A meditation on the loss of a child.
I have been witness to much grief in the lives of others throughout my years on God’s earth but none has ever hit me so hard as to bear the sight of a parent grieving over the loss of a child. I write this in the aftermath of another such news of a very dear child close to our family, a precious young life cut short, so reader please forgive me as I write this as much to myself as those who understand.
“Grief is the price we pay for love.”
– Queen Elizabeth II
This is a sorrow that defies the very natural order of things, a profound encompassing dark grief that creates a chasm in the lives of parents, family, and friends. It is a path no one would ever wish to walk, and for those who stand alongside the bereaved, the question of how to offer comfort can feel overwhelming. Words seem (and often we know this) wholly inadequate, and our actions can feel insufficient or futile as we yearn to lift the burden of sorrow from those we love and care for. In such times, those of us in the community of faith are called to embody Christ’s love, not with easy answers, but with a steadfast presence, rooted in the honest and hopeful narrative of Scripture.
We must be mindful that for those who grieve, the emotional landscape is one of great turmoil, a very stormy sea where waves of grief wash over them at often the most unexpected times, where feelings of anger, deep sadness, confusion, and yes a sense of betrayal by life and very often God himself are not uncommon. It is vital to understand that these emotions are not a failure of hope, faith or trust but a testament to the very depth of a love given to us by our Creator, that has lost its earthly touchstone in the person they grieve for. The Bible is replete with verses that offer comfort of course but the Psalms provide a very powerful model for this raw, honest engagement with God. The Psalmist cries out:
“I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping”
Psalm 6:6.
This is not a prayer of polite devotion but a lament from the depths of the human soul. It reveals a God who is large enough to receive our fullest and most heavy sorrow, who beckons us, encourages us to bring our shattered hearts to Him exactly as they are, without pretence, shame or show.
For those of us who seek to support the grieving person or family, personally I am reminded that the example of Job’s friends in their initial response can be very instructive.
For seven days, they simply sat with him in silence, “for they saw that his suffering was very great”
Job 2:13
Before any words were spoken, their presence was their ministry and offer of comfort.
The call for supporters is often not to speak, but to be; to listen without judgment, to sit in the silence without the pressure to fill it, to be the catcher of tears, the collector of sorrows, the connection to a world that has lost its meaning, and to offer practical, tangible help that acknowledges the weight of daily life that continues despite the crushing burden of grief.
In the treasury of our faith, we find a profound companion for those who mourn a child in the person of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Her witness at the foot of the Cross presents a sacred portrait of parental grief. She stood, witnessing the agonising death of her son, the sword of sorrow prophesied by Simeon piercing her own soul (Luke 2:35). In that moment, she did not have the solace of the Resurrection understanding; she bore only the overwhelming reality of loss. In her silent, steadfast presence, every grieving parent can find a sense of solidarity for the Blessed Mother embodies the truth that profound grief and deep faith can coexist, and her journey can bring assurance all who walk this dark path that they are not forgotten by the communion of saints not by the God who created us to love as part of who we are.
The ultimate source of comfort, however, is found at the centre of the Cross, in the person of Jesus Christ. The Christian faith proclaims a God who did not (and does not) remain distant from human suffering but entered into its darkest depths. Jesus, as foretold by the prophet Isaiah, is
“a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief”
Isaiah 53:3
He experienced betrayal, physical agony, and the profound spiritual desolation of crying,
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Matthew 27:46
This is the foundation of our hope: the grieving are not alone in their sorrow. God in Christ shares it. He is not a distant observer but a compassionate companion who sits with them in the dust of despair, He inclines his ear to their cries of anguish and sorrow for He is the one who “has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” (Isaiah 53:4). When the burden feels too heavy to carry, the promise of our faith is that the Lord is carrying it with them, and for them.
The journey of grief is long and unpredictable, with waves of pain that can rise without warning, the sudden catch of breath at the merest memory, a smell that reminds, a thought that crosses one’s mind. For the bereaved, it is a path that requires immense patience and self-compassion. There is no timeline for healing, and the love for a child who has died continues in a different form. For the community surrounding them, the call is to be patient as well, to remember that grief does not conclude after the funeral flowers have faded, and to offer ongoing support, love, and presence in the months and years to come.
The Christian narrative, while honest about the reality of pain, is ultimately one of triumphant hope. The Cross was not the final chapter and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ is God’s definitive victory over death, a promise that the grave does not have the final word. The life of a beloved child is not defined by its ending but is held securely in the eternal, loving memory of God. The vision of the new heaven and new earth offers the ultimate consolation:
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away”
Revelation 21:4
This is the certain hope that sustains the people of God – a future of complete restoration and joy where every sorrow will be healed.
In this hope, and in the shared journey of grief and comfort, the community can join together in prayer.
My prayer at this time
Heavenly Father, whose compassion never fails and whose mercies are without number, I lift before you all whose hearts are broken by the loss of a child. Surround them with your love, that they may not be overwhelmed by their sorrow but sustained by your presence and the support of a faithful community.
Grant to those who mourn the grace to trust in your loving purpose, even through their anger, sorrow and tears. As the Blessed Virgin Mary was upheld at the foot of the Cross, uphold them now in their grief. May they know that you are near to the broken-hearted, and that their beloved child is at rest in your eternal keeping.
Grant to us, their family, friends, and community, the wisdom to offer comfort not with our words, but with our listening ears and our steadfast presence. Help us to bear one another’s burdens in a spirit of gentleness and patience, reflecting your love that never fails.
Through the passion and resurrection of your Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ, you have conquered death and opened to us the gate of everlasting life. Lead us all from darkness into light, and give us the courage to hope in your promise of a day when all tears will be wiped away, and sorrow and sighing shall be no more.
We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.
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