The Hole Within


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Sometimes I feel like one of those hollowed out Easter bunnies. You know the ones. They have outer shells of varying thicknesses, but have a hollow space inside.

It seems as though life wears my outer layer thin at times. Circumstances, stress or events take chunks out of me or wear me down. I worry about the hole inside of me showing when stress overwhelms me. I worry about not being strong enough to handle what I need to handle or being able to do what I need to do to the best of my ability. You see, I have a hollow space in my life that nothing else can fill.

Most people are probably not even aware that it’s there. New people I’ve met don’t know my story and don’t know how Jason’s death impacted and changed me so greatly. They don’t know that I have a huge hole in my life. They don’t know that the “me” I am now is nowhere near as strong as the “me” that used to be before Jason died. People I’ve known for a long time assume that I’ve “healed” or perhaps filled that hole with other people or things. They would be wrong.

A child’s death leaves a hole in a parent’s life. That’s all there is to it. It gradually recedes out of public view as time goes by. But that doesn’t mean that it ever completely goes away. It doesn’t keep me from living my life, but it’s always there – sometimes closer to the surface than others.

I will always miss Jason. I will always feel like there is a space in my life where he should be, a life he should be living. I hold him close in my heart. I just wish I could also hold him close in person. I wish he were here instead of just a hole in my life where it seems he should be.

© 2013 Rebecca R. Carney

24 thoughts on “The Hole Within

  1. I’ve been thinking the very same thing. Mostly, I keep the hole in my heart and soul to myself but sometimes, like you said, during times of stress, I feel that the brittleness of my outer shell will snap. Thank you for your post.

  2. You write that “they don’t know that the “me” I am now is nowhere near as strong as the “me” that used to be before Jason died” and your words resonate, except I think that you are perhaps much stronger than you think you are and possibly even stronger than your earlier “me”. I know I am, even if I don’t always feel it or show it since my loss. Heartfelt post.

    • I agree because after losing a child I’ve figured out what is important and what isn’t worth the worry I used to give it. My yearning for Nicholas has brought a blessing in the shape of my being opened to a life after this one ends. I’m not so fearful of death anymore. That in itself brings courage.

      • I, too, am no longer so fearful of death. I know that I will see Jason again, and I look forward to that day. That doesn’t mean that I don’t see the ones I love who are in front of me or that I love them any less; rather, that heaven is very personal to me now.

  3. I hear you, Rebecca. Grief and loss do leave a hole in the heart. It never goes away; you just learn to live with it. I do wish for you peace in small, simple pleasures…the kind that really matter. It doesn’t take anything away; it just wraps a warm blanket around it.

  4. I’ve not lost a child but I can identify with the before and after “me.” God brings into our lives that which is needed to remake us. I know the deep ripping away that process entails. I am grateful loosing a child was not part of that plan for me. Here’s to the Day when we will understand why and our emptiness will be filled for good.

  5. Jason will always be part of you. The pain I don’t think can ever go away. I think one may just get used to it. I don’t know…. Life without Vic scares me. I know that nothing will EVER fill that hole in my life. Thanks you for your encouragement and support!! Hugs

  6. I can say that I haven’t experienced anything even close to the loss you experienced, but I am sure I would be able to understand the idea of feeling hollow…I can know that to lose a child leaves an impossible hole to fill. You express your feelings so well, Rebecca. I always wish you well.

  7. Thank you so much for your post. I am really excited to have found your blog (you had “liked” a post on my blog about a year ago and I was browsing through some of the followers and “likes” on my posts and came across your blog!) and look forward to reading through your previous posts and pages. My brother committed suicide 16 years ago as a young 17-year-old. My parents and I have just started a blog for suicide survivors and support for grief. I briefly read through your “about me” and smiled at how many similarities we actually have – my dad was an evangelical pastor for nearly 20 years and we used to live in gorgeous Colorado. I am excited for my mom to read your blog because I think she will connect in so many ways to your words as a mother who has lost a child. Thank you for your blog and I hope you can check out our new blog,

  8. what you have written feels like my exact thoughts… we are never the same, and will never be whole again. Thank you for sharing this… Sometimes I wish other people could understand… but at the same time, the only way to fully understand is to live it… and I wouldn’t wish this life on my worst enemy. sending you prayers for strength. xo

    • I agree. I know that others can’t understand what it’s like to lose a child until they have walked in those shoes…and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even my worst enemy. I just wish others would try to open their hearts with a measure of understanding and turn towards those who have suffered such a great loss…instead of turning away.

  9. Thank you for visiting me so I could find you. The path we walk is not the easiest, but your reasons for writing and your honesty has helped me to feel more confident about my choice to share my story. I, too, do not wish to hurt or cause pain – I only wish to promote understanding and if something I say helps just one other person, it will be worth it.

    Thanks again – I look forward to finding your posts in my reader.

  10. Yes, I feel that same exact whole you do,I was hoping it would go away one day but I guess not.
    I so look forward to the day my life ends to be with him again.I miss my son so much,but theres simply nothing to be done. It is what it is.

    Thank you for following me.I’ll be reading your blog and hope it will help me.I will let you know.

  11. I really appreciate the line, ” I will always feel like there is a space in my life where he should be, a life he should be living.” You put words to that empty feeling. That is exactly how I feel about my Madeline. It’s funny (odd) how even those closest to us can sometimes think we are “moving on” just because maybe they have. But the hole is there, it does not close. Beautifully written. Thank you.

  12. Pingback: A picture is worth a thousand words | Grief: One Woman's Perspective

  13. Pingback: Easter 2022 | Grief: One Woman's Perspective

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