I saw a post the other day on Facebook that stated: a child who loses their parents is an orphan. An adult who loses their spouse is a widow or widower. What is a parent that loses a child? According to writer, Karla FC Holloway, the word is “vilomah,” which means ‘against natural order’ in Sanskrit. Makes sense, I guess. At least, that is one interpretation. I choose to continue looking for a more appropriate word.
To me, determining the natural order is not something we can prove in this case. Who decides the natural order of things? It isn’t me. The fact my son died first went against my hopes and wishes, but I am not the one who decides the order of the universe. Mother Mary lost a son. It was written in the scriptures. Maybe my son’s was too. When it is commented that it is wrong to bury a child, I feel guilty for outliving mine. Of all things we feel, guilt is already among the top! I don’t want others putting that on me more than I have myself! Not to mention, our only guarantee at birth is death. Period. That IS the natural order: we are born and we die. So I opted to continue searching for a better word to describe this situation.
I choose the word “incomplete.” I will be incomplete until we meet again in Heaven. Parents in my situation are like a bicycle tire that is missing a spoke; a table with three legs that needs a brace where the forth leg was; a puzzle that will never be able to put the missing piece in its designated spot; a street with a pot hole that causes a bump every now and then that rattles us. We still function and look very close to our original state, but a piece is missing. Incomplete.
Never again will I be a whole family, even as additions are made through the birth of grandchildren and marriages. Never again will a complete family photo be taken. Never again will my children be in the same room together on Earth. Never again will my heart not have a hole in it. I could go on and on and on. Incomplete.
We can search ancient languages and find words that have similar meanings. We can create a word that sounds good, you know like they did with words for Ebonics. That language was not identified until 1973. But, I believe there is already one in Webster’s dictionary. I stand by my original claim. I am incomplete.
Until we meet again in Heaven, I will always be incomplete and missing my son. I will recall the days I was complete and whole. I had him in my life for 24-1/2 years! I will savor those moments and years in my heart. And as always, I cry because he is gone, but I smile because he was here!
#vilomah #incompletewithoutyou #missingpuzzlepiece #lostchildcreatesahole