A grief without a name.

There is a word for losing both your parents. A title for losing your husband or wife. You can use a simple word: Orphan, Widow, Widower, to explain a huge loss in your life without having to go into detail. Avoiding uncomfortable explanations or awkward silences.

But, perhaps because it is the most unimaginable loss, there isn't such a word for when your child dies. Yet it is the hardest to try and describe to someone new or to quickly drop into conversation without either bringing up a raft of unwanted questions or making the mood abruptly, shockingly sombre (and then somehow feeling guilty for doing so). Parents of angels (one of the euphemisms available to us) end up coming up with a script or line which feels at least a little bit okay to say out loud, if the audience seems safe to confide in.

We want to be able to talk about our child, but we don't want to dwell on our sadness which is present every moment, just under the surface- and a well meaning (or totally inappropriate) phrase can easily burst that exterior and bring it bubbling and pouring forth. An unwanted avalanche of pain and grief which could easily turn into an unstoppable ugly crying session.

Not that there is a 'right' thing to say, or that anyone can make it better. So many of us also then feel we have to manage the emotions of the person we are imparting our uncomfortable news upon. Sometimes people cry- even those who didn't know Elodie at all- and most just don't know what to say. Which is fine- again, there is nothing to say other than acknowledging how truly rubbish it is, how cruel life can be, and then.. maybe ask to see a photo of her! I will always gladly agree.

Because our children are still our children. We still love them every minute and want to share their successes and stories. So keep sharing memories, asking about their lives, and saying their names. Help us keep them alive that way.