Category: child loss

Update: Covid, Life, Etc.

Let me just say up front I don’t believe in luck or karma or anything like that.

I believe in a Sovereign God who can (at any moment) intervene and sometimes does but who, in general, allows humans to make free will choices and lets the world run according to natural laws He set in motion at the beginning.

That said, I do have a kind of superstitious personal habit of refusing to speak aloud any hope one week, month or year might be “easy” or “good”. Because for decades our days, weeks, months and years have snowballed into a chaotic blur combining lovely moments (birth of grandchildren and a few others) with stress-filled and often life-changing events barely leaving time to catch our breath before the next one comes barreling down the pike.

So when, in late January, I declared February a “month at home” and a “month of rest” I knew better.

I’ve shared earlier that I was diagnosed with Covid Sunday, January 29th. Truly, I have not felt worse within recent memory but am so, so thankful for vaccinations (which did not prevent me from getting it but definitely impacted the severity!) and modern medicine. Both of these meant my extremely exhausted body (just came off nearly three weeks tending my two grandboys plus a week long trip to my dad’s) and immunocompromised state did not end up in the hospital or with awful complications.

My whole family ultimately succumbed to the nasty bug-including my 87 year old dad (who was the first soldier down).

What I haven’t shared is that last Thursday evening I got a call from Papa who was in his local Emergency Room, alone and fitted out for what they thought would be emergency surgery for a non-Covid related situation.

Still talking to him, I rise from my comfy post-supper chair in front of the TV and start tossing clothes in my suitcase (only partially unpacked because, well, Covid) because I’m coming!!!

Calls go out to kids, my husband agrees to stay home and tend animals and we are off within forty-five minutes of the call.

Thankfully, after careful reexamination of imaging, observation of vital signs and a surgeon willing to let Papa decide to take a risk waiting until morning while remaining hospitalized and on IV antibiotics, we avoided emergency surgery.

Fiona, Julian and I arrived Thursday night and got a few hours sleep before showing up early Friday to reassess the situation and help Papa figure out a plan going forward.

He was able to come home with us-weak, tired and on medication-with serious admonitions to take it easy for a few days.

I cannot adequately express the love, gratitude and sheer pride I have for my kids and their willingness to drop everything and come running. They’ve gained this knowledge at a terrible price. I could not have navigated this last, frightening incident without their help and wisdom.

I’m deeply grateful it turned out to be a tiny blip instead of a giant health crisis.

I’m overwhelmed by the outpouring of prayer and concern from folks near and far.

If you are so inclined, pray for a teeny, tiny break for me and my family. We are really kind of worn out.

I’m looking forward (shhhh!!!) to a quieter latter half of February.

Stay tuned for some new posts I’ve been working on and for another trip through Lent together coming soon. ❤

To My Living Children, An Open Letter

I shared this for the first time six 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.

Read the rest here: A Letter To My Living Children*

*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.

Grief Work: Thoughts Matter

So much of this battle has been fought in my mind.

Really, even more than in my heart.

Because you can’t argue with sad or shock or missing or disappointment.

But you can absolutely argue with hopelessness (there is nothing to live for), apathy (there is nothing to do) and distrust (there is no one who can help me).

Read the rest here: Thoughts Matter

Grief Work: Loss is Relentless

My family has opened our eyes to thousands of mornings knowing the one thing we would change if we could is outside our control.

When the world faced the pandemic these past years, it was a new and disturbing feeling for millions (billions?). We are still reaping the consequences of decisions taken during that time.

Eventually, though, most people’s lives will return to a semblance of normal that makes allowances for the changes.

But some of us emerged on the other side of that season carrying the new and unrelenting burden of loss.

And nothing will ever be normal again.

❤

re·lent·less

adjective

opressively constant; incessant.

Read the rest here: Relentless

Grief Work: Child Loss and Secondary Losses

While I certainly had no real idea in the first hours or even weeks what losing a child entailed, I understood plainly that it meant I would not have Dominic to see, hold or talk to.

I wouldn’t be able to hug his neck or telephone him.  

He wouldn’t be sitting at my table any more.

But the death of a child or other loved one has a ripple effect.  It impacts parts of life you might not expect.  As time went on, I was introduced to a whole list of losses commonly called “secondary losses”.

Read the rest here: Child Loss and Secondary Losses

Compassion: How To Bless a Grieving Parent Even When It’s Been YEARS

I do NOT blame you that my son and my sorrow have drifted down your list of “things that need attention”.  Your life is as busy as mine once was and your calendar full of commitments and celebrations that require your attendance.

But each year it feels lonelier and lonelier.  

Because each year fewer and fewer people remember or if they do, they don’t know how to offer that up as a blessing because it feels awkward or stiff.

So may I suggest a few things that most bereaved parents would absolutely LOVE for friends and family to say or do-especially as the months roll into years or even decades?

Read the rest here: When It’s Been YEARS-How to Bless a Grieving Parent

Grief Work: Baby Steps Count!

When Dominic ran ahead to heaven, I felt like I was physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually knocked to the floor.  I had no idea how I was going to make a life after this great blow.   I could barely get dressed, much less do anything that took more thought or energy than that.

I was overwhelmed.   I had to learn to walk all over again.

And I did it with baby steps, in a judgement free-zone I created for myself where I refused to gauge my progress against anyone else’s.

Read the rest here: Baby Steps Count

Grief Work: Marking the Milestones

When your child is born you take notes.

You plan to mark this day as a special milestone for the rest of your life.

You absolutely, positively NEVER think you will have to mark another one:  the day he or she leaves this life and leaves you behind.

But some parents have to mark both.  The dash in the middle is shorter than we anticipated, and our child’s life ends before ours.

grieving mother at grave

So how do you do it?  How in the world do you observe the polar opposite of a birthday?

Read the rest here: Child Loss: Marking the Milestone

Grief Work: What’s the Difference Between Solitude and Isolation?

Since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I find I need even more alone time than before.

That quiet place is where I do my most effective grief work, undisturbed by interruptions and distractions.

But I need to be careful that solitude doesn’t shift into isolation. 

Read the rest here: Solitude or Isolation? Which is it?

Grief Work: What About My Marriage?

For some of us life’s twists and turns include unfathomable pain, sorrow and loss. Broken hearts beating side by side in the dark often find it difficult to reach out across a chasm of grief.

Marriage is hard work under the best of circumstances. Child loss makes it harder.

But there are ways to create space for one another and to extend grace even in this Valley.

❤ Melanie

It’s no secret that men and women are different.

It’s the subject of everything from romantic comedies to hundreds of books.

“Men are from Mars, women are from Venus” and all that.

So it shouldn’t surprise those of us walking this Valley that our spouse may be grieving very differently than we do. But it often does. Because everything is amplified when it echoes off the high mountains on either side.

And just when we need it most-for ourselves and for extending to others-grace is often in short supply.

Read the rest here: Grieving Differently: Growing Apart or Growing Stronger?