bereaved siblings – thelifeididntchoose

Navigating Grief: 31 Practical Ways to Love Grieving Parents

When Dominic died, I didn’t get a manual on what to do. I didn’t get an orientation into how to be a grieving parent. So when some people asked how they could help me and my family, I really didn’t know.

A comment repeated often by bereaved parents is, “Please don’t use the phrase, ‘let me know if there is anything I can do’, people mean well, but this is unhelpful.”

Another mom put it this way, ” There are too many meanings to this phrase. It can mean anywhere from, ‘I really want to help’ to ‘I don’t know what to say so I’ll say this but I don’t really want you to ask’. Also it’s so hard to make any decisions–trying to figure out what you might want or be able to do is overwhelming. Instead, offer specific things you can do and make plans to do them.”

For those that want to help, here ia a list of 31 ways you can provide practical and timely help to grieving parents:

Show up and answer phones, open the door to visitors, find room for food they bring. Act as a buffer zone for the parents.

Consider donating PTO, sick leave or vacation days to a bereaved parent if your employer allows it. Many employers allow three (3) days leave for a death in the family with no special consideration for the death of a child. Three days is not long enough and many parents can’t afford to stay home without pay.

Donate sky miles, rental car points, hotel points or other loyalty points to the parents or family members that need to travel. There are many expenses associated with burial and the family may not have extra money for travel.

Pick up family members from the airport that are coming for services.

Offer to accompany the parents to the funeral home as they make arrangements.

Donate a burial plot. Few people have one picked out for their child.

With the family’s permission, set up an account to take donations to help with burial expenses or the medical bills that will be arriving soon.

Offer an extra bedroom to out-of-town family members or friends. Not every home can accomodate extra guests and the parents need some space of their own.

Bring folding tables and chairs to the home–they are easy to set up and take down as needed to accomodate extra people in the house.

Respect a grieving parent’s need for some private time and space. If we retreat to a back room, let us. Check on us quietly and gently, but don’t follow us around asking, “Are you OK?” No, we are not. And being asked over and over is stressful.

It is always helpful to bring food. Set up a meal schedule on Takethemameal.com. There is a way to note any special dietary restrictions. When people sign up, they can see what others are bringing/have brought. Driving directions are available on the site and the family can ask that meals be brought at a standard time so there is someone home to receive them.

Bring ice in an ice chest for drinks.

If a parent has a chronic health condition like diabetes or heart problems, check in with them regularly to see if they are taking their medication and if they are experiencing new symptoms.

Offer to drive grieving parents where they need to go. Deep grief can impair driving as much as or more than alcohol or drugs. Be willing to sit in the lobby or parking lot–we may not want company finalizing arrangements or speaking with our pastor.

Clean the house. And don’t allow your intimate glimpse to become a source of gossip.

Don’t turn on the television or radio unless the family asks you to or does it themselves. If you want to know the score, check your phone or go to your car.

Mow the yard, tidy flower beds, sweep, rake leaves.

Bring toilet paper, paper towels, paper plates and napkins.

If one or both of the bereaved parents are caregivers to an elderly relative, offer to take over that responsibility for awhile. (Only if you are willing and competent to do so.)

Take surviving younger children for a walk in the park, to get ice cream or a hamburger. Not all children will be comfortable leaving their parents. Even if they don’t understand what is going on, they may feel insecure and upset.

Sit with and minister to surviving older children. We are concerned about our surviving children as well as the child we lost. Knowing someone is loving on our kids is a great comfort.

Clean the family’s car before the funeral.

Make sure there are bottles of water and maybe a snack in the car for afterwards–often family members can’t eat and forget to drink before the day of the funeral.

Begin assembling electronic photos from friends for a slideshow at the funeral, if the family requests one. Make sure you run choices by the parents before you flash them on a screen.

Make a list of appropriate songs that might help the family choose. Don’t be hurt or offended if we use other songs instead–your list may very well have nudged our memory and been helpful.

Offer to drive the family to the funeral and burial.

Attend the funeral. We want to know our child mattered. We need to know you care.

If your church provides a meal for the family after burial, and you are asked to bring a dish, bring one.

Offer to help pack up a child’s dorm room or apartment. We may welcome the help or we may want to do it alone–it has nothing to do with you.

Many grieving mamas want something that smells like their child. If you are helping to clean in the first hours or days, don’t wash all the child’s clothing. Put a few worn items in a ziploc bag for her to have later.

Don’t abandon the family after service. There is such a sense of finality when the coffin is lowered or the memorial over. Usually lots of people are around and then we go back to the house and quiet overwhelms us. If you are close to the family, consider joining them for a little while when they first get home.

