Grieving the Unimaginable: When a Child Dies

The natural life expectancy today is just over 72 years. As we move closer to having lived many decades, perhaps even nearing a century, we and our loved ones may begin to befriend the thought that life will one day come to an end. This inevitable truth often invites us to practice daily gratitude and see each day as a gift. Eventually, many follow their heart more than their head, bringing long-held dreams to life, planning another trip, or preparing for their “final journey”. However, I assume you would not likely prepare for the fact, that your child might leave this Earth before you, would you? So, even if a parent reaches 92 and loses a child at 72, such loss is not less painful and can’t be measured in years. It still feels unnatural. Unfair. Wrong. No parent ever expects to bury their child.

While we may, in some way, prepare ourselves that one day our parents will die, we rarely—if ever—prepare for the death of our children. And yet, death is a part of everyone's life. It is natural, and it is random. This truth, however, does not make the loss any easier to bear.

As a mother and as a grandmother, I know the many layers of love, connection, and meaning that come with having children. The mere thought that one of my children could die aches my heart. When I sit with you, as a parent grieving the death of your child, I say: I cannot feel the pain in the way you do. My role is not to sooth your loss, nor will I be able to take your pain away. My role is to be present and to create a safe and compassionate space where your grief can be expressed freely, without judgement. With wholehearted care and deep respect for your devastating loss and profound pain, I walk alongside you as you slowly begin to navigate towards acceptance. My role is to guide you in integrating your loss into your life and finding meaning in the days ahead.

Each grief experience is unique, and yet they all carry the same weight: the loss of a child is devastating, and no one is ever prepared for it. It is said that a parent’s love is the deepest kind of love, one we trust will last forever. And I believe it does. The moment your child died—whether through an accident, illness, or other tragic circumstances—love does not end. Over time, and in your own way, you may come to feel that this love beautifully continous to live within you. It remains a part of you—as it always has been. It is present in the way you walk through life and in how you carry the essence and legacy of your child forward. The time you shared with your child—no matter how long or short—was, and will always be, deeply meaningful.

And when you are ready, you might find ways to create meaning from that love. This may look like supporting a cause connected to your child’s life, raising awareness, or simply living in a way that honors who they were. There is no timeline and no expectation—only what feels true for you.

For many, pregnancy-related losses bring an additional layer of complexity and pain. These losses are often described as ambiguous grief or disenfranchised grief—grief that is not always fully seen or acknowledged by others. This can include miscarriage, stillbirth, abortion, or infertility.

Perinatal grief is especially profound, as it touches the entire family and brings with it many secondary losses. Parents are not only grieving the child they will never meet and watch growing up, but also the dreams they held—the life they imagined, the moments they longed for, and the future they had already begun to create. Grandparents, too, bear an aching loss, as they grieve the missed opportunity to care for and cherish this new family member in their special ways.  Siblings grieve the loss of a future companion, a playmate, someone who would have walked alongside them through life—sharing, relying on each other, and forming a deep everlasting bond. Each of these individual grieving experiences ripple through the entire family structure.

When a child dies, grief does not remain in one moment—it unfolds over time and revisits you. There will be days that carry a heavier weight than others. Milestones such as birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, as well as witnessing the life moments of other children, can become painful reminders of your loss. It can be helpful to gently prepare for these moments. Triggers may arise not only through events, but also within your relationships—especially with your partner, your parents, your other children. In those moments, offering yourself grace and compassion becomes essential. You may choose to honour these days of remembrance through rituals or traditions. Alternatively, you may choose to move through them quietly. There is no right or wrong—only what feels supportive for you.

Grief is deeply individual. No two people grieve in the same way. Each family member has their own way of processing their loss and their own needs as they continue moving through life and those needs need to be honoured. Within a partnership, the death of a child can deepen connection, or it may create challenges that lead to distance. One person may need to talk, while the other withdraws into silence. One may express emotions openly, while the other cannot even find words. This does not mean one is grieving more or less—it simply means each person grieves differently. In these situations, it can be helpful for each partner to have their own support system—a space where they can be held in their own experience, without expectation or comparison. While it is true that some relationships struggle after the loss of a child, it is often not the loss itself that separates partners, but the judgment of each other’s way of grieving. With understanding, compassion, and time, a loving partnership can endure even this depth of pain.

Please remember, you do not have to carry this weight alone. Whether you seek support individually or as a couple, I am here to sit with you, to listen, and to gently support you through this heartbreaking and deeply human experience—step by step.