The loss of a child is a grief that defies expression. It is an amputation of the heart, a void that never fills, a wound that time refuses to heal. Society acknowledges this loss, but only in the immediate aftermath. Funerals are held, condolences are offered, and then the world moves on. But for the mother who has lost a part of her very soul, life is irrevocably altered. These mothers, bearing deep invisible scars, are among us.

Whether old or young, they may be teachers, doctors, cleaners, nurses, house wives, (fill in where you have found them) all the while embodying resilience and strength despite their concealed mourning.

Their endurance should not be mistaken for recovery, as losing a child means losing pieces of the future (their future selves as well) that will never materialize. This pain, integrated into their being, underscores the human spirit’s adaptability yet reminds us of life’s fragility and a mother’s profound love.

They are everywhere, these mothers with amputated hearts. By acknowledging their pain, we offer a silent nod of respect to their suffering and to the love that endures beyond death. Let us remember that in their quiet strength lies a profound lesson in humanity – a lesson of enduring love, resilience, and the unspoken bonds that connect us all in the face of unimaginable loss.¹

They Are Everywhere.

We Are Everywhere!

Nine months without my son Roger Cardoso
04/19/1989 – 06/10/2024

1. This text was crafted with the support of ChatGPT, and the image generated with DALL-E, both AIs developed by OpenAI. ︎

The text below is from another mother who also lost her son to Testicular Cancer and since then has been relentless in creating TC Awareness. I use my pain to expand her voice and TC awareness in memory of our kids!

“Who would have thought that a painless testicular lump could be cancerous and spread throughout the body?? Certainly not us. Not in a million years would we have thought this could happen in our family. Not us, not cancer. Why weren’t there educational materials at the pediatric office? We should have been made aware about the most common cancer in young men ages 15-44 and the importance of monthly self exams?? When detected early, testicular cancer has over a 95% cure rate. Awareness and early detection are key!” Kim Jones

I was not there. I did not have the emotional strenght to let him go but she needed the closure. He is just dust in the wind now.

—-

A friend keeps reminding me we are just star dust. Poetic, if not the only reality.

#testicularcancerawareness

#vilomahmothers

#imissmyson

#claudiajacquesmc

The photo below is of when he was first diagnosed in February 2022.

I was converting academic references to APA in ChatGTP and in my pain decided to ask it the following below. I didn’t expect such a caring answer. Note that I am already doing all that is suggested:

I lost my 34 year old son to testicular cancer metastasized to the brain, meninges and spinal cord on June 10, 2023. I am in pain grieving his loss. Today is 6 months. How can I ago about without feeling so much pain?

ChatGPT’s answer:

I am deeply sorry for your loss. The pain of losing a child is one of the most profound forms of grief a person can experience. It’s natural and valid to feel an intense level of sorrow, especially on significant dates like the six-month anniversary of your son’s passing.

Coping with such a loss is a very personal process and can vary significantly from one person to another. Here are some suggestions that might help you as you navigate through your grief:

Allow Yourself to Grieve: Give yourself permission to feel the full range of emotions that come with grief. There’s no “right” way to feel, and there’s no timeline for when you should be “over it.”

Seek Support: This can come from friends, family, or support groups where you can share your feelings with others who have experienced similar losses. Speaking to a grief counselor or therapist can also be beneficial.

Create a Ritual: Some people find comfort in rituals, such as lighting a candle for their loved one, visiting their resting place, or engaging in an activity that was meaningful to them.

Memorialize Your Son: You might find solace in creating something in memory of your son, such as planting a garden, dedicating a bench in his favorite park, or starting a scholarship in his name.

Write: Expressing your feelings in a journal or writing letters to your son can be a way to process your emotions.

Self-Care: It can be easy to neglect your own needs when you’re grieving. Try to maintain routines that promote your physical and emotional well-being.

Professional Help: If you find that the pain is too much to bear alone, seeking the help of a psychologist or psychiatrist might be necessary. They can provide you with strategies to cope with your loss and support your healing process.

Give It Time: Grief can feel like a wound that won’t heal, but with time, the sharpness of the pain typically lessens. While you will never forget your son, the days should eventually become easier to bear.

Honor His Life: Focus on the love you shared and the time you had, rather than the loss. Celebrating his life and the person he was can be a way to keep his memory alive.

Connect with Others: Sometimes, helping others who are also in pain can bring a sense of purpose and relief from your own grief.

Remember, grief is not a linear process, and it’s common to have ups and downs. It’s okay to seek help and it’s okay to talk about your son and your feelings. Your pain is a testament to your love for him, and it’s important to treat yourself with the same kindness you would offer to someone else in your situation.

