Coping with Loss - a Child's Perspective

Coping with loss is never easy, especially for a young child. I remember my father passing away. I was at the tender age of six, and didn't quite understand what was happening. My father was diagnosed with colon cancer in July, 1992, about a month after my sixth birthday. Of course, I had no idea what colon cancer was, or what exactly was going on. I could tell he was sick, but I had no idea of the severity of it all. The cancer had spread so much that there was no saving him. He was going to die.

My mother sent me to live with my grandmother in late July. I was rarely allowed to go home, and I missed my family. My mum came to visit about once a week, and I cried every time she left. I felt abandoned and lonely. I thought she didn't want me anymore. What had I done wrong? As a child, I was very attached to my mother. She was my world, and without her, I was lost. Eventually, in early August, she took me home to see my father.

I was so excited and happy to be allowed home, but when I walked into that house, I knew something was terribly wrong. The man sitting on the couch wasn't my dad. There was no smile on his face, no joy in his eyes. He looked like a skeleton. It's amazing how quickly his body deteriorated. He was hooked to an oxygen tank, and a catheter tube ran from underneath the colorful afghan that enveloped him. My mum whispered, "Don't be afraid." Despite her reassurance, I remember being very frightened as I took a step closer. My mum took his thin, cold hand and told him, "Our baby's come to see you." My dad didn't move, didn't say a word. When I got close enough for him to see me, he just stared. A blank, vacant stare. I was terrified.

On the ride back to my grandmother's house, my mum tried comforting me. "He's very sick, sweetie. He doesn't remember anyone." The cancer had taken his brain, and most of the time he didn't even know who he was. I was overcome with grief, confusion, and despair. How could he not remember me?