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When a Parent Loses a Child, More than the Heart is Broken








“If only, if only, the moon speaks no reply;
Reflecting the sun and all that’s gone by.
Be strong my weary wolf, turn around boldly,
Fly high, my baby bird,
My angel, my only.” 

(Louis Sachar)

When a Parent Loses a Child, More than the Heart is Broken

Time does not heal all wounds. 

Some wounds run like blood through the course of our lives, tinging everything with an ache only those who share the same wound understand. Life is forever bittersweet, pain laced with joy, the upward turn of the corners of a smile masking, or at least attempting to mask, the soul-ache deep in loss that haunts.


When a parent loses a child, it is not just the heart that is broken. The soul fractures, the body splits, most of who we are soul travels with our child to wherever heaven is, and we are left hollowed-out shadows to live out our lives here. I live a dual existence, 25% earthly bound, 75% soul-bound to my son and living in the spiritual realm, heaven as I know it when I close my eyes and see Dylan’s beautiful face. 

“In my heart, you live forever, with me by my side
In my life, you’re all I ever wanted
My child, my one true love
Without you here, each day that passes
is just another day I must survive.”

Lyrics to “you’re free now child”
all right reserved, Beth Brown


You will always be red roses and white carnations, my love.



You never said I’m leaving

You never said I’m leaving, 

you never said goodbye, 

you were gone before I knew it, 

and only God knew why. 


A million times I needed you, 

A million times I cried, 

if love alone could save you, 

you never would have died. 


In life I loved you dearly, 

in death I love you still, 

in my heart you hold a place, 

that no one could ever fill. 


It broke my heart to lose you, 

but you didn’t go alone, 

for a part of me went with you, 

the day god took you home. 


-Author Unknown-



Dylan Andrew Brown and Emily Syfers, Senior Year, 2009-2010, Mosaic, Columbus, Ohio

By Beth Brown

Rememberer of dreams. Whisperer of gardens green.
At the whim of "Most Beloved" and a hot cup of tea.
I live life between, straddled here now and then,
My continuity through writing--
Pen dripping ink, mind swirling confused,
Love lingering still, and Most Beloved's purring soothes.

Blogger at "Gardens at Effingham" (where cats do the talking) and "My Forever Son" (where a mother's heart runs deep after losing her son to suicide)
Musician. Writer. Literary Connoisseur.
At the whim of a calico cat and a strong cup of tea.