I Don’t Like Mirrors

I hate mirrors.  Not because I’m ashamed of my wrinkles or my fat hips.  But because the face staring back at me now is not one I recognize.

I see someone who’s supposed to be me and can’t quite place her.

Read the rest here: No Mirrors, Please!

Child Loss Changes Everything

Part of the reason I share my story is to provide insight for people who haven’t lost a child into the hearts and lives of those who have.

But mainly it is to be a voice for and to encourage other parents walking this valley by letting them know they aren’t alone, their feelings and experiences are perfectly normal and that just as welcoming a child into your family is a life-altering event, saying good-bye to a child is a life-altering event. 

We do not expect a mom to “get over” the changes having a baby brings to her everyday experience, and we should not expect a  bereaved mom to “get over” the changes burying one brings either.

Want to help?  Read:  Loving the Grieving Heart

Loss Changes You For A Lifetime

I’ve been reminded in the past few days that loss changes everything.

We often wish it didn’t-that it would last only a season and then things would return to normal. But they don’t.

When one life is yanked violently from the fabric of a family the hole simply can’t be mended. You have to learn to live with the fragility and compromised strength that remains.

It’s hard and it keeps on being hard.

❤ Melanie

When a child dies, everything shifts.

Every relationship is altered. 

Read the rest here: Grief Lasts a Lifetime

Grief Doesn’t Stay The Same

The first time I shared this post was two years ago-before my mother’s death.

It had been five long years since Dominic left us and I was beginning to notice reliable, positive changes in the heaviness and quality of grief.

Our grandson was born very premature but his story has a happy, happy ending! He’s growing even more and is such a delight.

There have been other changes too-Covid19, social isolation and my husband’s retirement-all impacted daily life and how I experience Dom’s absence.

I want to offer this bit of hope for those who are just beginning the awful journey of child loss-the pain softens, I’ve grown stronger and better able to carry it, and life, in all its varied forms keeps going.

There ARE some beautiful things ahead.

Hold on.

❤ Melanie

This life is not all sadness and sorrow, death and darkness.  

It was.  For a very, very long time all I could see was distant flickers of light.  

They were just enough to keep me going but not enough to lift the utter blackness that surrounded me.  

Read the rest here: Grief Changes

Unwelcome, Sudden Change

Imagine being used to the modern convenience of electricity at the flip of a switch and then being suddenly plunged into darkness and disconnection.

Unprepared-no matches, no alternative fuel sources, no extra warm clothes for winter days and nights-just plucked from the world you knew and dropped into a world you didn’t.

That’s what it felt like when Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.  No warning, no chance to think through what life might be like, what changes I would have to accommodate, how I would need to face the days, weeks, months and years of his absence.  

Read the rest here: Sudden and Unwelcome Change

Please Accept My Apologies

I used to be a lot better at answering every single comment on the blog, on Facebook pages and in closed groups.

I’m not keeping up at all these days.

And I am very sorry for that!

A recent private message reminded me that some folks may think a lack of response is disapproval or rejection. That made me very sad so I want to set the record straight.

These past few months have been…different.

And challenging.

And topsy-turvy.

My husband retired-which is a good thing. But for the past several years he was working out of town so not only am I adjusting to his being home every day, I’m adjusting to his being home at all.

We’ve worked out a schedule that accommodates his night owl habits and my farm girl hours so that’s going well.

The pandemic, wintry weather and the holidays have dampened my spirits a bit so motivation is a factor.

My recent hospital stay, wrist pain and realization that my hands are simply not going to get better make typing more difficult.

All that to say this: I’m really sorry for not being more attentive, more timely and more responsive to comments. I read every. single. one.

I’m going to try hard to catch up.

If you feel overlooked or are ever concerned there’s something else going on besides my own preoccupation, lack of diligence or oversight, PLEASE message me!

I never, ever want a single heart to feel sad or abandoned because of something I do or don’t do.

I promise you are important to me.

Lots Going On

I wrote a few months ago about how the pandemic changed the routine around here.

My long quiet mornings spent reading and writing were suddenly transformed by our living room serving as office space for my work-at-home husband.

It took awhile to figure out how to adapt but eventually we found a rhythm to our days.

Now life has taken another turn. He’s retiring! Which is a very, very good thing but means I’ve got another boatload of adjusting to do.

Since he’s had an apartment in California for several years, he returned to clean it out and move things here. I need to declutter and rearrange at home to make space for some furniture and other items he’ll be bringing back.

I wish I had been one of those people who spent the past few months of stay-at-home to dig into closets, deep clean corners and dejunk junk drawers but I wasn’t. So that means I’m trying to do it now. Which is not only time consuming but sometimes overwhelming as decades of daily memories fall out of folders, show up in odd places and hit my heart.

I’m soldiering on though.

I doubt I’ll tackle the toughest space-Dominic’s room-before my hubby makes it home. But I’ll have most of the rest of the place shipshape.

Until he brings that truckload to the door.

I better take pictures.

It may be the last time the house looks this good.

Bereaved Parents Month 2020: The Missing Never Ends

I’ve learned that there are new things to miss even six years down this road of child loss.  

I’ve learned that any odd moment, random smell, taste,touch, or occasion can pierce that place in my heart that screams, “Dominic should be here!”.  

I’m also learning additional ways his absence continues to shape the family we have NOW.   Dom’s absence continues to impact decisions, expectations, hopes and dreams TODAY.

Read the rest here: Bereaved Parents Month Post: The Missing Never Ends

Changed For Life

I wrote this three years ago but it still speaks my heart.

I will not get used to the fact that my son is beyond my reach.  I have come to a certain acceptance of it as fact, and acknowledgement of the truth that I cannot change that fact.

The pain hasn’t become less painful, only more familiar.  It doesn’t surprise me as often when it pricks my heart anew.

The world goes on.

Read the rest here: True Truth

It’s The Weight of Death That Changes Us

Death will always be terrible.

Easter Weekend seems to be the only time we can we crawl out of this uncomfortable skin, call a dark and deadly Friday “Good” and skip to the joy of Resurrection Sunday.

Real life doesn’t let you do that.

Real life means you have to walk through the trauma of Friday and the uncertainty of Saturday, perhaps believing but not yet seeing the hope of Sunday.

Don’t crawl out.

Don’t confuse crucifixion’s pain with resurrection’s joy. It is the weight of death that changes us.

Fiona DeSimone, my daughter

Bury a child and suddenly the death of Christ becomes oh, so personal. The image of Mary at the foot of the cross is too hard to bear.

I trusted Jesus at an early age and I have lived my life beneath the shadow of the wings of the Almighty God.

But I never-not really-grasped the horror of the crucifixion until I watched as my own son’s body was lowered in the ground.

Death. is. awful.

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2016/03/25/10006/