle of hope. Some advice made sense right away; others took years to click.

“Don’t skip a step,” was a nugget of wisdom I truly appreciated a year later when I tried to force my way to feeling okay. Spoiler alert: you can’t. You’ll want to, but it just doesn’t work that way. You’ll find yourself spiraling, and I still remind myself of this when I’m pushing too hard for everyone—myself included.

“You might feel like you’re losing your mind, but you’re not,” was a mantra shared with me at Lucas’s funeral by an old friend’s mother who had lost her daughter, Lily, to cancer. Thank goodness I had that in my back pocket from day one because it couldn’t have been more accurate. The confusion and shock can be overwhelming, and it takes tremendous effort to make peace with it, which I think I’ve managed most of the time.

We discovered that mothers often led the conversations around loss, making resources for Tom a bit harder to find. About a year after Lucas’s passing, we came across a professional performer and clown (just like Tom had been before the tragedy) who lost his son, Jamie, in an accident. I reached out to him on Facebook, and to my surprise, he replied immediately with something like, “I can’t believe this happened to you.”

We’ve been friends ever since. There’s a unique language among parents who have lost children—a shorthand where no topic is too bizarre to discuss because, after all, the unthinkable has happened.

Just the other day, an acquaintance asked me for advice on what to say to her adult student whose 16-year-old daughter, Mia, had just been killed in a car accident. I’ve faced this situation before and I know I’ll face it again. I feel it’s my obligation to help, as it aids my healing too. Perhaps that “LOVE” bracelet is the reason I’ve held onto it for so long. If I had the means, I’d gift one to every hurting parent I know.

One important gift you can give to grieving parents is to say their child’s name. Never shy away from it. Hearing their child’s name feels like music to our ears—a beautiful melody, synonymous with love.

I polished the “LOVE” bracelet just last night, and I could almost feel Lucas by my side as I did.

Summary

In the wake of losing her son, the author discovers strength and solace through a bracelet gifted by another grieving mother. As she navigates her grief, she shares insights and wisdom that have helped her along the way, reflecting on the power of love and the importance of remembering lost children.