Austin's Blog

Fyodor Dostoevsky was a 19th-century Russian novelist and philosopher known for his profound psychological insight and exploration of existential and religious themes. His major works, including Crime and Punishment, The Brothers Karamazov, and Notes from Underground, examine morality, religion, free will, and the human condition.

The Brothers Karamazov is one of my favorite books. Recently, I learned that Dostoevsky was a bereaved parent who suddenly lost his three-month-old daughter, Sonia. In 1868, he wrote two letters to his friend, Russian poet Apollon Nikolayevich Maykov, describing the agony and pain of child loss. Below are excerpts from these letters, along with some insights I’ve gleaned.

Love for your children makes you silly and almost comical.

Dostoevsky writes:

“My love for my first child was probably most comical; I daresay I expressed it most comically in my letters to all who congratulated me. I have doubtless been ridiculous in everybody’s eyes, but to you, to you, I am not ashamed to say anything. The poor little darling creature, scarcely three months old, had already, for me, individuality and character. She was just beginning to know and love me, and always smiled when I came near.”

We ought to avoid consoling bereaved parents by telling them they can have more children.

He laments:

“And now they tell me, to console me, that I shall surely have other children. But where is Sonia? Where is the little creature for whom I would, believe me, gladly have suffered death upon the cross, if she could have remained alive? I’ll speak of it no more.”

Bereavement is debilitating and can interrupt daily life and work.

“For the last fortnight, since Sonia’s illness, I have not been able to work. I have written a letter of apology to Katkov, and in the May number of the Roussky Viestnik, again only three chapters can appear.”

In a second letter, he adds:

“I have grown quite stupid from sheer hard work, and my head feels as if it were in pieces.”

The pain of bereavement can grow worse over time.

“I don’t intend to describe my state to you, but the more time goes by, the more painful does remembrance become, and the more clearly does my dead Sonia’s image stand before me. There are moments in which I can hardly bear it.”

Grief lasts a lifetime because love lasts a lifetime.

“I shall never forget her; my grief will never come to an end.”

Bereaved parents worry about whether they can truly love future children.

“And if I ever should have another child, I don’t know, truly, how I shall be able to love it—I don’t know where the love could come from. I want only Sonia. I can’t realize in the least that she is no more, and that I am never to see her again….”

Dostoevsky’s wife, Anna Grigorievna, described his grief:

“I was extremely frightened for my poor husband…He wept and cried like a woman over the cold body of his beloved daughter, and he covered her pale little face and hands with warm kisses. Such furious despondency I have never again seen.”

Despite his deep sorrow, Dostoevsky later had more children with Anna, and his love for them became a healing force amid his grief. It is no surprise that Sonia became the name of the heroine in his masterpiece, Crime and Punishment.