The Gift of Choice

By Michael Datz,
former WinterSpring's Children's Program Coordinator

A brief definition of the gift of choice is the ability to select among different options based on an evaluation of ones needs and desires. These rather dry words belie the importance most of us attach to this simple but powerful gift. Our basic sense of personal freedom and peace of mind are anchored in this simple notion. Yet, when one’s child dies, so many things die, including our appreciation of free choice as a meaningful part of life. Suddenly thrust into a confusing and stunningly bleak landscape, free choice seems totally irrelevant when simply waking up to face another day feels like a cruel irony. What are some of the choices we must now make? Choosing the format of a memorial service, choosing how and when to contain one’s emotions, as well as how to grieve publicly and privately, choosing what to hold onto and what to sorrowfully let go.

Life challenges us to simply survive, and perhaps this choice is the first significant fork in the road that determines what the rest of one’s life looks like. Those that choose survival do so for various reasons. Some opt for surviving because their other children provide a reason to live, some because of religious beliefs that psychically remove the option of quitting life, and many are challenged repeatedly to confront this decision, a drama which can strengthen or erode one’s resolve to live.

It is almost impossible at this point to imagine that the choice to survive is not only a first step on the path towards healing, whatever that might be, but also an opening to the possibility that our loved one’s death will provide the flame that will melt our fears of life itself. For healing is not just a matter of finding a reasonable way to put the past behind oneself. While fear and pain might prompt us to look for the short cut through grief, allotting ourselves so many days to resume our normal activities, we must honor our loss by acknowledging the depth of our connection and debt to the deceased. When we grieve and publicly mourn, we are in a sense saying that though our heart has been torn apart by this loss, we are also determined that the gifts we have been given by our children will live on. There are no easy answers, and no absolutes either, in this mystery of loss and connection. When one chooses to honor this mystery, compassion for oneself and others becomes possible. The path that I have been gifted to choose relating to my son’s death is to honor his memory by choosing life over despair, courage and risk over self-doubt and connection over alienation. Sometimes I am more successful at following this path, but when I get lost, I also believe that my son would want me to choose self-compassion when I am not able to rise to this challenge. And for this and many other continuing gifts, I thank him as he helps me to understand our time together as a magical gift.

Adapted from a presentation for Children's Memorial Day, December 12, 1999
(Compassionate Friends)