July 2018 – thelifeididntchoose

Speak Up, They Can’t Read Your Mind

I’ll admit it.

I tend to be an emotional stuffer.

It never seemed like it was worth the drama to expose my feelings to others. It rarely resulted in changed behavior and often resulted in confrontation, retribution or worse.

So I learned to swallow tears, stuff pain and slink off into another room and lick my wounds.

But that’s hardly healthy.

And it cannot be sustained when a heart shatters into a million pieces.

Because trying to hide THAT pain is impossible.

It slips out eventually-usually in a way that is awful and untimely and creates more hurt and more drama than if I had simply owned up to it in the first place.

It may be frustrating, not to mention exhausting, that you have to take the time to help others understand what you need. But this is part of living with grief. It’s part of the healing, coping process. Plus, if you don’t, you’re setting yourself up for more awkward, painful moments. Therefore, communicating with your comforters — be it through a spoken conversation, a letter, or an email — is wise. You won’t have a great deal of energy to reach out to others, but find a way that works for you. Let your comforters know:

* what helps
* what doesn’t help
* the truth about how you are feeling
* how thankful you are for their friendship.”

~Samuel J. Hodges and Kathy Leonard, Grieving With Hope

It IS frustrating AND exhausting.

But I am learning (slowly, very slowly!) that it is oh, so much better!

Instead of energy spent on being wounded and trying to hide it, I’m learning to speak up, own the wounds and suggest ways to prevent them in the future.

I’ll be honest, not everyone around me appreciates it. I am sometimes met with exactly what I hate: confrontation, opposition, accusations of selfishness and no more understanding than I had before I risked transparency.

But at least I’ve unburdened myself of what I could. I’ve given them tools to use (if they want to) in helping my heart heal.

There is so little I can control in this journey.

This is one place I can give it a shot.

Bereaved Parents Month Post: There Is NO Shame In Getting Help

Shame is a shackle as sure as any chains forged from iron.

And it often finds its home in the hearts of those who bury a child.

Bereaved parents may feel shame for lots of reasons…Shake Off the Shame

When Self-Control Is In Short Supply

Have you ever tried to squeeze into too-small jeans, managed to get them over your hips, sucked in and zipped up only to realize that all that extra “you” is now spilling out over the top of the waistband?

Sometimes that’s how life after loss feels.

Too much emotion, too much baggage, too much EVERYTHING that has to fit inside a very narrow set of other people’s expectations and tolerance for self-expression.

I find that I CAN squeeze my words and actions into that skinny space-for awhile.

But then sure as anything, the real me pops out the top and there I am-exposed to the world- warts and all.

I’ve discovered that self-control is not a limitless commodity.

Now before my Bible believing friends remind me that it is part of the fruit of the Spirit, I want to say this: it sure is! And because the Spirit of Jesus lives inside me I can promise you I am more self-controlled than I would otherwise be.

BUT…

When every single word, action, thought and feeling has to be reined in every waking moment, there is not enough self-control this side of heaven to do THAT!

So I find that some days I just need to stay away from people. Because if I don’t, I’m going to be ugly.

And other days I can do people but I can’t control my eating.

Still other days I can do people and count calories but memories leak out of my eyes and I blubber my way through until darkness brings sleep and relief.

There is just so much inside me now.

So much that really can’t be laid bare or it would scare everyone else half to death.

So I keep trying to squeeze myself into the constraints that make me fit for company.

But beware- I might pop out any minute. ❤

I Need A Little Help From My Friends

I’ve been asked to speak to a group of healthcare professionals and social workers employed by the hospice industry.

I plan to share a talk entitled “Lifting the Veil on Grief: the Ongoing Impact of Loss on Individuals, Families and Society”

But I need your help.

Because Dominic left for heaven suddenly, in a motorcycle accident, I did not have any interaction with the healthcare system specific to his death. And while I can speak about the grief that comes AFTER, I’d like to also speak a bit on what parents, siblings and other close family members need from these folks when a child goes to heaven in a hospital or hospice care facility.

So I have a few questions:

What did a nurse, hospice worker, social worker or other professional do that blessed you around the time of your child’s death?
What did they do that was unhelpful or even detrimental?
Did any professional present offer grief counseling or recommend a grief support group? If they did, did you take advantage of that resource? Why or why not?
What do you want these folks to know about your family’s experience?
What would you say if you could speak to them today, in light of your experience?

Please note that comments left on the blog site are PUBLIC. But you are welcome to comment in the closed Facebook groups where I post the blog everyday and those comments are PRIVATE.

You can also use the “Contact” link to email me comments that will only be seen by me.

I will not use any identifying information when compiling your comments so please share freely and in complete confidence.

I want to represent the bereaved parent community honestly, bravely and gracefully.

Your participation will help me do that.

Thanks in advance.

I knew I could count on you!

Bereaved Parents Month Post: A Broken Heart

I wrote this post in response to the deaths of Debbie Reynolds and Carrie Fisher in December, 2016. Debbie died of a broken heart within a day of hearing of her daughter’s death.

It was an opportunity to educate others about the reality of child loss and a parent’s broken heart while the world’s attention was focused on the subject.

Like so many other things competing for headlines and social media hits, it was only a hot topic for a brief while.

But for those of us living with the daily reality of a missing child and a broken heart this still rings true.

