True Truth


I will not get used to the fact that my son is beyond my reach.  I have come to a certain acceptance of it as fact, and acknowledgement of the truth that I cannot change that fact.

The pain hasn’t become less painful, only more familiar.  It doesn’t surprise me as often when it pricks my heart anew.

The world goes on.  I am a tiny speck in the greater scheme of things and my heartache hardly merits any pause in the machinery of the cosmos.

I have learned to put on the face I need for everyday tasks and to look the part of a functioning human being.  But just beneath the surface is a cauldron of emotion that can be exposed in a heartbeat.

I miss my son.

I miss the part of me that was reflected back from the mirror of Dominic.

I miss the family we used to be.

I miss the past when there could be a whole day of laughter without a single tear.

I miss the children I used to have-the ones who knew nothing about irrevocable loss and breathtaking heartache.

I know I’m indulging in selfish introspection and that I should be looking with faith-filled eyes to the glorious future God has promised through Christ.

But today I just can’t.

I won’t be guilted into trying to pretend that I don’t miss all this.

Because I do.


changed for life

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.

26 thoughts on “True Truth”

  1. Yes, oh yes! Me too. You articulate so well what my heart feels, what goes through my mind. You are brave, you are kind, you are such an encourager. I am beyond thankful that I found your blog after Rachel laid down her life.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you Melanie for your post. I lost my son, Will on May 7, 2016 in an auto accident. He was 23 years old. He had received his senior ring from college the day before it happened. Everything you wrote I have thought. The one thing I didn’t quite have the words for was when you said ” I missed the part of me that was reflected back”. My son Will had my personality, he looked like me, he thought like me a lot! My youngest son looks just like his big brother(but 10 years younger), but he has my husband’s out going personality. Thank you for finding the words for me to articulate what I was feeling. I’m so sorry of your loss of your precious son, Dominic.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Mary, I hate that we share this awful experience of loss and pain. My heart hurts for yours. Each of my four children are very different from one another yet each has something they reflect back to me. With Dominic it was his love of logic, debate and political insight. And there was also an indefinable aspect of our relationship that made each of us slightlly different and “more” somehow when we were together. That’s gone and I miss it.

      I’m thankful the post gave you words to express your heart. That is one of the beautiful things about sharing mine-sometimes it does help another ❤ .

      May the Lord give you strength for each new day and may He overwhelm you with His love, grace and mercy. ❤


  3. Everyday I take hope, trust and faith away from your incredible words. I often have the same thoughts but don’t put them down in writing. I read what you write and I just cry because it is my heart…..thank you for being so willing to be so open and raw and truly allow yourself to share so others can learn and grow from them. You are a true blessing from God.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for speaking courage to my heart, Renee. With every post, that is my prayer. I write because I’m compelled, but it is so very beautiful when it helps another hurting heart. ❤


  4. Right there with you today Melanie. I was thinking about how my pain gets lost in the massive crowd of those who have also suffered and lost. What about God’s sovereign plan? How does the pain of one family fit into that? It’s overwhelmimg! Does he still see me? I know he does, but some days I feel like he doesn’t, and that’s a lonely, hard place to be.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Diana, I do relate to your words. My son’s life plan didn’t surprise God, and he’s obviously at peace, healed and well. But what about us, his parents? How does our son’s choice to suicide affect our life plans? Is this fair that our life trajectory was so dependent on his trajectory? This is what I don’t get about a merciful God.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Carolyn, my son died in an accident so I’m not precisely in your shoes. But he was going way too fast in a curve that he drove often so a part of my heart thinks, “Why did you make that choice when you knew it might end badly and leave all of us here to grieve?”

        I won’t pretend to speak for God. But the way I have been able to wrap my mind around the fact that my son’s choice impacted MY life trajectory in such a painful way is this: God IS merciful. But He has also chosen to give humans free will within a certain range of freedom that allows for us to make poor choices. He has also set up the world to operate on certain immutable laws like gravity and other physical laws, biology, etc. COULD He intervene every single time someone chose badly? Yes. But DOES He? No. I’ll be honest. I think sometimes what is attributed to the miraculous intervention of God (like an auto accident where someone lives when they “should” have died) isn’t miraculous. It’s just that somehow the laws of physics worked in their favor. If God intervened as often as we beg Him too, the world would be full of automatons instead of human beings as we know them.

