Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I hate it when something happens and old feelings are resurrected from what I thought were long buried.
The recent death of William Yau sent everyone reeling.
Parents felt the sharp pangs of fear gripping them. Brothers/sisters everywhere imagine or try to imagine what losing a sibling feels like. People sob, cry, rant and rave.
Then the unbelievable happens (at least for me). People start blaming the parents.
Why does it always have to be this way?
Don't they know that the parents are already going through hell?
Finding William dead doesn't bring closure in any form. It heralds a beginning of millions of seconds thinking, re-thinking about that day. It is the start of living, re-living the events of that fatal day.
Even if any child died of natural causes, the parent still goes through the trauma of that day. Each painful memory runs through the mind at the speed of light. These thoughts criss-cross and overlap until sometimes one cannot know what is real anymore. It is unimaginable unless you have lost a child.
William's parents are grieving.
Why don't people just give them a nudge and say "take care"?
The excruciating pain of losing a child is enough, if you want to judge them.
So will you nudge or judge?