Dear friends, do you think you’ll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it? For instance, you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, “Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!” and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup—where does that get you? Isn’t it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?

James 2:16-17 MSG

Are you a bereaved parent? Have you walked this path with a friend or family member? Please add your suggestions to these in the comments section.

An Uncomfortable Exchange

The other day I had an uncomfortable exchange with someone that started with a phone call and ended with a series of texts.

I’ve learned a lot about the unhelpful things folks say to grievers and at this point I can let most remarks roll off like raindrops.

When someone says, “God needed another angel” or “I know just how you feel” (and they do not share my experience) or “at least you have other children/grandchildren” I usually smile, cut the conversation short and hang up or walk away.

So when this old family friend called and asked in a chipper voice, “How are you??!!”, I told them not well since my granddaughter just went to Heaven two days ago.

That invited several platitudes.

I endured them, hoping for a quick end to a painful conversation.

Then the spouse chimed in because they could not contain themselves and felt compelled to share a bit of friend circle news with me.

When I said, firmly but politely, I could not listen to that right now, they got upset.

I genuinely try to educate people outside the grief community when I can so I sent a text explaining that (especially!) when a loss is fresh, such conversations are incredibly painful.

The person responded by telling me I was rude and they were highly offended.

In the early days after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I would have curled up on my bed and slept away the pain such an exchange inflicted on my wounded heart.

I’m stronger now.

And I’m not just fighting for myself, I’m fighting for my newly bereaved son and his wife.

So after giving it some time and some thought, I wrote a text.

People might consider it harsh but I will not make death easy for others. It’s not easy on the families directly impacted and it’s not my responsibility to manage the feelings of folks who are not even in the grief circle.

I gave graphic details (which I will not recount here to spare my precious readers who actually lived through things like them) regarding the brief life and difficult death of my precious Holly.

I wanted to shock them into realizing the giant gap between the imagined experience of child loss and the LIVED experience of child loss.

I concluded by saying that if “rude” was the epitome of awful in their world, I was thankful they didn’t have anything to compare it to.

I am quicker to extend grace after all these years because I know many, if not most, folks are genuinely doing the best they can.

But I have boundaries.

I am not required to set myself on fire to keep others warm.

And I’m doing no one a favor by allowing someone who wields words like swords to go unchallenged.

There are still lots of times I remain quiet.

This wasn’t one of them.

An Old Familiar Ache

Sunday morning my sweet granddaughter, Holly, was gathered into the arms of Jesus.

Her little heart just couldn’t bear the weight of this earthly life.

I know her Uncle Dominic will love her well until we join them.

In the meantime I’m left with that old familiar ache-the heaviness sitting on my chest, threatening to squeeze the air from my lungs.

I recognized it immediately even though it’s been a long time since it felt so heavy.

We grieve because we love.

Tears, wails, laments are all reasonable responses to loss.

Death is the enemy. Don’t ever let anyone try to spiritualize that truth away.

God hates death.

Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb. His tears weren’t mere sentiment. They were proof that He longed for death to die.

I hate that my son and daughter-in-law now walk the path of child loss. I hate my grandsons will grow up wondering what their baby sister might “look like now”.

It’s another invitation into the deeper grace and greater love of a God who gave His only Son because He is unwilling for sin to win.

I’m thankful that because Jesus came, lived and gave HIS life, death does not have the last word.

“Living He loved me, Dying He saved me, Buried He carried my sins far away, Rising He justified, freely, forever, One day He’s coming-O Glorious Day!“

Glorious Day by Casting Crowns

Christmas 2025: Best Christmas Present EVER

I’ve had plenty of beautiful Christmases.

I’ve had more than a decade of more somber ones.

But when our pastor recently asked, “What was the best Christmas gift you ever received?” I didn’t have to think hard at all.

It was my daughter, Fiona.

Read the rest here:Best Christmas Gift EVER

It’s Not Just Christmas

Several times this week I’ve had messages or seen posts from bereaved parents feeling like failures because Christmas is STILL hard, even many years after their child went to Heaven.

Some of them heaped the guilt on themselves but many were responding to a family member or friend who felt compelled to tell them they should “be better by now” or “remember their other children” or “not ruin the holiday for everyone else”.

Other broken hearted parents have shared that they actually felt stronger and better able to face Christmas in years past but this year is hitting differently.

For them, it might be because Christmas is never JUST Christmas.

We come to this season with memories and emotional baggage of a lifetime. And for bereaved parents, the heaviest load we carry is our child(ren)’s absence. We also bear the additional burden of this particular year’s challenges, losses, physical and emotional stress and whatever lesser, but also energy intensive, cares and responsibilities we may have.

So I’d like to encourage my fellow road weary travelers.

Be gentle with yourself.

