Adrianna Younge’s Family: A Case For The Grieving Process – Part II

News Americas, NEW YORK, NY, Weds. June 11, 2025: “Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price we pay for love.” Earl Grollman.

In the wake of young Adrianna Younge’s tragic passing, we are not only facing the loss of a child but confronting a wound that ripples across an entire nation. This is at once a family’s heartbreak and a community’s shared sorrow. Caribbean life is tightly woven with threads of family, faith, folklore and village spirit. When one child is taken, the whole fabric trembles. As a Caribbean proverb reminds us, “When the roots are deep, there is no reason to fear the wind.” Yet even the deepest roots can quiver under such an unbearable storm.

The loss of a child is unlike any other grief. The death of a parent, though painful, often follows the expected rhythm of life. But the death of a child rewrites everything. It is emotionally paralyzing, spiritually disorienting and physically draining. To fully grasp the devastating impact of such loss, one must understand the meaning of attachment. As human beings, we form deep emotional bonds whether through parental connection, the parent-child relationship or sibling ties as John Bowlby emphasized in his groundbreaking work. When these bonds are broken by death, the psychological and spiritual rupture is profound.

Psychologist George Engel once noted that losing someone to whom you are deeply attached is as traumatic to the mind as a gunshot is to the body. Still, many urge grieving parents to “move on.” But grief is not a shortcut or a sprint. It is a winding road that must be walked, sometimes slowly, sometimes in silence, always with care. As Psalm 23 reminds us, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” That valley is not to be avoided. It is to be walked through, not sprinted across.

Adrianna’s death has left echoes not only in her home but across playgrounds, classrooms, Sunday School benches and Sabbath School classes. Her siblings may now cry more, sleep less, fear the dark and ache for the presence of the sister they loved. Children in the community may become withdrawn or unusually fearful. These are not misbehaviors. They are signs of invisible wounds. Their healing requires trained eyes, tender hearts and time. Barry Chevannes, the Jamaican sociologist, once observed, “The family is the bedrock of Caribbean civilization.” If grief is ignored, that bedrock begins to erode. If nurtured, it can transform into something more resilient and deeply rooted.

There is a sacred truth we must embrace. Faith does not erase grief. Even Jesus wept. The tears of the faithful are no less real than those of the hopeless. In fact, our faith gives us permission to mourn deeply and honestly. As theologian Nicholas Wolterstorff wrote after the death of his son, “The wounds of the soul are like the wounds of the body. They need time to heal and clean places to bleed.” Let our churches and communities become those clean places, safe, still and honest spaces where sorrow is not silenced but seen.

Too often we fall into what psychologists call disenfranchised grief, where people are expected to suffer quietly or worse, appear strong and unfazed. But strength is not found in pretending the pain does not exist. It is found in allowing it to be seen, shared and slowly soothed. As Caribbean people, we know how to gather for joy. Now, we must also learn how to gather for grief. Let the rhythm of empathy be louder than the rhythm of judgment. Let us weep with those who weep, not rush them toward recovery, but gently walk beside them.

As we carry this burden together, two paths forward shine clearly. First, if you know someone who is grieving, offer your presence before offering your advice. Sometimes love is found not in what we say but in the silent comfort of being near. Second, let us advocate for trauma-informed care in our schools, churches and communities. Children, like adults, need spaces where their pain is honored and understood.

Grief is love’s echo. Let us ensure that the echo of Adrianna’s life continues not in silence, but in compassion, justice and gentle remembrance.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Pastor Stanton Adams brings over thirty-six years of pastoral ministry to the table alongside his current doctoral studies in grief and trauma psychology. As Family Ministries Director for the South Leeward Conference, he has walked with countless families through valleys of heartbreak and moments of healing. His ministry is built on one enduring truth: no matter how complex the crisis, God’s grace is always sufficient and love remains our greatest calling.

READ PART 1 HERE