None Of This Is Easy

It gets harder and harder to be honest the longer I walk this Valley.

Because it’s natural that those for whom Dom’s death was a moment in time, a short season of mourning, an unfortunate incident they sometimes look back on with sadness and regret but don’t live with daily move on.

The further we get in time from the actual moment of Dominic’s sudden departure, the larger the gap between my heart and theirs.

I understand that.

But that chasm is more and more difficult for me to bridge.

It requires energy and effort I don’t always have to reach out and reach across and try to help them understand me.

So sometimes I just don’t.

There is always going to be a blank space where Dominic SHOULD be, but isn’t.

There are always going to be places that aren’t colored in because that part of the canvas belongs to HIM.

There is always, always, always going to be pain when I line up for family photos, set the table for family dinners, go on family trips, wrap presents, send cards, list names on documents because HE IS NO LONGER HERE.

Others think the water fills in where the stone sank down.

But my mama heart knows exactly where those ripples ought to be.

So I quietly remember, quietly mourn, quietly mark that special spot-smiling on the outside.

No one the wiser.

No one the sadder.

No one but me anything at all.

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.

4 thoughts on “None Of This Is Easy”

  1. Melanie – No, NONE of this is easy. I read your posts and relate to EVERY SINGLE WORD. For us, it’s been 10 years since our only son was killed in a boating accident (run over by his best friend). But I posted the following message on the 10th anniversary of the last time I saw his sweet smile and heard his laughter … and I wanted you to read it. Please know that there will always be a vacancy, be there will also be light again, even joy. Hugs to you, Doms mom. Here’s my post: 10 years in … I’m me again.

    I don’t look the same (definitely more gray, definitely more wrinkles) but I look better today than I did at the 5 year mark. The pain is no longer “written all over my face.” The smart ass, witty, pretty-chill, creative, dependable, stable, typically happy ME is resurfacing again (not every day, but most days) The sad, angry, “lost”, distant, vacant, nervous, absent-minded, apathetic person that I became after my 15 year old son died in a boating accident is fading (thank goodness!) I can finally look forward, get excited and engage in life (again, most days but not all) and celebrate the accomplishments and milestones with my beautiful daughter, future son in law, family and friends. I still love my husband and cherish the time we get to spend together, planning the next chapter. I appreciate the friends and family that stood by our side through the darkest of days, but I also embrace the new friendships that have been formed with people who liked and accepted the “broken” me and didn’t compare me to the person they thought I should be. I can THINK! I can concentrate on something for more than a split second. I finally WANT to get involved and make things happen. While I am FOREVER broken in ways most people will never comprehend, I’ve learned to live with a gaping hole in my heart. I am healthy. The constant headache (front left side) has subsided, the knot in my stomach has loosened, my balance is restored, my eyes can focus, and the fog in my brain has lifted. I can participate, without faking it. I can smile again (seriously I had to relearn this skill that used come effortlessly). I am still dedicated to Robby’s memory, and his life. This will NEVER change. Not a day goes by without the thought of him. Not one. And I am grateful for that. I’m a survivor. This journey is forever. I don’t expect to get “better”. I’ve accepted that I am what I am. Broken, but happy. Being Robby’s mom is part of who I am. A HUGE part. But it is not all of me. Love to each of you angel moms and dad,

    Sue J … Aka Robby’s mom


    Liked by 3 people

      1. You may always share the posts in your group. The only thing I ask is that you share it in its entirety, unedited and with the website included. Thank you for asking. ❤


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