Take care of yourself first (when possible-I know littles make that much harder). You cannot pour from an empty cup.

Have honest conversations with those that matter most to you and limit conversation with those that only make you sadder and more stressed.

If you are concerned about your earthbound children, now is a perfect time to take them aside-one on one- and let them know that if it had been THEM, they would be equally grieved and missed.

Remember that saying “no” is a complete sentence. You don’t have to make excuses or satisfy someone else’s curiosity.

If you are at your limit for making merry, don’t.

There is no moral imperative that Christ’s birth be celebrated at all (although I think it’s a beautiful tradition). You have not failed Him or anyone else if you can’t participate in all the church activities this time of year.

This is the twelfth Christmas for us after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven and it’s a tough one.

For the first time since the first one, I’ve been unable to do even one thing to get ready or incline my heart toward anything like a “regular” Christmas.

My father suffered a major stroke in September and I have been at his home with him since then. My oldest son is expecting his third child and his wife is having complications that guarantee this little one will make an early appearance. Every member of my family is in different places and we are reduced to short phone calls and text messages for connection.

I would usually at least have a lovely pine scented candle to light each dark morning and evening but my father can’t tolerate the smell. So even this one ritual has been denied.

I’m trying desperately to get care lined up for my dad while worrying about the ever changing status of my DIL and granddaughter. The internet is slow, cell service is worse and I spend way too much time just attempting to contact people.

My father refuses to go anywhere for Christmas and I will, undoubtedly, be with my son’s family by then if the baby comes.

I’m sharing all that to say this: Every other challenge and burden is heaped on top of the already unbearable weight of missing Dominic. I’ve been barely dragging myself through each day.

So I’m taking my own advice.

I talked to my family and together we’ve agreed that we are streamlining and eliminating everything except what’s necessary for the grandchildren to have Christmas. The adults are fine.

I love my father but he is in his right mind (despite the stroke) and if he wants to be alone at Christmas, that’s his choice.

I’m putting on my stretchy pants and enjoying whatever holiday cheer my husband, my children and I can muster as we (hopefully) bask in the glow of a tiny new life.

So if you are struggling, dear heart, find the way forward that lifts as many burdens as you can.

Refuse to take on another person’s baggage.

Jesus came so that we don’t have to carry this alone.

He is here-Immanuel-God With Us.

Children Grieve Too: Children’s Grief Awareness Day

Today is Children’s Grief Awareness Day.

I’m thankful a day is set aside to focus on children’s grief because it’s so easy for their grief to be overlooked, underrated and even dismissed.

Grown ups often tout the line, “Kids are resilient. They will adapt.“

And while it’s true that from the OUTSIDE it might look like a child is OK or even thriving, on the INSIDE she may be curled up into a ball or he may be angry and resentful.

Sometimes these feelings find unhealthy expression through addiction or risky behavior. Sometimes they simply grow into a giant overwhelming shadow that darkens the child’s whole world.

My own mother’s mama died suddenly from a stroke when she was only ten years old. Within days, Mama was whisked away from everyone and everything she knew to live with her oldest married sister.

No one understood then that children needed to grieve so Mama never really did.

At least not out loud where anyone could hear.

But that grief informed her entire life-it made her kinder to many people and made it harder for her to develop deep attachments to others. She was only able to talk about it in the last couple of years of her life when failing health, my own loss and many hours spent in hospital rooms together created safe spaces for her to share.

Children grieve whether we observe it or not.

Children need safe spaces to express that grief even when it hurts our hearts to hear the words or see the tears.

No child should have to wait until they are grown to acknowledge his pain or her brokenness.

Just like we parents, surviving siblings grieve what they’ve lost AND what will never be. Graduations, weddings, new babies, holidays, birthdays and other occasions mark their hearts too.

Children bear other burdens as well.

They are often targeted by those outside the grief circle for updates on the family while their own grief goes unnoticed. After five years, my kids have developed a standard answer to the question, “How’s your mom doing?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

Next.

Sometimes children feel they must be extra good and extra quiet in an effort to make up for the sadness in a home after the death of a child. Sometimes they take on adult roles, shouldering responsibilities a depressed or grieving parent can’t manage right now. Sometimes they struggle with misplaced guilt when their hearts are jealous of all the attention focused on the missing child.

Often they just wish things were back to how they were before tragedy struck.

Your children may never tell you these things unless you ask.

And they may not confirm them even if you do.

But rest assured, they are grieving too.

Give them permission to do it out loud.

Remembering Our Children Beyond Anniversaries

My son’s death is a point in time for people outside my immediate grief circle. It’s a date on a calendar. There is a period after his name.

But it is an ongoing experience for me and my family.

We don’t only remember on birthdays, holidays and anniversary days, we can never forget.

