Some days there are just no words for this journey.
Sometimes I can only feel what I feel
and do what I do
and cry when I cry.
Today is like that.
I cannot wrap my mind around the FACT that my son is dead.
Read the rest here: No Words
Category: bereaved parent
You Are Missing From Me
There’s a subtle difference between the English phrase, “I’m missing you” and the french expression, “you are missing from me”.
When Dominic went on a trip or wasn’t present for a meal or hadn’t called in a couple of days, I missed him.
But it was the kind of missing where you can catch up eventually.
I could have filled in the details of what happened while he was gone and still get his reaction, advice, input and unique perspective.
But now, things are utterly changed.
He is missing from me.
Untouchable, unreachable and unknowable.
The part of me uniquely reflected from the mirror that is my third-born child is just gone.
And there is no way to get it or him back.
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Do This, Not That: How To Help A Grieving Friend
“Above all, show your love. Be willing to stand beside the gaping hole that has opened up in your friend’s life, without flinching or turning away. Your steadiness of presence is the absolute best thing you can give.” ~ Refuge in Grief
I truly believe that our friends and family WANT to be helpful as they companion us in grief.
But if they’ve never known great loss, they may well be clueless.
I love to share ideas, graphics and stories that can help them learn how.
Here’s a good list, just right for sharing:
- Don’t compare griefs, ask questions.
- Don’t minimize, respect their experience.
- Don’t give compliments, trust your friend.
- Don’t be a cheerleader, mirror their reality.
- Don’t talk about “later”, stay in the present moment.
- Don’t evangelize, trust their self-care.
- Don’t start with solutions, get consent.
I’m not computer savvy enough to make graphics like this so I love it when I find them.
I especially like this one which puts so many good ideas in a simple to use, easy to remember format.
These are absolutely perfect for anyone walking with a grieving friend.
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Repost: What I’m Learning From Other Bereaved Parents
There’s a kind of relational magic that happens when people who have experienced the same or similar struggle get together.
In an instant, their hearts are bound in mutual understanding as they look one to another and say, “Me too. I thought I was the only one.”
It was well into the second year after Dominic ran ahead to heaven that I found an online bereaved parent support group. After bearing this burden alone for so many months, it took awhile before I could open my heart to strangers and share more than the outline of my story.
But, oh, when I did! What relief! What beautiful support and affirmation that every. single. thing. that was happening to me and that I was feeling was normal!
Read the rest here: What I’m Learning From Other Bereaved Parents
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Repost: How and Why I Keep Writing-A Shepherd’s Heart
I am still utterly amazed that since November 2015 I have managed a blog post every day.
At first, I was writing because I wanted to make public the things I was learning in this Valley and to honor my missing son.
He had been in Heaven a year and a half by then and it was clear to this mama’s heart that (1) people (including ME before it WAS me!) had absolutely NO IDEA what life after child loss was like once the funeral was over; (2) one way to redeem this pain was to share how God had been faithful even as I struggled; and (3) I just didn’t see too many honest portrayals of life after loss for Christ followers (which is not to say they didn’t/don’t exist but I hadn’t found them).
So I wrote.
Read the rest here: How and Why I Keep Writing: A Shepherd’s Heart
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Grief Journaling Prompts
Journaling has been and continues to be a very important part of my grief journey.
Putting thoughts on paper gets them out of my head.
Writing them down helps me understand them.
Reading them back is an excellent reflective exercise. It’s a way to track progress, recognize repeating patterns and see where I need to do more grief work.
Sometimes I use Scripture, quotes or other prompts to get me started. Often I may look up words in the dictionary and jot down the definition or synonyms or examples. I may draw my way around a concept or cut out pictures from magazines or the newspaper to add to my creation.
There have been days I’ve spent hours and several sheets of paper moving my feelings from my heart to the page.
So if you want to try your hand at journaling, here is a list I find useful.
Don’t set any parameters or have any expectations.
Just write, color, draw or whatever flows naturally.
And if the tears fall, let them.
❤
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Eight Grief Quotes That Help My Heart On Hard Days
I’m kind of selective in what memes I toss around.
I don’t usually share them unless I can agree wholeheartedly with them.
But sometimes a meme is the simplest and most effective way to communicate truth. And sometimes I just need a quick lift on a hard day.
So here are a few I like:
Grief is not a smooth path up and out of the pit of despair, it’s a tangled mess of thoughts, feelings and physical manifestations. Grief is WORK. So, so much work.
Grief is not abnormal. It is not weakness. It is the natural response to loving someone who is no longer within reach. There aren’t any shortcuts on this journey.
This is a hard one. People mean well but unless they have lost a child (or experienced other significant loss) they just don’t realize that grief lasts a lifetime. What is a date on the calendar for everyone else-a finite experience with an endpoint-is an ongoing reality for us.
Sympathy will not outlast grief. The friends who stick around are the ones who understand that. They choose compassion-which lasts forever.
Another way to say it is “Grief is love unfinished”. Grief isn’t something conjured up by a heart. It’s the natural expression of love when the object of that love is no longer available. Grief IS love. So it’s no wonder a parent will grieve the rest of his or her life.
