The Mask

Sometimes the mask slips and tears leak out…


© 2017 Rebecca R. Carney

This entry was posted in Death of a child and tagged , by Rebecca Carney - One Woman's Perspective. Bookmark the permalink.

About Rebecca Carney - One Woman's Perspective

My name is Becky Carney. My husband, Joe, and I have been married for 44 years. We have two living children, Eric (41) and Jenna (36). We lost a baby in utero at 19 weeks in 1987. In 2002, our middle son, Jason (19), and his best friend, Alina (20), were broadsided by a drunk driver who was going at least twice the speed limit. They both died instantly. This blog is written from my perspective as a bereaved parent. I don't claim to know what it's like to walk in anyone else's shoes. Each situation is different; each person is different. Everyone handles grief differently. But if I can create any degree of understanding of what it's like to be a parent who has lost a child, then I have succeeded in my reason for writing this blog.

5 thoughts on “The Mask

  1. It’s so hard to live with the mask on. And it’s so hard to have it come off, too. Thinking of you, Becky.
    For me, the answer was to surround myself as much as possible – with people whom I didn’t need to wear a mask with. Those who understand can bring so much comfort.
    Thinking of you with love.

  2. It is hard having to wear the mask. In some situations I remind people I have lost Danielle and it is a reality check for them. I found I could do this several years on, after the most devastating time in my life. This was usually when they were complaining about their children, which I found impossible to listen to. Thinking of you Becky. Huge hug, Janice x

    • I have found that I too have a difficult time listening to others complain – not only about their children, but about health issues, financial bothers, marital problems, work issues, . . . To me their problems all seem minor. They just don’t and never will understand our loss. For me – i will miss my son , grieve for him, and love him everyday, for the rest of my life.
      When people ask “How are you?”, I often want to remind people of his death, and want to tell them that I am sad all the time. But sometimes hesitate because they often seem to think that three years later I should be “over” it. So, I wear that mask.
      God bless all of us who have lost our precious children. I can hardly wait to be with my son, Eddie in Heaven.

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