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BEPeople have asked me to explain how my son William died.
Sharing this has never been easy. For a long time, it carried so much shame. Saying he died in a skiing accident felt like saying it was my fault, like there was something I should have seen or done differently.
What I’ve learned, slowly and painfully, is that life is deeply unpredictable. We have far less control than we want to believe.
William was an excellent skier. He raced. He took lessons. He was cautious in every move he made. We don’t actually know how he went off the trail. He was found at the base of a tree well, and he died instantly from a broken neck. There was no autopsy, so we will never know the full picture.
And in many ways, that truth doesn’t change anything. The outcome is the same. He is still dead.
I share this because I know people are curious. I share it because this is part of what it means to be a bereaved parent—to live with the constant reality of your child’s death, and to answer questions about it again and again.
I’m always willing to talk about it. I’m open to the conversation.
But if I’m honest, I’d much rather talk about how he lived.
🤍
@bereavementmom
