THE NOTION OF “CLOSURE”
by Luleta Brown

Not long after my loss, some people brought up the subject of “finding closure.” I was able to move forward in my grief only when I stopped looking for closure and started looking for hope.

On December 7, 2003, life for me as I knew it came to a screeching halt: our healthy unborn son, just 4 days shy of his due date, died from strangulation after getting entangled in his umbilical cord.

It was a miracle how this baby even came to be.

My husband and I got married late in life, and we thought this window was closed to us because of my age. However I got pregnant a number of times. Each pregnancy ended in miscarriage. Finally, we accepted that this was not to be, and we made the decision to move on with our lives.

Since I was experiencing pre-menopausal symptoms, I did not think it unusual when I missed my period; I was very surprised to find out the reason for my missed period was that I was pregnant.

I was “cautiously optimistic” in my approach to the pregnancy. I followed good

pre-natal care, but was emotionally “guarded.” In the pregnancies I miscarried, I embraced “motherhood” as soon as I found out I was pregnant. The subsequent miscarriages were overwhelmingly heartbreaking. The first and second trimester passed with no mishap, there were some minor concerns but each ultrasound showed a healthy developing baby.

In my seventh month, I cast aside my “guarded” approach and opened my heart completely to the experience. I now felt it was safe to do so.

We knew it was a boy, and I imagined what his personality would be like and decorated the nursery accordingly. We chose the colours with care. Each item, from pictures to curtains, were decided on, only, after due consideration. I envisioned our little boy inside his room looking curiously at each item and interacting with each as I cared for him. Even though he was in my tummy, I felt his approval.

  The preparations for our miraculous bundle of joy were finally complete. We could hardly wait for our baby’s arrival. A week before my due date, I packed everything that would be needed for the hospital; gently folding the outfit, hat, and booties to dress our baby in for his trip home. Four days before my due date, I went to see my Obstetrician for what was to be a final appointment (I was already a few centimeters dilated by then). As per usual, a routine ultrasound was performed. But this time the outcome was a shocker: there was no heartbeat — our son had died the night before in my sleep.

Words cannot explain the mental anguish or the intensity of grief I experienced when I was told that our baby had died. I wanted to die too; I tried to will myself to die. I was not actively suicidal — as much as I tried I could not disconnect from those around me to develop those thoughts. However, I felt if I concentrated long enough on “dying” it would happen.

I did not die, of course, though I was at my lowest point mentally and physically. I did not even catch a cold during that time. My anguish continued, unabated. I kept searching for a reason for our son’s death. Why? Why us? I kept asking.

An autopsy was performed and I prayed it would show our baby suffered from a major congenital disorder, which contributed to his death. I felt I could rationalize his death with this result. But the autopsy proved our son to be a perfectly healthy baby boy. The doctors told us he died from a “vague mishap”: strangling on his umbilical cord.

Daily I struggled to come to grips with what seemed like a never-ending bottomless pain. After weeks of trying to cope, and mostly failing in my efforts, I made the decision to take the full year off; the year that I had planned to take if our son had lived. The year was called “my sabbatical journey of grief.”

During the year, it was said to me many times to try and find “closure.” But try as I might, I could not find it. I pretended once to find it just to please those around me, but could not act out the fallacy for long.

Halfway into my sabbatical, a revelation came to me: to stop looking for “closure” and look instead for “hope.” I was able to see the wisdom in this, and so, turned my resources to finding hope.

That was two and a half years ago.

What is hope? Hope to me is to be able to manage my grief successfully after experiencing the biggest grief life has inflicted; and to move forward with the scars from this grief. Hope has allowed me to manage my grief — some days successfully, and on other days not so successfully. Hope allows me to know that this is normal and ok. I use a metaphor for this; I call it “walking with a limp.” With hope I can walk forward with my limp. On some days the limp will be obvious, and on other days it won’t be as obvious.

The word “closure” has become so overused it now has a hollow cliché ring to it. I believe “hope” is a better word, and that we should encourage the bereaved to strive for this. The grief from the loss of my son will never end; there will be no closure for me from this loss. Finding hope however, has helped me to embrace life again.

