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
I first shared this post in 2016 when we had muddled through the first two holiday seasons after Dominic left us and were headed for a third.
Now facing our twelfth, there are some things that have changed a lot (adding grandchildren and losing my mama) and some things that remain the same (the ongoing struggle to balance everyone’s needs and expectations with the reality of sorrow).
I still find the principles I outlined years ago to be the best way to approach the season. We certainly don’t always get it right but we continue to strive to honor one another, to honor the true meaning of Christmas and to honor Dominic.
❤ Melanie
How do I honor the child for whom memories are all I have and love well the children with whom I am still making memories?
That’s a question I ask myself often.
And it is especially difficult to answer for celebrations and holidays, special events and birthdays.
I’ve probably had it a bit easier than many bereaved parents.
My children were all adults when Dominic left us for Heaven.
We have strong relationships and a track record of talking things through. So I can ask them about what is helpful to them and tell them what is hard for me. We all acknowledge that we are finding our way in the dark and that changing circumstances make it important to keep the lines of communication open.
We are experiencing our ninth set of holidays this year and have yet to establish a pattern or routine that works every time.
But here are some things we are learning together-some things my children are teaching me about surviving siblings and Christmas:
I am trying hard to love and honor and support the children still with me and also make room for Dominic, who lives in our hearts.
It’s a delicate balancing act on a spiderweb of intersecting strings-I’m still learning and it’s hard.
But love is ALWAYS worth the cost.
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.
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.
Child loss is also often sibling loss.
In addition to their own heartache, bereaved parents carry the heartache of their surviving children.
The family everyone once knew is now a family no one recognizes. Hurting hearts huddle together-or run and hide-and it is so, so hard to find a way to talk about that pain.
There is definitely a time and place for professional counseling. Many, many families benefit from having a trained individual, outside the immediate grief circle, guide them in exploring feelings, developing coping strategies and learning to live life this side of loss.
But there is also something to be said for arranging casual open-ended activities with surviving siblings, parents and even grandparents where space and a more relaxed atmosphere often leads to honest sharing.
This graphic has lots of excellent suggestions for how to craft such a space.
Not all will be suitable for every family, but every family should be able to find a few that fit.
I’ll add these guidelines that may help your family make the best choice for YOU:
These are just ideas.
Google is your friend and your phone is probably already in your hand or pocket-use it.
Find things that fit YOUR family.
The only way through is through.
You have to feel and deal to heal.
Grieving parents often face the additional challenge of trying to help their surviving children process the death of a sibling.
While there are many factors that influence how a particular child understands and works through his or her grief, age at time of bereavement plays a significant role.
Children’s grief can look very different than that of the adults around them.
And that grief may resurface later on as the child grows and matures, even long after the death of a loved one.
Read the rest here: Sibling Grief Reactions By Age Group
I think often about the things my children know that others don’t have to know.
The fact that life is precious, short and never guaranteed no matter how young or healthy you may be.
The reality that doing everything right or keeping your nose clean or staying “prayed up” doesn’t guarantee you’ll be spared from death, destruction or devastation.
It’s true that several generations ago folks grew up knowing all these things as a matter of course. But we’ve forgotten so much of this with antibiotics, life extending interventions, emergency medicine and abundant food, water and other resources.
I never interact with my earthbound kids without thinking about all the ways we are changed because death has invaded our home and our lives.
❤ Melanie
My youngest son worked hard to retrieve some precious digital photos from an old laptop.
Being very kind, he didn’t tell me that we might have lost them until he was certain he had figured out a way to get them back.
So he and I had a trip down memory lane the other evening.
It was a bumpy ride.
Because for every sweet remembrance there was an equally painful realization that Dominic would never again be lined up alongside the rest of us in family pictures.
The British have a saying, “mind the gap” used to warn rail passengers to pay attention to the space between the train door and the platform. It’s a dangerous opening that one must step over to avoid tripping, or worse.
