The purpose is partly to realize this question, and seek a answer. There is so much more to life then what you describe, and it really has nothing to do with what you describe.
It is pursuit of live, self discovery and finding out we are part of a very large family, no one is a orphan, or likewise cut off.
It is discovery of Love as a living entity and us as Love’s children.
I think this is my favorite entry in this thread to date.
**Clu - **I am so sorry for your loss. I can understand why you are feeling like this - I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of losing a child. I do, however, know the siren song of the open window.
Clu-
I too am saddened by your loss. I am a first time father, and I have often said (said today, as a matter of fact) that my daughter is the reason I get out of bed in the mornings.
Obviously she’s not… I was getting out of bed daily for years. I think I’m so giddy with love and affection for not only her but with fatherhood, that I can’t wait to get up the next day and see what it brings.
Before she was born, I had other things keep my attention. I didn’t miss being a parent because I never was one. And I never felt like my life was worthless because I didn’t have children. Now that I do, I can’t imagine life without her, but I try not to think about it.
I hope this makes some sense. I truly do feel your loss. I hope a random stranger on the internet makes you feel a bit more connected with life as we know it here… on earth… the only existence we know. Who knows how your life might change tomorrow? I for one, hope that the sun shines down on you in a different way tomorrow, and brightens your reasons for being.
Clu-Me-In, I am very sorry for your loss also and regret even more my flippant answer upthread.
I recall at times like this something that the actor David Niven said in one of his autobiographies. His beautiful young wife died in a freak accident during a game at a friend’s house, leaving him without her and their children without their mother. He said that getting over the grief takes a long time, but that with each passing day it imperceptibly gets better, until one day you find yourself smiling at something where once you thought you’d never smile again.
In other words, grief is devastating but it does eventually subside, and as Niven was eventually able to do, I hope that you are able to find happiness and new loves in the future to accompany the love you lost but which will still be with you always.
Clu - I am so very sorry for your loss. That additional information definitely puts your question into a greater context. I think for you the question is really “why should I continue my life given the loss I’ve sustained?”
I cannot imagine, in my darkest thoughts, the pain that your loss created. Through observing others who’ve survived the same loss, I can say that for them, the purpose of life does return. Their purpose is often very different after their loss than before it, but most of them have been able to identify a modicum of peace and meaning after, or within, their suffering.
Wes Scantlin who is in the band Puddle of Mudd wrote a song, Blurry, which was played on the radio and MTV in 2002. That year was the year I was in community college. It was after my four years in high school but before my four years at university. I was at a crossroads in my life. It was an interesting time in my life and I kind of had the feeling that I was between things (high school and college). That song was unworldy, it described how I felt about people, about the world, how I felt about everything. It was where I was in my life. The rage in the song, yet the uplifting spirit of that song, the rift, the contemplative melody. I felt a bit like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole. I remember where I was driving listening to that song, the weather, what I was wearing, everything. Surreal.
I remember sitting in the cafeteria between courses with friends I met in class. They were both in the philosophy class, the girl, the guy, and me. I still remember them. We recieved an A in the course. Talking about Descartes, about politics, about everything. And I was thinking about high school, where my high school friends, teammates, classmates were. The girl was also in a sociology course last year. I remember the day after 9/11 when the teacher, who in the previous introductory lesson wrote on the board about how there is no such thing as objective truth, Truth with a capital T, whatever. That same teacher showed emotion during the next class session. I remember her, too. Funny how events can change people, especially teachers. I’ll always remember the biology teacher’s 9/11 speech. I was still forming my political theories and I didn’t realize until later that he was a conservative. I thought about the kid who was into the military how he would go overseas, I thought about my teammates.
I remember sitting in the library, in the quiet reading room. Reading.
I graduated from high school and I graduated from community college. I guess I was happy those five years.
I learned later on that Wes Scantlin wrote the song, Blurry, for his son Jordan who died. I never knew.
What I did know was that the lyrics described how I felt:
…nobody told me what to say
everyone showed you where to turn
told you when to runaway
nobody told you where to hide
nobody told you what to say…
**Clu-Me-In **- I am deeply sorry for your loss. I didn’t know.
The reason for my continuing to live are:
I’m really enjoying life, and no matter what else I can say, if I weren’t alive, I wouldn’t be enjoying it.
Hopefully, other humans will benefit from my being here and engaged. Helping others is a good thing.
In the grand scheme of things, hopefully I’ve advanced from where my parents were, and prepared my children to do the same…generation upon generation.
Learning and experiencing life is grand thing, and remains one of the few constants in my life.
Observing my soul getting “old” is inspirational (the same is not true for my body getting old, however)
FWIW, I don’t think Scantlin’s son actually died I think he just lost custody.
Reading the OP I figured there was more motivating the question, when I got to page 2 I saw that there was. No idea what to tell you. I look at all the pain I’ve had in life, and I know it wouldn’t compare to the pain of losing one of my nieces (I don’t have kids of my own).
I am so sorry for your loss. I never had to experience something like this and my heart goes out to you. I have had friends that lost a child and I realize it is a very difficult thing to bear.
I’ve been going through some serious mental/emotional pain lately, and sometimes the only answer I can think of is that this experience will help me grow. I can learn some valuable lessons from this. And one day, I won’t feel bad any more, and I’ll be able to use those lessons to make my life better.
When the joy feels far away, that’s all I’ve got.
Sorry to hear that you experienced such a tragedy. Something that helps me cope with tragedies is to try to find some way to bring a positive out of the tragedy. Maybe a way to still give yourself a legacy in the future generations would be to think about doing something like tutoring or mentoring disadvantaged children who have likely also experienced loss and trauma in their lives. That would be a way to give your life meaning and honor your son’s memory.