I express these thoughts in the in the following poem:

WALKING WITH A LIMP

Don’t stare
at me today
because I’m moving at a slower
pace than
yesterday.
I know I’m dragging
my steps
and my speech is
halting —
I’ll soon be running out of breath!

Water is dripping
from my worn-out Soul
porous and overstretched,
and it’s probably clear
that I’m struggling to suppress
internal moans.

Sorry for this,
it’s just another layer
of my long farewell
to a buried dream,
a goodbye that never ends.

So, no need to stare in confusion.
Nothing else is wrong.
The main battle has been won
but true closure comes with death.

On some days I’ll just be
limping along, scars and all.
(And that is normal).

-Luleta Brown

Biography

Luleta Brown resides north of Toronto, Ontario, with her husband, Karlheinz. All Angels Have Wings is her first published work, which came about in an unforeseen way.

In December 2003 as she and her husband lovingly awaited the highly anticipated arrival of their son, they were hit by a tragedy: four days before the official due date, he died from what appeared to be strangulation by the umbilical cord. He had been a healthy baby. This was purported to be a “vague” mishap.

Luleta calls this tragedy her “big one” that surpassed all other tragedies she had experienced. After she overcame the initial shock of her loss, the subsequent grieving led Luleta on a sabbatical journey for a year as she tried to come to terms with, and find some meaning from, the loss. The result: poems based on the events that took place from the first seconds of being informed of the death of her son through to her return to work in January 2005. Together the poems weave Luleta’s story as they track her grief.

Stillborn deaths are life’s realities that many in our society do not know how to handle. We often do not speak about such tragedies. Luleta believes that background and culture play a role in how we deal with grief from life’s tragedies. Luleta was born and raised in the island of Jamaica. In this country, grief is an accepted life reality; people truly allow themselves to show their grief without feeling restrained by societal taboos. It is perfectly acceptable for you to “bawl” your heart out over the death of a loved one if that is what your emotions direct you to do; this is seen as a positive thing. People channel other emotions the same way: when they laugh they truly allow themselves to feel their laughter in an unfettered way.

She believes that there is a taboo in her adopted country about overt displays of grief or other human emotions. People tend to internalize their emotions more and seem to experience greater difficulty in attaining true and lasting healing.

Luleta believes that her cultural background played a role in sustaining her to carry her grief without a crutch, and she believes that because of this, her healing will be a lasting one.

She also believes that sometimes the subject matter chooses you. It is her wish that this documentation of her emotional journey through poetry not only give a voice to those who are confronted with the death of their child before birth, but also offer hope to others who are experiencing their “big one.” She now knows that it is possible to truly embrace life again.

Luleta works for an employee support organization and is training to become a grief facilitator.

In December 2003, Luleta Brown experienced one of life’s worst personal tragedies: her healthy unborn son died unexpectedly, four days before his official due date. She was told it was a “vague” mishap.

The arrival of Luleta’s son was to have been the miraculous fulfillment of a long-awaited dream. The grief was profound, unlike any other grieving over death that she had ever experienced (and she had grieved over death many times).

The subsequent days and weeks were a struggle; many times she questioned her proven resiliency and deep-rooted coping skills. As much as she tried, she could not seem to get to the point of total acceptance of this tragedy. She refused to accept that her life could be put through such upheaval for no reason; she did not believe fate had the right to do that.

After an arduous battle, Luleta made the choice to create a reason; she had what she can only refer to as an epiphany — the experience of an insight — to write this book. While doing so, she discovered that the process of writing the poems was helping her to confront emotions she had not yet confronted; it felt like a cleansing process. Luleta was seized in a writing frenzy; she wrote all the time, practically non-stop. Many times, she thought she had covered all the essential areas, but then an important scenario would present itself, out of the blue, to be included; for example, “The Most Natural Question in the World” and “Norman.” Some topics are approached in a direct and candid way.

The poems in All Angels Have Wings explore the gamut of emotions that Luleta experienced and struggled with. It was truly a journey through grief to hope and to finally embracing life again in a real way.

$20.95 Available at: www.robertspress.ca

Please note; due to the sensitive nature of the articles the content has not been edited. This is to enable the Author to portray their true feeling surrounding the subject.