Becoming Extraordinary
When your child dies, you’re no longer an ordinary parent. You become extra ordinary. The extra is the sorrow and suffering you must face and move through. Once you come out from the other side of this misery, you are permanently changed. You’ve gone from extra ordinary to extraordinary. Closing up the space between those two words has inexplicably opened up your brave new heart.
A piece of you is missing, but in its place is something different that has its own singular beauty. You now have the noble heart of a warrior. You are fearless, forthright, well grounded, and at peace. Your heart is healed and your empathy knows no bounds. You can speak only the truth because you know everything else is just noise. You are wiser and have learned things about life and death that most people could never imagine.
You can’t see this transformation while it occurs, just like a caterpillar can’t see that it’s becoming a butterfly. You weren’t even aware that it was going on, which is the only way it could’ve happened, and at the same time you alone made it happen.
It seems like everything about you is different, yet you are who you’ve always been—just more enlightened. You’re the 3.0 version of yourself (my friend Tony likes to call me Larry3000), an advanced and enhanced parent with an unmatched ability to connect, especially to others just like you. That connection is extraordinarily solid, sincere, considerate, and heartfelt—a perfect reflection of who you have become.
The thing about being extraordinary is that you don’t walk around feeling extraordinary. You wake up in the morning, get out of bed, go to work, come home, eat dinner, watch TV, go to sleep, and basically live your life the way you’ve always lived it. Your secret identity remains concealed. Sometimes you share it with others, but you mostly keep it to yourself. You’re okay with being Clark Kent because you know Superman lives inside you.
Your child knows this, too. One of your unique superpowers has been the ability to reestablish a whole new relationship with them. You’re now in touch with their authentic self because your hearts are doing the talking. You talk about whatever it was you always talked about, you ask advice, you gossip, or you just shoot the breeze. You tell them how much you love and miss them, and they tell you the same, and you do this every day until you meet again, and for that reason alone, you love this superpower best of all.
One of the unanticipated benefits of being an extraordinary parent is that you’re now an exclusive member of a private club. Whenever you meet another EP, you instantly recognize each other and talk in a kind of shorthand that only the two of you can understand. You are kindred spirits who are connected to each other, and your children’s spirits are united on the other side. The wonderful and surprising reward of being in this club is how good it feels to listen to and help a fellow member.
Perhaps the most valuable benefit is what you’ve learned. You’ve learned that life is short and precious. You’ve learned that if you love, you grieve, and that love never dies. You’ve learned to listen to your heart even after it was obliterated. You’ve learned that you can be happy again despite missing your child more than anything. You’ve learned that your child’s death was just the beginning of the next chapter of your life.
The funny thing about being extraordinary is that everybody you know already knows that you are. They’ve seen it every day since the day your child died.
You were the last to know.
Larry Carlat is the author of A Space in the Heart: A Survival Guide for Grieving Parents.