I was reminded of that when I looked at those old pictures-my children are stair steps-averaging two years apart in age.
But now there will always be a gap between my second and fourth child-a space that threatens to undo me every time we line up for a picture.
I cannot forget that Dominic SHOULD be there. I will never, ever be OK with the fact that he is missing.
To be honest, I miss him most when the rest of us are all together. The space where he should be is highlighted because all the others are filled in.
No one else may notice, but I have to step carefully to keep from falling into a dark hole.
Mind the gap.
Be careful.
Don’t fall.
I have a heart for ALL mamas-the ones who are just starting out all the way up to the ones who launched their fledglings and have an empty nest.
I especially have a heart for mamas who have had to say “good-bye” to one or more of their precious children-sending them on ahead to heaven.
I’ve never met one that didn’t wonder if she did enough, said enough, loved enough-WAS enough.
This one’s for you.
❤ Melanie
I have a love/hate relationship with social media.
On the one hand, it allows instant communication and easy sharing of special events among friends and family in ways we could only dream about when my kids were tiny. On the other hand, the perfect pictures and carefully curated lives posted for the world to see place great pressure on those of us who look around at our messy houses and messy lives.
Add to that the articles and memes passed around and you have a perfect combination to crush a mama’s spirit.
Are my children being kept safe? Are they being kept too safe? Are they in the right school, the right sport, the right music program? Should I feed them this or that? Am I doing enough?
Am I enough?
Am I a bad mama?
Can I just tell you something struggling mama? Can I give you a lifeboat in the ocean of doubt?
God chose you before the foundation of the world to be your child’s mama. He knows everything about you-past. present and future-and He chose YOU to help shape this little life into the person He created your child to be.
Yes, you make mistakes.
Yes, you are flawed.
Yes, you will do some things well and some things not so well.
But that is no surprise to God.
Look closely at the families in the Old Testament-you don’t have to get past Genesis to find dysfunction all over the place. But God isn’t limited by our limitations. His plan isn’t thwarted by our inability to follow directions. His purposes do not depend on perfect parenting.
Hallelujah! AMEN!
So buckle up and hold on-do the best you can to guide your family down the road God lays before you. You will make some bad decisions and need to do a few U-turns.
That’s OK. Lean into the One Who made you and made your children.
God has it under control.
I’ve never been really big on fear.
I jumped from the high dive at three years old-that belly flop hurt but I survived and it fueled my adventurous spirit.
I rode horses other people didn’t like-was bucked off a time or two but no broken bones so that didn’t slow me down.
My dad had an open cockpit biplane and we flew aerobatics over Colorado Springs-fanny pack parachute strapped to my butt “just in case”-upside down and round and round. We never needed to jump and landed safely every time.
Never been afraid of speaking in public.
Never been afraid of strangers.
Never been afraid of heights.
UNTIL.
Until I had children and then I was afraid of nearly EVERYTHING for them.
I didn’t want any harm to befall these tiny humans carrying my heart outside my body. I wanted to protect them, to cushion them, to wrap them in a bubble so that nothing bad ever happened to them.
As they grew, I learned to let go- a little at a time. I learned you can’t prevent the scrapes and bruises and heartaches and disappointments of life. And I learned that a little “harm” made them stronger.
I forgot most of my fears and was again unafraid.
UNTIL Dominic was killed.
And all the old fears came rushing back. I wanted to lock my surviving children in a room and slip food under the door. I HAD to keep them safe.
Only I can’t. It is not possible for me to keep. them. safe.
All I could possibly do is make them afraid. I could make them afraid of choosing their hearts’ desires in an attempt to prevent more pain for mine.
I won’t do that.
I will not allow part of Dominic’s legacy to be that our family lives afraid.
NO.
I choose to release my children and grandchildren to make the best choices they can and to live boldly and unafraid.
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 twelfth 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 years eight 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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