"How many children do you have?" is a horrible question for those who of us who have lost a child. Rosa, a bereaved mother tells me that her psychologist insisted that she has four children, when she said she had five. "But Shalom no longer lives with you," her psychologist said.
"Well, neither will your children when they get older."
Her therapist told her that she was refusing to face the reality of her loss. But the psychologist, I believe, is wrong.
It's true that Rosa and I have lost children. How benign the expression lost. As if we had merely gone shopping and the child had scurried off to the next aisle and we couldn't find them in the maze of twists and turns.
At first I was perplexed and a bit angry at that word. But now I realize that the word lost carries a meaning that I didn't at first understand. There is something very accurate and resonant about the term losing a child.
Jewish law teaches us something important about loss: each object has its place in the world, and when something is lost, and we find it, it is our obligation to return it. In Jerusalem, there was a place in the Temple for returning lost objects called the stone of losses. "Whoever found an object went there and whoever lost one did the same. The finder stood and proclaimed, and the other called out the identifying marks and received it back." (Baba Metzia 28b)
Our loved ones are not present physically but we are still connected to their souls.
But there is an intriguing stipulation to the laws of lost and found. Once the owner gives up hope of finding the object, there is no obligation to restore the object to the owner. And the converse is true as well.
In this way, ownership isn't just physical but also emotional. If I don't give up hope of finding something, it still belongs to me. Its place is still with me. The law tells us this: What we lose may not be returned -- but as long as we don't give up hope, it still belongs to us. It's not that I think Koby will return. Yet no parent ever separates from his child. It's also hard for a widow or widower to be asked if they're married: Our children and wives and husbands still belong to us. We don't give them up. That's why it's so hard for a bereaved parent to answer the question: How many children do you have?
We live with them and without them, at the same time. Our identity, our place in this world, is disturbed; we live in this world and in the world of memory and longing.
But we also live in the world of eternity, because the lost part of ourselves lives there now. That longing creates a reality. Our loved ones are not present physically but we are still connected to their souls.
It's true that the dead do not return. As King David said, "I shall go to him, but he will never come back to me (Samuel 2, 12:22-23)." But there is still a connection that is essential and potent. That is why there is no sense of closure. Because closure would mean that we had given up hope of being connected to them. I can't answer four children and I can't answer three. Both are true and neither are true. I live in a world that is beyond the arithmetic that is offered me in this world. I live in a world beyond counting.
This article originally appeared in the Baltimore Jewish Times.
(14) Anonymous, September 9, 2007 4:51 PM
Too many questions
My children, a daughter 14 and a son 25 died; as life for me goes on, I feel that parts of both of them reside in me. People ask me how many children do I have? I say that I lost my two. They respond with, "Oh, I know, just like everyone else - they are grown up and gone." I try to explain, but they are confused and ask too many questions.
(13) Dvirah, August 16, 2007 10:40 AM
Practical Measure
In the past when children died frequently, it was common for a woman to state that she had "3 children living", whereas she may in fact have borne seven. This "accounting" does not help with feelings of grief and loss, but it should silence proponents of "reality" such as the psychologist mentioned at the start of this article.
(12) Susan Petre, August 15, 2007 1:09 PM
You still "have" your child
The spiritual world is not governed by the laws of the physical universe. Just because your child is not physically with you does not mean he is not yours and with you in a spiritual sense.
(11) Maritta Mountjoy, August 15, 2007 7:17 AM
When I say how many children i have, usually others can't handle it.
I too have "lost" a child, but will never give up the hope of seeing his beautiful face again. I know my Father in heaven is keeping him until such a time. When I tell people that one is with my Father in heaven people usually have one of two reactions, "pity" or the "I'm sorry I asked face". I use this opportunity to tell them of the hope I have.
(10) Miriam Adahan, August 14, 2007 2:19 PM
Sherri, you are precious and your words are helpful to all of us who have suffered loss.
(9) Allan & Alicia Levine, August 13, 2007 7:55 PM
Immeasurably poignant, from great depth &giving
Sherri Mandel's writing and familygive strength to others by giving words to experience and sentiments one would hope to never know. Yet, her strength & willingness to do so is an act of tremendous hessed carrying an eloquence and depth that reveals the best in her and her family, and is both a tribute to Kobi and provides a heartfelt legacy of comfort to all who understand and care in the community.
(8) Katerina Katapodi, August 13, 2007 5:02 PM
Comments
I also had a beloved father, very gentleman, very good father in everything, whose potential was high to bear everything and suffer from everything that might be happening to him and I lost him when I was 19 yrs old-he was 56. Eversince my life has been difficult until today, because I lost my Master..but belive me I have still good communication with him, he is ''here'' always helping and advicing me, according to the life line he had given me..He always follows my steps, he is ''watching'' me from the ''Sky''(let me say so)..I am really happy, when I see that everything he was telling me about several things waw true..
Thanks You-Katerina
(7) Eleanor, August 13, 2007 1:21 PM
So what does one say.
I have buried two of my children, one at age 18 and 17 years later one at age 16. I have also buried 2 husbands. What do I answer and not sound like I am asking for sympathy or end up telling a long story to a short question?
(6) fred, August 13, 2007 11:52 AM
Not Forgotten
If it is any comfort, many, perhaps millions, of us, remember Koby, and shed a tear at the memory of his name. And, just as you have not given up hope, we also have not given up hope in the complete return to us of the land that he died for.
(5) Anonymous, August 13, 2007 9:04 AM
They aren't gone
When my husband died, my then three year old grandson said, "They go away but they stay in your heart forever." So I live and do the things that made him proud of me. With each action or mitzvah I do, he continues to live.
A wonderful article!. Thank you.
(4) Anny Matar, August 13, 2007 3:08 AM
King David's words say it all
A loss, be it a child a mother or anyone you've really been close to, who has been become your alter-ego, is an inexplicable pain which, I personally could only overcome because for me the person hasn't really left Although it's been nearly three years since, she lives in my mind's eye, is mentioned daily, is irreplaceable and the spirit is with us,my family and I have to remind ourselves "but never again".Still, we count our blessings that we have had her and ejoyed her, it was a gift which we shall cherish as long as we breathe.
The loss of a child is the worse thing that can happen to any one mostly because its incomprehensible that a child should die before its parent, it seems all wrong. My friend lost her son in Sinai 36 years ago 10 days before being released from the army, but he never left us, he was a great joy to his parents and a great brother to his sister, a gift wrapped in fine lace to all who knew him, and there he is, in his pictures, never changing, never having enjoyed life in full but he has filled my friends' lives with loving care. Whenever I think of him I think that God needed a flower in his garden so He picked my fiends' son.Every year we go to his grave (my friends go daily) and "we come to him not he to us"
Anny Matar
Israel
(3) Cheryl L., August 12, 2007 6:53 PM
As only the mother of a "lost" child could put this into words.
I too "have a son in heaven". It's been nearly 20 years since I buried him, but I never use the word "had" when I refer to him. Thank you, Sherri, for letting me know other Mothers struggle with the answer to the inevitable question of "how many children do you have?"
(2) Miriam, August 12, 2007 3:06 PM
loss of children
A nice way to remember children who have died--always with us, even if not visible.
(1) Mary, August 12, 2007 1:41 PM
thankyou - you brought tears to my eyes
as a teenager I had an aborted pregnancy. I beleive I was carrying a girl and named her. She would be 22 years old now and I've never stopped loving her.