Tadd would often march around The White House wearing his boy-size
soldier outfit. The Civil War was raging, and not even young children
could escape the reality of it. Lincoln’s drawn, and often sad featured
always lightened whenever he spent time with his young son. Such times
caused him to reflect on his own childhood; playing in the brook,
chasing squirrels, climbing hills.
Lincoln
had a special relationship with this child of his old age. And Tadd
enjoyed spending time with his Dad. They had a unique and enduring bond.
Until… The little boy developed a wasting illness, and try as the
doctors could, they could not save the tiny tyke. This light of
Lincoln's life grew progressively sicker, and eventually died.
It
goes without saying that the President was devastated, as was his wife.
I think their grief knew no consolation during those innumerable days
that followed Tadd’s passing.
And
if the truth were known, I suppose “Old Abe” found himself weeping at
the most unexpected times; lunch with a senator, a trip to the theater,
walking alone at sunset.
But
unlike the thousands of other parents whose male children were dying,
during this dark night of our nation’s soul, Lincoln developed a curious
obsession. He insisted on visiting his little lost son. (But not in the traditional sense).
Lincoln
would visit his son’s crypt, open the little casket, and spend time
gazing upon the declining features of his little boy. (I kid you not.)
History tells us that the president did this at least four times in the
months following Tadd’s death.
Who
can understand the deep-seated emotions of a parent who has lost a
child to the grim reaper? Only another parent with the same experience. I
can only imagine that sort of pain.
I
have counseled parents of terminally-ill children, parents who have
seen a child die as a result of a chronic disease or accident, women who
have opted for abortions, only to regret it later. And there are no
easy or pat answers.
I
encourage clients that they should take time to grieve, to “cut
themselves some slack,” to avoid major decisions during such a time as
this, to, as much as possible, stay busy with mundane tasks, and to
allow others “to come along side” them.
For time offers some comfort, and at least, partial closure.
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 5. Vol.'s 1-15, Copyright 2015
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