The Pain Without a Name: Living Through the Echoes of Estrangement - Laetitia van Schalkwyk




Today, May 26th, 2026, marks a significant day. My grandson, Lucas Daniël Zeeman, was born on this day in 2022, making him four years old today.


I woke up this morning feeling as though my heart was in tatters—as if someone had reached deep inside and torn at the very fabric of my being. Trying to focus on my work today felt like an uphill battle. Fortunately, my boss was entirely consumed by month-end tasks and didn't notice my struggle.


For far too long, I have carried this silent, heavy pain inside me. Most of the time, I can testify to God’s incredible grace carrying me day after day, keeping me from completely falling apart. If not for His strength, I would just sit in a heap and cry endless tears. The grief stems from a heartbreaking reality: I have never had the privilege of physically meeting, holding, or building a relationship with Lucas, nor with his little brother, Marcus Joshua Zeeman, who was born on August 2, 2024. And yet, we live only 234 kilometers apart.


All I have of them is a single family photo—something someone managed to send me by taking a quick snapshot of a WhatsApp profile picture. That grainy, distant image is the only window I have into their lives.


Come Christmas 2026, it will be exactly ten years since my eldest son last stepped foot inside my home. Just two weeks ago, I woke up in the dead of night from a dream. I couldn’t remember the details of the dream itself, only a profound, heavy awareness of the trauma that is still stored deep within my body and cells.


Trust me when I say I have faced many traumas in my life—the loss of loved ones, severe and heartbreaking rejection, and ultimately, a painful divorce. Even though that divorce took place back in 2006, and I have been happily remarried for five years now to a truly wonderful man, I still live with the endless, unfolding consequences of that past heartbreak every single day. Within a matter of six years, I lived in four different provinces trying to rebuild, but this specific trauma—this particular pain—is something for which human words have not yet been invented. It slowly eats away at your inside.


And yes, I have been to the Courts of Heaven. I have knelt before the Throne of Grace. A few years ago, I even had a divine encounter with angels in the night; they showed Lucas to me, and in that spiritual moment, I took him and tucked him safely into my heart.


At first, the trauma was simply too agonizing to speak about. Eventually, I began sharing it with those closest to me—people I trust with my heart. But the shame... the terrible, heavy shame of a child cutting you out of their life is suffocating. I have been blocked completely. At one stage, when I tried to reach out via email, the words hurled back at me were so cruel and devastating that it felt as though even the ocean could never wash me clean. Just like that, I became a statistic—part of the growing number of parents who have been written off by their children.


Adding to the isolation is the silence from those around us; others simply don't want to get involved because they value their relationship with me and with them both. So, you find yourself navigating the wreckage quietly, trying not to disturb the peace of those who walk on both sides.


So today, on Lucas's birthday, I am allowing myself to simply break. I am crying out with everything inside of me to the Lord. Because only He truly knows how a person survives this, and only He can help me live with it every single day.



- Laetitia van Schalkwyk 

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