I think Bereaved Parents Month is an appropriate time to revisit it. ❤

“The world is stunned by the deaths of Carrie Fisher at 60 and her mother Debbie Reynolds just one day later.

And it should be.”

Read the rest here: A Broken Heart

Obliterated

You think because you have “imagined” it, you have an inkling.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate (we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death. We misconstrue the nature of even those few days or weeks. We might expect if the death is sudden to feel shock. We do not expect this shock to be obliterative, dislocating to both body and mind.
~Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

This was one of the most surprising things to me-that in spite of all the books I’d read, movies I’d seen, people I’d known (who had grieved a loss in my company)- I knew absolutely nothing of grief.

I did not know it would totally destroy who I was-leaving bits so small that I had no idea how to put them back together.

I did not know it would so completely block the light of the sun that I wouldn’t be able to tell day from night.

I didn’t know that it would change the taste of food, the smell of flowers, the sound of the wind so that everything I tasted, smelled and heard was death.

Thankfully, slowly, the bits have come back together and formed a semblance of the me that was before.

Before grief.

But not really the same. A hollowed out husk of who I was. Familiar shape without the substance.

I’m learning to live with the me that’s left.

Holding on to hope.

Leaning into love.

Original artist : Albert György
Bronze Statue located at Lake Geneva, Switzerland

Prayer After Child Loss: What’s the Point?

One of the most devastating questions I had to face after Dominic ran ahead to heaven was, “What difference does prayer make?”

I had prayed-diligently prayed-for every one of my children since before they were born.

Even Dominic’s name, which means “belonging to God” was chosen carefully to reflect my heart’s desire that this child follow hard after Jesus.

Dominic had served Christ’s church with his time, talents and resources his whole life. Yet he was not quite 24 when he met Jesus face to face.

So why didn’t prayer “work”? Why did my son die in an accident when others live?

I thought I understood prayer.

I thought that if I followed the formula I’d been taught:

praise God;
confess my sins;
thank Him for the blessings He gave;
and then submit my petitions;

He would be obligated to grant them.

But I was wrong.

Prayer is not a vending machine-put something in and get something out.

I wrote this just a few months after he left us:

Did the mother whose son died pray less or with less faith than the mother whose son lives?

We must be careful to remember that God is sovereign and while we are commanded to pray, our words do not dictate His actions. He alone knows the end from the beginning. He alone is the Alpha and Omega.

I now understand that prayer is privileged communication with the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe.

It is an opportunity to align my heart with His.

It’s a way to tap into the Living Water that Jesus promised the Samaritan woman He met at the well.

It’s two-way conversation where I need to do as much listening as talking.

So I no longer come with a basket full of petitions, hoping they are granted.

Instead I kneel, hands outstretched. longing only for His touch, His Presence, His grace, mercy and sustaining strength.

I still pray but it is a simple prayer:

“Lord, I need You.”

❤

Walk A Mile In My Shoes

It’s an old standby-before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes.

But we rarely take time to do that.

Instead we look at another heart and assume that if they are struggling, it’s because they aren’t trying as hard as we might in the same circumstances.

Or we pick apart whatever tiny efforts they are making toward progress because it isn’t fast enough or far enough to suit us.

Then our own path becomes so rock strewn and broken we realize no matter how much energy and positive thinking a body puts forth, there are some roads where an inch a day is a downright miracle.

One thing burying my child is teaching me is this: Every single person I meet is carrying a burden I know nothing about.

And most are doing the very best they can to bear that load and still do life.

So I give grace.

I speak courage

I extend a helping hand whenever I can.

This life is short and hard and it’s hardly worth adding to another heart’s load.

❤

Bereaved Parents Month Post: What The Bereaved Need From Friends and Family During the Holidays

I’m taking the opportunity during July to re-post some articles that have been popular and helpful in the past.

One of the most trying seasons for grieving parents extends from November through the first week of January.

The holidays are hard for so many people, but especially for parents trying to navigate these family focused holidays without the presence of a child that they love.

I know it’s still several months away, but once school starts it seems the weeks roll past faster and faster until suddenly there’s no time to plan and the day is upon us.

I highly recommend speaking to family and friends NOW. Make plans NOW. When folks have plenty of time to make adjustments, it is much more likely they will accommodate a grieving heart’s need for change.

I know it is hard.  I know you don’t truly understand how I feel. You can’t. It wasn’t your child.
I know I may look and act like I’m “better”. I know that you would love for things to be like they were: BEFORE.  But they aren’t.
I know my grief interferes with your plans.  I know it is uncomfortable to make changes in traditions we have observed for years.  But I can’t help it.  I didn’t ask for this to be my life.
I know that every year I seem to need something different. I know that’s confusing and may be frustrating. But I’m working this out as I go. I didn’t get a “how to” manual when I buried my son. It’s new for me every year too.
So I’m trying to make it easier on all of us.

Read the rest here: Holidays and Grief: What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family

We Are Not Home Yet

So often.

SO. OFTEN.

I feel out of place, out of sorts, out of time on this earth. But you know what? I’m meant to be uncomfortable here.

This is not my really, truly home.

Nope. I’m like Abraham, wandering through this place looking for a city whose Architect and Builder is God.

When I remember that, it’s pure freedom-all the way down to my bones.

❤

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