Except for a few years early in childhood, I have never liked Halloween. The combination of darkness and creepiness makes my skin crawl.
And now, this side of child loss it makes me angry.
Read the rest here: Halloween
Except for a few years early in childhood, I have never liked Halloween. The combination of darkness and creepiness makes my skin crawl.
And now, this side of child loss it makes me angry.
Read the rest here: Halloween
When someone invites you in and serves up her deepest pain along with the coffee it might feel like a trap or a burden or a bother.
But it’s actually an act of great respect and trust.
Not everyone gets the privilege of hearing a heart laid bare and broken, vulnerable and uncovered.
If you are entrusted with such a treasure, consider it a sacred privilege.
Treat it with care.
Carry it carefully.
Wrap it in love.
❤
We don’t mean to speak words that echo like a whistle in an empty auditorium.
But we do.
We open our mouths and pour out platitudes because that’s what’s been poured into us.
But we need to stop. We need to listen.
And then we need to respond to the heart that stands before us and not to our need to shut down and shut up and shut out another person’s pain.
It’s hard to choose compassion. It’s hard to lean in and listen well. It’s hard to let our hearts get all tangled up with someone else’s when we could just walk away.
I am well aware that you have a life of your own full of drama, daily duties and demands. I don’t want to drain you dry.
Truly.
But I might need just a moment of your time and a bit of your courage to make it through my own darkness and despair.
One word.
One REAL word.
“I’m sorry. That is awful.”
“I hate that you have this heavy burden.”
“How can I pray for you?”
“I don’t know what to say, but I want you to know I’m here and not going anywhere.”
When I was a little girl, I struggled mightily being afraid of the dark.
Sometimes I could barely close my eyes because I was scared something terrible would happen between going to sleep and waking up.
I outgrew that as I grew into my faith.
But after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I found myself again afraid to go to sleep.
Not because of “monsters” hiding beneath the bed but because it was between sleep and wake that he left.
I fell asleep with four living children and woke up with three.
I’m still not so good at falling asleep or staying asleep-just another change child loss has wrought in my life. Most nights I have to talk myself into it.
I recite truth to my spirit, sing songs to my soul.
I remind my heart that God was with me and was with Dominic the night he was killed.
He was with me the morning I got the news and Dominic is with Him forever in Heaven.
I’ve learned that leaning into Him, I can find rest and wake to a new day, confident that whatever the sunrise brings, I am not alone.
You don’t have to bury a child to know that changing long-standing family traditions around holidays is a hard, hard thing.
Just ask a parent trying to work out Thanksgiving and Christmas for the first time after an adult child marries. Suddenly the way things have “always been” are no longer the way things are.
If you’ve decided to try to do things differently this year, you know that means telling other folks who might not like it.
And that’s really hard.
But the sooner you have those conversations, the better.
Because the only thing that makes it worse is procrastinating until it feels like an ambush to your extended family and friends.
Read the rest here: Grief, Holidays and Hard Conversations
I have never wanted to make my life journey with blinders on. I realized young that MY perspective is not the only one. I understand that more clearly now.
So I try hard to think about, acknowledge and accommodate the feelings and needs of others.
But it’s especially challenging since Dominic left us. And doubly so this time of year when every sight, smell and song screams, “It’s the holidays and HE IS NOT HERE!“
I may not be as thoughtful to some in my circle as want to be, but I will expend every ounce of energy and effort I can muster to make space for my living children’s needs during this season.
Read the rest here: Holidays and Grief: Surviving Siblings
I wish I had found some of these ideas before we headed into our first set of holidays after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
It would have helped so very much.
So I’m sending these out early enough so that someone else may be both validated and liberated in planning how to approach one of the most difficult times of year for bereaved parents.
I pray they reach the heart that needs them. ❤
It cannot be overstated: holidays are extremely hard after loss. Every family gathering highlights the hole where my son SHOULD be, but ISN’T.
There is no “right way” or “wrong way” to handle the holidays after losing a child.
For many, there is only survival-especially the very first year.
These days also stir great internal conflict: I want to enjoy and celebrate my living children and my family still here while missing my son that isn’t. Emotions run high and are, oh so difficult to manage.
Read the rest here: Practical Ideas for Dealing with the Holidays after Child Loss
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.
Read the rest here: Grief and Holidays:What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family
Thanksgiving is hard on my heart.
My birthday is usually close to, and sometimes on, Thanksgiving. So we often celebrate them together. What makes that especially painful for me since Dominic ran ahead to heaven is that the last birthday before he left was a surprise party at his apartment.
It was wonderful and loud and fun and filled with laughter and love.
So all those good but achingly hard memories are wrapped up with the turkey and dressing.
Read the rest here: Holidays and Grief: Thanksgiving Plan
When faced with the upcoming holidays and already rapid heartbeat and fading strength, the last thing a bereaved parent wants to hear is , “Make a plan”.
But the truth is, if you don’t it will be so. much. worse.
No one can tell YOU what the plan should be. Each family is unique. Each year brings different challenges-declining health, moves, children or grandchildren born and a dozen other variables that must be accounted forTHIS year versus years past.
Read the rest here: Holidays and Grief: You Need a Plan