Yet often others do.

Read the rest here: I’m Sorry

When You Have to Live With Unanswered Questions

It’s been over two decades since the Towers fell. Hard to believe-no matter how great the tragedy, life goes on.

Like many, I was watching things as they happened that day.

My husband, an architect and engineer, saw the wobble in the first tower and knew, he knew, it was going to collapse. Horrified I began to understand that whoever was still in that building was running out of time.

And I cried, oh, how I cried. It was awful.

Since then I’ve lived my own tragedy.

My son was unexpectedly and instantly taken from us in an accident.

So when I’m reminded of 9/11 my heart takes me right to those left behind.

And while politicians and pundits can debate the reasons for the attack, can argue about what could have been done, should have been done and why and when-they can never answer the real question in the heart of every family who buried a loved one because of the events of that day.

Why MY husband, wife, daughter, son? How do I make sense of this senseless tragedy?

The answer is, “You can’t.”

You cannot know why one person chose to go this way and lived and another went a different direction and died. It’s impossible to understand the series of events that made someone late for work that day but lead another to show up early.

Last minute travel plan changes saved some from being aboard the fateful planes and put others in a seat.

I can’t know exactly why my son lost control of his motorcycle that night. I will live the rest of my life without an answer to that question.

It’s an ongoing challenge to face the discomfort of things NOT making sense. It goes against human nature to acknowledge that the world is far less predictable than we like to believe.

It takes courage to greet each new day with knowledge that ANYTHING might happen-not only beautiful and wonderful things, but ugly and awful things as well.

If I let my heart dwell on the questions of “why?” and “control”, I am paralyzed, unable to take another step.

There’s no clear path through a world filled with the rubble of broken lives and broken people.

So I turn my heart toward Christ and His promise to never leave or forsake me.

And I am emboldened to take the next step because I know He is already there, even in the dark.

Fellow Grievers- Love BIG, Love BRAVE.

I was unprepared for the many traveling companions grief brought with it. I knew to expect sadness and despair–but what about anxiety and guilt?

I had no idea how large a space guilt would soon occupy in my thoughts and heart-guilt over what I did or didn’t do when Dominic was still with us, guilt over what I do or don’t do now.

I can do nothing to change what happened in years past.

There is no magic time machine that will allow me to go back and linger long over his jokes or cling harder when he hugged me.

But I can choose to approach today in a way that frees me of foolish guilt and unnecessary regrets.

I can’t do everything but I can do something.

I can love big and brave and refuse to waste the days I have with the people that mean the most to me.

do what you can with what you have where you are

Grief Work 2025: A Letter to My Living Children*

I shared this for the first time eight years ago.

Before my mother’s illness and death, before the frighteningly early arrival of our little Captain and his brother, before an overseas deployment, a destructive hurricane, Covid19, my husband’s cancer diagnosis and too many other stressful events to list.

I have watched my kids meet every challenge-sometimes with grace, sometimes with grit, sometimes with both.

They are different people than they would have been if Dominic still walked beside us. They know things their peers can’t even guess.

We all lost so much when we lost Dom. But we still have each other.

And that’s a treasure.

I never thought it possible to love you more than I already did.

But I do.

Your brother’s untimely departure has opened my heart in a whole new way to the glory that is your presence. It has made me drink you in like water in the desert.

No more do I take even a moment for granted. Never again will I be “too busy” to listen to you, to hug you, to greet you on the porch when you decide to make your way back home.

I promised you when that deputy came to the door we would survive.

And we have.

I promised you that I would never raise Dominic onto a hallowed pedestal that obliterated his orneriness and only kept track of his laudable qualities.

I pray I have lived up to the promise.

We are changed-every one of us.

I am so very proud of you for continuing to live. It would have been easy to give up. It would have been easy to “live for the moment” and give in to hedonism.

You haven’t done that.

You have had to carry more weight than you should. I am so very anxious to see how you take this awful pain and weave it into your own stories-how this dark thread helps define who you become and how you choose to impact your world.

You have lent me your strength when mine was waning.

You have checked on me and loved me and borne patiently with me and with one another when it would have been easier to walk away and try to create a life outside this place of brokenness and vulnerability.

I am always cautious when ascribing feelings and words to our departed Dominic-it’s easy to make him say or feel whatever is most convenient since he’s not here to dispute it. But I am certain of this: while he would never, ever have wanted us to bear this awful burden, he would be so, so proud of the way we have supported one another in doing so.

Like always, our family has closed ranks and lifted together the weight that would have crushed us individually.

It’s who we are.

It’s who we have always been.

*I am absolutely convinced that Dominic is very much ALIVE today in the presence of Jesus. But for now, I’m denied his daily companionship,

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