I can’t imagine a pain stronger than that of losing a child. It goes against the natural order—human beings grow accustomed and even prepare for the eventual loss of their parents. But when the roles are reversed, and it’s the parents who must bury a child, the pain can be unbearable, and grief can feel endless.
Grief is one of the most universal aspects of human culture. Every culture holds a wealth of customs, beliefs, and categories of loss that bring honor to the deceased and a measure of comfort to those who remain. In Latin culture, there are many rituals and immediate processes after death—but what happens when the pain doesn’t fade? What happens to parents who miss their children so deeply that every other area of life is affected?
Like every human pain, there is great power in the simple phrase: “Me too.” However, when it comes to a loss as unique as that of a child, very few people can truly identify with it, and the inexpressible pain is not understood by most. In that vast emptiness, our faith as Christians takes on special meaning, because we serve a God who does not remain distant from our pain but identifies with it and understands it deeply.
Scripture teaches that Christ clothed Himself in humanity so He could carry with Him a full understanding of human experience—with the purpose of helping us in our suffering. In all our temptations, pains, and sorrows, Christ tells us with deep empathy: “Me too.” But in the loss of a child, we not only have Christ’s company—who understands all suffering—but also the very heart of God the Father, who was broken in a similar way when He lost His only Son on the cross. The Father leaned toward His Son in the moment the plan of redemption was fulfilled and sealed in pain, with Jesus’ final human breath.
When a child is lost, the grieving process begins—but it doesn’t end with the passing of an “ideal” amount of time. Each grief journey is as unique as the human being walking through it; it doesn’t follow predictable steps or structures. Pain can manifest as anger, apathy, sadness, denial—or all of these in a single day. Grief is not linear or rational—it involves the full spectrum of human emotion, which are essential tools for navigating a new reality.
“If you’ve lost a child, remember that the same God who holds the universe also holds your heart—with all its doubts, questions, and unresolved pain.”
—David McCormick
The same God who delighted in forming you in your mother’s womb also wept when your child left this world. The same God who created emotions understands yours as vital parts of the process you are in—and He understands you better than you think. The process cannot be rushed by willpower, and there’s no need to hurry through the stages of pain.
If someone in your community is going through this kind of loss, remember: it’s better to speak openly than to assume. If you’re thinking about them and the pain they might be facing, send a message or make a call—even if it feels uncomfortable. Your presence matters more than you realize. You don’t need to have the perfect words or have experienced the same loss to listen and understand.
What makes you most uncomfortable about another’s pain might be the starting point for entering their suffering with a comforting presence. As Jesus modeled so many times, it’s best to approach those who are suffering with open-ended questions. Curiosity shortens the distance between people and reinforces the truth that none of us are experts—we are all companions on this human journey where God meets us.
God does not remain distant from our pain and suffering. To imitate Him is to draw near and embrace—even when it’s uncomfortable. There are few pains deeper than the loss of a child, but this suffering is not a cruel whim of God; it exists with an eternal purpose that is revealed along the way. The process of grief is varied and complex, but it never has to be completely lonely. When our shame or pride pushes us to close our hearts to others, let’s remember that the humility Jesus lived so clearly is the indispensable ingredient for healing. Even in your grief, there is purpose—and pain gains eternal meaning when you walk through it holding God’s hand: the same God who also lost His Son.