Echoes

Little by little the physical evidence that Dominic once walked this earth beside me is fading away…

Read the rest here:   When The Last Fingerprint Fades Away

Author: Melanie

I am a shepherd, wife and mother of four amazing children, three that walk the earth with me and one who lives with Jesus. This is a record of my grief journey and a look into the life I didn't choose. If you are interested in joining a community of bereaved parents leaning on the promises of God in Christ, please like the public Facebook page, "Heartache and Hope: Life After Losing a Child" and join the conversation.

5 thoughts on “Echoes”

  1. I used to go into Jason’s room, stand with my eyes closed, breathe in and remember. The smells fade, but the memories stay. When we cleaned out his room, the thing that crumpled me into a sobbing mess was opening and smelling his cologne. Even after all these years, I long to reach out and hug something close of Jason’s, all the time wishing it was him I was hugging. Oh, how I miss my boy.

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  2. I was very disappointed to find that none of Evan’s bedding and clothes really smelled like him because he had recently put a really “loud” air freshener in the room he was renting & everything from there smells like it. One of the shoes he was wearing at the time of the accident was left in his car & I’ve been sleeping with it ever since we collected his things from the vehicle. I can hardly look at it, though. I turn off the lights, pull it up to my chest & tell myself how crazy I am for sleeping with a dirty shoe. But somehow it brings me comfort and I don’t care that this is proof that I AM crazy with grief.

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    1. You are NOT crazy. Grieving a child means doing what it takes to get through. You aren’t doing anything that is harmful and if that helps you, then do it. My feeling is that if I am not abusing food, drugs, alcohol or engaging in any other destructive behavior, then I’m OK. I’m not doing any of those things and I’m trying my best to make pro-active healthier choices. The rest is coping the best I can..

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  3. So so true 😦 I still go to the closet and hug my son’s clothes, longing to feel his heart beating against my ear and the rise and fall of his chest, that wonderful sign of life I looked for so many times years ago when he was an infant and I would go to his crib and check on him while he slept.

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