Rising Above Grief After Losing My Son
Following the sudden loss of her son and then her mother not long afterward, Pamela Plummer was overcome with a profound sense of pain and emptiness. In the years that followed, her Buddhist practice became a lifeline enabling her to rise above her pain and discover the beauty of life.
My son and I had just spent the weekend together. It was July 2006, and he had just come back from college. We had done so many wonderful things. We visited my sister. We ate and we talked. He told me that I was the best mother a kid could ever have. I told him I wished I could have been even better. Looking back now, it was like I was drinking him in.
It felt out of place to get the call so soon after our weekend together that he had taken his life. I moved from Alabama to New York, to care for my ailing mother, who died a year later. If I could communicate the pain and emptiness I felt, it was as if my mind was on fire.
It was as if my mind was on fire.
I had been introduced to Buddhism at a work conference 13 years earlier, in 1993, in Maryland. I was studying a lot of different philosophies back then, Hinduism and Buddhism among them.
I had grown up in the 60s, coming home from school to TV news stories on the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights struggle. I was a child searching for peace and some understanding of the world and myself in it.
Buddhism—The Perfect Nutrient for My Life
At the conference, I had a book on Buddhism with me, and one of the presenters noticed it and began talking to me about Nichiren Buddhism and the Mahayana tradition of altruistic, or bodhisattva, practice. I had already been to a Soka Gakkai meeting by then, in 1989, but everybody at the meeting was smiling and laughing so much that I thought something was wrong. Looking back, I can truly appreciate how joyous everyone must have felt at that gathering.
I found so much in Buddhism—good friends, family and a philosophy that encompassed all of life.
The woman I met at the conference in 1993 became my best friend. We spoke long distance by telephone for two years, not just about Buddhism but about life. I also encountered another Soka Gakkai member, who happened to be an acquaintance of mine. She took me to a Buddhist meeting in 1995, and I became a member myself later that year.
I found so much in Buddhism—good friends, family and a philosophy that encompassed all of life. It had everything that I needed. It was like a perfect nutrient.
Processing My Inexplicable Loss
It was this beautiful community and my Buddhist practice that I will never forget as I began to process my inexplicable loss. I wrote a lot of poems in conversation with my son, but then, it felt as though I had no more words. I then started painting but with certain ground rules. Painting was not about being perfect or avoiding mistakes. It was about exploring the things going on around me, inside me and the beauty of life. It was a dialogue that occurred within my own life.
I chanted to learn how to live and appreciate life again.
I chanted Nam-myo-renge-kyo to the Gohonzon, a scroll central to the practice of Nichiren Buddhism, to banish my pain and my fear; to not succumb to it.
What My Son Taught Me
Life brought me back to Alabama to teach at the largest historically Black university, filled with promising young people and amazing colleagues.
My experience with my son taught me how important it is to be open with youth, to listen carefully to them and to look for those opportunities for them to shine—because they shine even when they cannot see it.
They shine even when they cannot see it.
I remember when I was young. Sometimes I think it’s about having that spirit that there’s so much of life that lies ahead of you. That it’s about continuing to believe that life is open and broad and full of possibilities.
It will be 20 summers this July since I lost my son. Loss has taught me that I have to locate that person, to find them in my life. For me, that place changes with time. My Buddhist practice has helped me find his laughter, his sense of humor and his joy, etched in my heart.
Connected Through Past, Present and Future
When I’m chanting, I feel as if I’m inside a precious, sacred space that is eternal, a treasure tower; everybody is there, including my son. All the people whom I have loved, all the people who have been a part of my life, are there. We are connected, across the three existences of the past, present and future—eternally.
When I envision him now, I see him working hard. He’s saying, “I love you, Mom.” He’s saying, “I’m OK, I’m good.”
I chant with this same belief for the members in my local region, that my prayer will encompass everyone. Some people have to travel long distances to get to one another and to get to a discussion meeting. I chant that everybody’s safe on the road and that they have joyful gatherings.
Life is full of towering heights and great depths, but whatever occurs, I’ve learned over time to hold on to my Buddhist faith and not let go.
Of praying in this way, for the positive and protective functions of the universe to be activated in the lives of others, President Daisaku Ikeda says, “With such prayer, with such faith, you will be able to realize a fundamental transformation in the very depths of your life. It is the secret to achieving your human revolution.”
Life is full of towering heights and great depths, but whatever occurs, I’ve learned over time to hold on to my Buddhist faith and not let go. It’s a beautiful and profound practice, and I am so grateful to have found what I had been searching for—how to live in this world, how to create value and how to more deeply appreciate the lives of others and my own.
Adapted from an article in the March 7, 2025, issue of the Word Tribune, SGI-USA.
