Bereaved parents often have several tasks before them in the days and months and years following the death of a child.
One of them is to help their surviving children navigate loss.
I have three earthbound children. And they are grieving.
Their world changed in the same instant mine did. Their hearts are broken too.
Read the rest here: Helping My Children Walk Through Grief
It may seem like the easiest way to get an inside scoop on how I’m REALLY doing-but don’t do it.
Please don’t ask my kids how I’m doing.
Respect the fact that they have their own grief burden. Respect family privacy and understand you are putting them in an impossible position.
If you want to know-to REALLY know-how I’m doing, ask me.
Read the rest here: Please Don’t Ask My Kids How I Am Doing
This picture was taken for a story in UAB Magazine featuring my husband and oldest son who graduated together in December 2009. You can read the original article here: Like Father, Like Son
It is one of my very favorites. I was surrounded by my family, filled with pride and promise.
This is how I like to think of us-together and strong.
Our circle is broken now-it is a continuing struggle to figure out how to navigate life in the wake of our loss.
And some of the greatest challenges present themselves in unexpected ways.
Read the rest here: [Context]
I remember as a young mother of four working hard to keep my kids safe.
Next to fed and dry (two still in diapers!) that was each day’s goal: No one got hurt.
It never occurred to me THEN to add: No one got killed.
Read the rest here: What is Safe?
If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them.
I grieve because I love.
My tears are a gift to the son I miss. My sorrow honors his memory. My broken heart gives evidence to the ones walking with me that my love is fierce and timeless.
Read the rest here: Love: The Reason I Grieve
I shared this for the first time four years ago.
Before my mother’s illness and death, before the frighteningly early arrival of our little Captain, before an overseas deployment, a destructive hurricane, Covid19, 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.
Each year that passes brings new challenges. I’m never prepared for the period I call my “season of sorrow” regardless of how many times I’ve lived through it and survived.
We cleaned out our garage the other day and found traces of Dominic in so many random places. Each little thing had to be evaluated and put either in the “keep” pile or in the “toss” pile.
What hurt my mama heart almost more than the bits of Dom we found were the bits of my earthbound children tucked in long-forgotten corners. Because I found myself thinking, “What if something happens to THEM? What if I regret tossing that out?”
Things a nonbereaved parent never has to consider.
Yet something I ask myself every time I clean out a drawer or closet or even a random pile of old school papers. ❤
It’s absolutely normal that the space Dominic once occupied in the hearts and minds of his peers gets smaller over time.
He was only a part of their lives-lives blooming and bursting in the spring of their years.
They are moving and marrying and having children and building careers. If he were still living it may very well be they would have lost touch by now anyway.
I know all this and yet it still hurts.
Read the rest here: Disappearing in the Distance
There are all kinds of ways child loss plays with your head.
One of the most common and often repeated questions among bereaved parents (especially those who have lost their only child , all their children or a child before or at birth) is this: Am I still a mama (or daddy)?
Short answer: YES. Absolutely!
The fact that your child has taken up residence in Heaven and is no longer here to hold and love and parent on earth changes NOTHING about your status.
Being an almost mother isn’t a thing. Brittany C. Cherry
Read the rest here: You Will ALWAYS Be A Mama (or Daddy)!
Bereaved parents hear lots of things from folks who truly do wish to bring comfort but often miss the mark by a mile.
One of them goes something like this, “Well, at least you have your other children (and/or grandchildren) and they need you!”
Now, if they gave it a bit of thought, they would know right away that’s at best an uninformed remark and at worst, a very painful one.
Read the rest here: No Substitute for My Missing Child
One of the hard lessons I’ve learned in child loss is that while gratitude is important, and helps my heart hold on, it does not undo grief.
I truly look for and rejoice in every good thing, every tender moment, every smile, hug and bit of laughter shared with those I love.
But I can never stop looking for Dominic’s face around the table or longing to hear HIS voice in the chorus of chatter from the other room. ❤
Oh, how I wish it were different!
The odd bits that break my heart-
The moment my three living children are in the family room, joking and laughing-but his voice is so obviously missing.
The moment I say to one son, “Have you texted your brother?” and don’t have to give a name, because there is only one brother left to text.
Read the rest here: The Odd Bits That Break My Heart