“They Said”
By Sarah Gniazdowski, Chairman of the Grief Support Group
“It will get better,” they said. “It will get easier with time,” they said. “Life will go back to normal,” they said.
As a naïve nine year old, I clung to the hope that these empty promises would in fact come true. Ten years later, as a more experienced nineteen year old, I’ve come to realize that nothing would be better, easier, or normal about the loss that I experienced.
On August 16, 2005, my younger brother, Danny, went to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital for routine testing. Danny was diagnosed at the age of two with a rare, genetic disorder called Mucopolysaccharidosis (MPS), so trips to the hospital for testing and doctor visits were not foreign to Danny and our family. However, this day proved to be as foreign as Luxembourgish to my parents and me.
Next to the IGA in Springboro, Ohio, my neighbor and my role model held me in the back of a BMW as she told me that Danny did not make it through the tests that day. I would later find out that Danny’s heart had stopped while the doctors moved him from one operating room to the next. They could not revive him. To this day, ten years later, I still remember running to my dad’s arms when I arrived at the hospital. I still remember seeing my weary mom crouched on the chair next to my brother’s bed. And I will always remember how my once lively and jolly brother looked laying lifeless in the hospital bed.
I know that people try to offer comfort in situations like this one, but empty promises like these simply worsen the heartache when we discover that it will not get better, it will not get easier with time, and life will never go back to normal. So, I’m here to shed some light on the truth. The truth is not always as peachy keen as we would like it to be, but at least we can hold on to the comfort of knowing what to expect. With such a significant loss, life as we know it will never go back to normal. But, is that really a bad thing? What would it say about the impact and the life of the loved one we lost? Wouldn’t it convey that life would move on as planned without that person? I don’t mean to sound cynical or even harsh, but when we lose a significant individual in our lives, that loss will always play a vital role in our future.
Grief and loss are not defined by a strict timeline, but instead follow each of us throughout our daily lives. This doesn’t mean that we will be mourning the loss of our loved one every second of every day for the rest of our lives, but it does mean that there will always be moments and events that trigger emotions regarding the loss of that individual. For example, my heart tingles and my eyes moisten when I see a little boy dressed up in a Buzz Lightyear costume. Or as I experience milestones in my life, such as graduation from high school, I think about my brother not being at other milestones of mine, like my college graduation or my wedding. I become even more disheartened when I think about milestones that he will not be able to experience.
At times like these, I turn to the song “Who You’d Be Today,” by Kenny Chesney. The lyrics go, “It ain’t fair you died too young, like a story that had just begun. But death tore the pages all away. God knows how I miss you, all the hell that I’ve been through, just knowin’ no one could take your place. And sometimes I wonder who you’d be today.”
Who would Danny Gniazdowski be today? Would he still be able to talk? Would he be graduating high school? Would he learn how to drive? Would he ever get married? These questions are the questions that will haunt me for the rest of my life, however, they also inspire me to live my life in honor of the life Danny didn’t have the opportunity to finish. If I can offer one piece of advice in losing a loved one, it’s to relish in the hard times and to rejoice in the happy times. Be glad that there are times when the pain seems too much to carry on. This means that your loved one left an impact on you and on the world. Be proud of that. Be even more glad that certain events trigger happy memories of you and your loved one’s journey together. Cherish those forever.
Don’t have the expectation that any of this is going to get easier. You will simply cause yourself more heartache when this empty promise does not come true. Instead, take pride and comfort in knowing that you had the unbelievable opportunity to know your loved one and let their legacy live on through you.
Siblings with a Mission is an international organization established to serve and support siblings of individuals with special needs. All images are found on Google images and are solely used for education purposes. The stories and advice provided by Siblings with a Mission are not to be replaced by professional advice and counseling but to be considered as an additional source of support.
By Sarah Gniazdowski, Chairman of the Grief Support Group
“It will get better,” they said. “It will get easier with time,” they said. “Life will go back to normal,” they said.
As a naïve nine year old, I clung to the hope that these empty promises would in fact come true. Ten years later, as a more experienced nineteen year old, I’ve come to realize that nothing would be better, easier, or normal about the loss that I experienced.
On August 16, 2005, my younger brother, Danny, went to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital for routine testing. Danny was diagnosed at the age of two with a rare, genetic disorder called Mucopolysaccharidosis (MPS), so trips to the hospital for testing and doctor visits were not foreign to Danny and our family. However, this day proved to be as foreign as Luxembourgish to my parents and me.
Next to the IGA in Springboro, Ohio, my neighbor and my role model held me in the back of a BMW as she told me that Danny did not make it through the tests that day. I would later find out that Danny’s heart had stopped while the doctors moved him from one operating room to the next. They could not revive him. To this day, ten years later, I still remember running to my dad’s arms when I arrived at the hospital. I still remember seeing my weary mom crouched on the chair next to my brother’s bed. And I will always remember how my once lively and jolly brother looked laying lifeless in the hospital bed.
I know that people try to offer comfort in situations like this one, but empty promises like these simply worsen the heartache when we discover that it will not get better, it will not get easier with time, and life will never go back to normal. So, I’m here to shed some light on the truth. The truth is not always as peachy keen as we would like it to be, but at least we can hold on to the comfort of knowing what to expect. With such a significant loss, life as we know it will never go back to normal. But, is that really a bad thing? What would it say about the impact and the life of the loved one we lost? Wouldn’t it convey that life would move on as planned without that person? I don’t mean to sound cynical or even harsh, but when we lose a significant individual in our lives, that loss will always play a vital role in our future.
Grief and loss are not defined by a strict timeline, but instead follow each of us throughout our daily lives. This doesn’t mean that we will be mourning the loss of our loved one every second of every day for the rest of our lives, but it does mean that there will always be moments and events that trigger emotions regarding the loss of that individual. For example, my heart tingles and my eyes moisten when I see a little boy dressed up in a Buzz Lightyear costume. Or as I experience milestones in my life, such as graduation from high school, I think about my brother not being at other milestones of mine, like my college graduation or my wedding. I become even more disheartened when I think about milestones that he will not be able to experience.
At times like these, I turn to the song “Who You’d Be Today,” by Kenny Chesney. The lyrics go, “It ain’t fair you died too young, like a story that had just begun. But death tore the pages all away. God knows how I miss you, all the hell that I’ve been through, just knowin’ no one could take your place. And sometimes I wonder who you’d be today.”
Who would Danny Gniazdowski be today? Would he still be able to talk? Would he be graduating high school? Would he learn how to drive? Would he ever get married? These questions are the questions that will haunt me for the rest of my life, however, they also inspire me to live my life in honor of the life Danny didn’t have the opportunity to finish. If I can offer one piece of advice in losing a loved one, it’s to relish in the hard times and to rejoice in the happy times. Be glad that there are times when the pain seems too much to carry on. This means that your loved one left an impact on you and on the world. Be proud of that. Be even more glad that certain events trigger happy memories of you and your loved one’s journey together. Cherish those forever.
Don’t have the expectation that any of this is going to get easier. You will simply cause yourself more heartache when this empty promise does not come true. Instead, take pride and comfort in knowing that you had the unbelievable opportunity to know your loved one and let their legacy live on through you.
Siblings with a Mission is an international organization established to serve and support siblings of individuals with special needs. All images are found on Google images and are solely used for education purposes. The stories and advice provided by Siblings with a Mission are not to be replaced by professional advice and counseling but to be considered as an additional source of support.