        That doesn’t help our shattered hearts because the pain is there no matter WHY it happened. But it helps my heart cling to God even in the pain.

        My son made a poor choice. When his motorcycle left the road, the laws of physics guaranteed he would strike an object at a high rate of speed. When he did, the laws of biology guaranteed his body couldn’t withstand the impact. Sometimes those laws save someone, sometimes they doom them.

        I am so very sorry for your pain and your loss. I pray that the Lord will overwhelm your hurting heart with His love, grace and mercy and that you will hear Him whisper, “Courage, My child” to your soul. ❤

        Liked by 1 person

      2. My son Brian took his life also. He suffered from deep depression and was diagnosed finally at 27 with Bipolar disorder. He was 31 when he died. The way I have survived is my faith. God has carried me through the dark times . I also look at the fact that our children belong to God and are just on loan to us. I also choose to feel blessed that God chose me to be their parent. I also think of how God must have felt seeing his son die a horrific,slow death. I lost our second son 7 years later due to cancer. That you are still here shows you are a survivor. God believes in our strength even when we don’t. Hugs from one survivor to another.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I am so very sorry for your pain and your multiplied loss. You’re right, our children are ours for a season. My son was killed in a motorcycle accident. May the Lord continue to give you the strength you need to hold on to hope. Hugs and love to you as well, dear mama. ❤


    2. Diana,

      Something a friend and I were talking about just the other day was God as Jehovah-Roi ( The God Who Sees Me). And as we were talking, it occurred to me for the first time that when God revealed Himself to Hagar as Jehovah-Roi, He didn’t change her circumstances at all. He gave her hope to cling to in the prophecy over Ishmael, but He didn’t “fix’ a thing He saw her and He basically said, “You have ME and that will have to be enough for now.”

      Our current western church culture focuses so strongly on life being “beautiful, full and pain-free” that when a story presents and it isn’t, we don’t know what to do with it. So we run. And that is part of my heart’s cry to let other hurting hearts know they are NOT alone. I wish so badly sometimes I could reach through the screen and give a hug.

      God sees. I see you. You matter, He has not abandoned you even though it may feel that way.

      I don’t know how this all will end, but I am confident that every single tear will be redeemed, every single heartache will be crafted into something beautiful and that when I get to heaven, I will be completely satisfied.

      In the meantime, I pray that the Lord will give you and me what we need for each day so that we can endure and hold onto hope. ❤


  5. Thank You again. You are so gifted in the way you put your feelings into words.
    It is always as if you where in my head. I can not express to my friends and family the way I feel. Then you put it in print. I can let them read your words and it becomes clearer to them. Just say David when they come to Dominic.
    May God keep you and bless you today and always.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. These words so hit home today ….. It’s now been 6 weeks and I am having so much trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that I will never see Jon again on this earth. I miss calling him, texting him, e-mailing him, and knowing he was there. I miss his laughter and his love. I know he’s in heaven waiting for the rest of us, but I selfishly want him here …….

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Another moment like many when I open my mouth, unable to adequately say what I feel and then you write. Then I feel less alone. 💙

    Liked by 1 person

  8. I so agree with Jeff ‘ s mom. I only recently stumbled across your blog, but you write where my heart is at. I have a peace that my son is “safely Home”, but the missing is so hard. I saw a phrase someone posted on another site, “Your absence is always present”. As I go through each day, normal for the rest of the world to see, that presence of absence stays with me. Yes, the pain is more familiar and the pain pricks less surprising as you say, but the intensity can still overwhelm. I think the Psalms show us that sorrow and faith can walk together when we link arms with hope “of that glorious future”. Joining with you in the missing. I’m missing Kevin.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. I hope this comes across OK, but allow me for a moment to play ‘big sis’ and say I’m proud of you, Melanie. I know it doesn’t feel good; I know you feel as if you are in a dark place when writing this. However, what I see is growth. It is in the darkest places that our roots expand. (((HUGS)))

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Thanks once again, Melanie. “The pain hasn’t become less painful, only more familiar.” This is me. This is my existence. Your gift with words helps me not feel less pain, but to nod my head in agreement. Here is another follower of Christ who really gets me. May we know His grace and hope for a future where our tears will be dried. Missing my Jeff💛💙

    Liked by 1 person

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