You cannot do the work grief requires without setting aside time and space to do it. Running away, stuffing and distraction seem like real options but they aren’t.
Grief will not be denied.
It will not be ignored.
So face it.
Do the work it takes.
No matter how long it’s been, grief will still surprise you. Tears at the most inopportune moment, memories washing over you like waves, joy and sorrow meeting when the camera flashes. That’s OK. Let it roll. Feel it.
It’s not only OK to ask for help, it’s vitally important to ask for it. NO ONE can bear the burden of grief alone. People around you might not realize that or might not know how to help. ASK. Get counseling if you need to. Get practical household help if you need to. Take medication if you need to. There is nothing shameful in asking for and receiving help.
Finally, rest assured that there is really no way to face this life in the Valley except to simply take it one step-sometimes one breath-at a time. Looking too far down the road will only discourage you. Perseverance IS the victory, dear heart. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. It’s not a sickness that can be “cured”. It’s a heart condition that must be acknowledged and impacts life every single day.
Sometimes when I’m having an especially hard day, I have to remind myself of all these things.
It helps me.
I hope it helps you too. ❤
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Repost: From The Child Not Here on Mother’s Day
My daughter, Fiona, wrote this last year, in the voice of her brother who ran ahead to heaven.
I am so thankful for her and so sorry that she has gained this wisdom at great cost.
Some of the bravest, most loving women I know are those who have suffered one of life’s greatest losses. I hope you know how truly beautiful you are.
“Dear Mom,
Read the rest here: From The Child Not Here on Mother’s Day
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My Sixth Mother’s Day as a Bereaved Mother
When it first happened all I could think about was getting through a minute, then a day and then all the decisions and days leading up to a funeral or memorial service.
There’s no road map.
Even when others come alongside (and many, many did!) there’s just no easy way to navigate that part of the journey.
And then I realized that in addition to all the “regular” days that absolutely, positively break your heart, I had to forge a path through “special” days.
It was overwhelming!
Mother’s Day was especially challenging that first year. Our loss was fresh and we’d had to acknowledge and celebrate two graduations and a wedding was about a month away. How in the world could I honor my living children and also safeguard my broken heart?
We muddled through by having Mother’s Day at my daughter’s apartment co-hosted by some of her sweetest and most compassionate friends. Not a lot of fanfare, but good food, good company and a quiet acknowledgment of Dom’s absence but also my living children’s presence.
It was a gift.
This is my sixth Mother’s Day. Every year is different. Every year presents new challenges and every year things change.
Since discovering there is an International Bereaved Mother’s Day my heart has taken advantage of having a day to think about and honor Dominic and then another day to think about and honor my living children.
That helps.
I wrote this post three years ago but can’t really improve on it so I’ll share it again. I pray that each heart who finds Mother’s Day hard will lean in and take hold of the hem of His garment.
It’s really the only way.
Read the rest here: Mother’s Day as a Bereaved Mother
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Child Loss by Addiction
We talk about a lot of things as if they didn’t reflect a real person and a real life.
Addiction is one of them. And let me just tell you, every single number is a life and behind every single life is a family.
Statistics are easy to toss around until one of those numbers represents YOUR child.
My son was killed in a single-vehicle motorcycle accident. One of the 76 individuals who died on a motorcycle in Alabama in 2014. If you look it up, you’ll find tables printed with clean edges and comparative data one year to the next.
But if you look at me-and hold up a photo from BEFORE-you’ll see grief etched into a mama’s face that can’t be measured, sifted or weighed.
My son was not an addict. He was a health nut. But he liked his motorcycle and never saw the contradiction between spending hours at the gym then putting that beautiful body on a fast moving, unprotected engine-on-wheels. A helmet was not enough to save him that night.
Addicts don’t start out wanting the life so many of them end up living. They take a puff or a pill or a drink and think it’s all in fun. They have no way to know that the one moment of weakness or even purposeful exploration may result in a lifetime of struggle.
Once caught in the cycle of craving and crawling out and caving again they may or may not eventually find the light. They may or may not become sober for the rest of their days. They may or may not have the inner strength, the outside support, the medical intervention and inpatient treatment they need to conquer this demon.
And it is a demon.
Addiction is never a choice even when the first indulgence into drugs or alcohol is.
Parents living with addicted children do everything they can to guide them to help. They try tough love, abundant grace, boundaries, threats and rewards. Some even move their families to try to escape habitual influences on their child-hoping against hope that a new place and new friends will create a safe space where addiction can’t flourish.
It rarely works. In the end, addiction takes too many of our children. Addiction kills.
And the wreckage left the other side of those deaths is enormous. It’s messy and ugly and hard to sort through.
The one thing NO parent of an addicted child needs is someone else’s misguided advice on how they could have “saved” his or her child. They don’t need quips about “seeing it coming”. They don’t need anyone to heap shame on them because of the choices their child made and the disease that robbed them of choice in the end.
So when we talk about addiction and numbers and treatment and responsibility and especially death, we need to remember that every single statistic is a person.
Every single person has a family.
And that family is devastated.
Speak gently. Extend grace. Offer love.
They already know shame.
thelifeididntchoose 