The world is in so much pain and grief over the recent losses, I almost feel guilty sharing mine.

I miss this character

#vilomahmothers

#imissmyson

#claudiajacquesmc

#fuckcancer

I’m grateful that I got a big goodbye hug from him 48 hours before he departed. I can still feel his warmth!

I’m grateful that he endured so much just to stay with us a little bit longer. 16 months of hell for him but hope for us!

I’m grateful that he was at the best of his life and got out of this earth feeling accomplished, respected and loved. I’m so proud of him!

I’m grateful for the privilege to birth him, raise him, see him grow into an amazing man. He always confronted me to be better!

But how cruel is this life to take away a son? And send a mother to enjoy the coming elder years with a hole in the heart.

I miss my son! No hope, prayer, god, heaven, despite the magical cycle of life, will allow me to enjoy him again in the now. Grieving for a child is an overwhelming reality!

My respect and love to all the mothers and fathers who experienced such loss and continued their journey without loosing joy in their hearts. They know (we know) how bittersweet life can become.

In Portuguese folk culture, “saudade” is a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent. 

Some synonyms of “saudade” include: Sadness, Melancholy, Wistfulness, Nostalgia.”

As a native Portuguese speaker, I can say that the meaning of Saudade is much greater than just longing for a person or thing. We can also long for who we were, a place, a time, a feeling. And, even though Saudade can have a hint of melancholy, sometimes is often a warm fuzzy feeling permeated with love.

Having Saudade of the past and of my dead son, is a given but now I’m experiencing Saudade of a future that promised but won’t happen.

‘Tis a Fearful Thing ‘

Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch. A fearful thing to love, to hope, to dream, to be – to be, And oh, to lose. A thing for fools, this, And a holy thing, a holy thing to love. For your life has lived in me, your laugh once lifted me, your word was gift to me. To remember this brings painful joy. ‘Tis a human thing, love, a holy thing, to love what death has touched.” ―

Yehuda HaLevi

Como sinto saudade do meu rebento! <3

Once he made the decision to go, his passing was fast, peaceful and full of love.

When he was a child, I used to sing to him: “You are my sunshine, my ony sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are gray, you never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

As the battle with cancer became unbearable for him and for us (family) to see him suffering, and since he was mostly out of consciousness, I changed to song and sang for him ver his last 24 hours:

You are my sunshine, my loving sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, I know you know dear, how much I love you, it’s OK to go fly away.

My hope singing this version of You Are My Sunshine to him over and over again was to let him know that he could go in love and peaceful.

I never thought or wanted for that day to come, and yet, my brave warrior had to go!

Today, also as social media voyeur, I found out she died. Yes, she died! Heart attack. Just like that. Gone! She did show symptoms but her closest friend say she dismissed it as panic attacks. I read all the messages and notes of sorrow. I too felt sorrow and sadness. I never told her how her cookies warmed my heart. I pity myself for not reattributing her baked love. Shame on me!

Death once again caught us by surprise. Sneaky thing. So certain and so disguised. The most equitable and democratic event in being: death! Takes everyone, it is not if, but when. When will our number come? And how will it be? Quick in a form of a heart attack? Painful and dramatic in a car crash? Through a long and debilitating illness? Or from old age?

Death’s irony is that the longer we stay in the planet the lonely we get. How painful it is to experience everyone around you leave while waiting for your number to be called? Or to look at yourself in the mirror and not see the same flame you think you still have? Or even knowing and not remembering the knowledge? Trapped into a body that you once had control and yet slowly abandons you in preparation for the departure. Gloomy but reality. Sad, but liberating…

Back to the baked cookies… I could use one, although I shouldn’t. Life is passing fast and cookies along with ice-cream are my e-z pass to the other side. Heat attack runs in the family. It’s like the family trademark! A kind of privileged royal heritage resting on the assumption that one doesn’t suffer. Lucky ones, no pain! How do we know? And what about the ones left behind?! Sudden death is an amputation in the heart for the loved ones. I know… been there, done that… 10 years recuperating from my father’s “royal” heart attack! He may not suffered but what about me?!!

Back again to the baked cookies…. the loving baker though she was having panic attacks. Her body was alerting her for the eminent halt, yet, like a good loving baker, she dismissed her own signs. Or did somebody else dismissed it? Aren’t women always having some emotional break down? Would she still be baking if she were from another genre?

Women and heart attacks. So little known still. Women are physically different than men, and until we accept that, not to segregate but to embrace, women will be dying of panic attacks, nervous breakdown and even hysteria. I guess the woman-baker was “lucky” since she may have been spared of suffering but her many empty baking sheets reflect the emptiness she left behind.