I had a ban on all terminology that conveyed death and loss. Saying “my daughter died” was literally impossible. But so was using the phrase “my daughter passed away” or “we lost our daughter”. I avoided phrases such as “I almost died…” or “I would kill for…” or “I died when…”.

"How can we help?" is a question often asked of us. All people are different so what worked for us might not for someone else. But if you’re stuck wondering what to do, here are some things that we've found helpful during our tragic journey.

Do I have a new code of moral ethics that rationalizes selfishness for my survival?

Is it better to not know about a deadly disease and die having lived a happy life or to know about it and be able to have hope for survival?

Now and again you might think “what if” something happened to my child but you quickly dismiss the thought because it is too painful and frightening to imagine; it strikes a nerve so deep that you avoid the subject at all costs.

It is a natural feeling to want to connect with your loved one after death. There is a need for reassurance that they are o.k. no matter what you may or may not believe.

We recognize how difficult it must be for others to know how to behave around us. It’s like walking on egg shells trying to say the right thing or not say the wrong thing to us, the emotionally fragile parents.

We are not the people we used to be nor will we ever be again. No longer do we look at life the same. There is a shadow, a darkness that envelops all that we see.

In recent weeks, a local story about a child who went missing from her home has been a topic of many news stories. Her town spent a week searching for her and I watched the story unfold with a heavy heart. An autopsy was conducted and results are still pending.

I never quite knew why women would wail after a death of a loved one. It’s a cultural difference and/or a religious difference, I always thought. But now I understand. It's a physical response to grief.