I absolutely understand that when people say things like, “Just think of all the wonderful memories you have” or “He brought you so much joy” they mean well.
Because it’s true-I have beautiful memories of Dominic. And he DID bring me great joy.
But I had those things BEFORE he was beyond my reach.
Read the rest here: But I Had All That BEFORE!
Summer time has its own way of highlighting Dominic’s absence.
Warm days and extra daylight can sometimes slow things down so that every moment hangs heavy with longing.
When we gather with family for cookouts or reunions or Fourth of July in this mama’s heart there is always an empty chair even when every available seat is full.
❤
Most people realize that the “big” holidays are painful for bereaved parents-Christmas, Thanksgiving, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day-that makes sense.
But what most people don’t know is that every single red-letter day-even the obscure ones-can be hard on parents missing a child.
Read the rest here: The Empty Chair
One of the things I’ve been forced to embrace in the wake of child loss is there are very few questions, experiences or feelings that are simple anymore.
“How many children do you have?”
A common, get-to-know-you question lobbed across tables, down pews and in the check-out line at the grocery store. But for many bereaved parents, it can be a complex question that gets a different answer depending on who is asking and where we are.
Read the rest here: It’s Complicated
I was surprised at myself.
When we cleaned out Dominic’s apartment two weeks after he left us, I couldn’t throw away a thing.
Even though it meant boxing it up, carting it down the stairs and loading and unloading it onto our trailer, I DIDN’T CARE.
If it was his, if his hands had touched it, his body worn it or he had placed it in the cabinet or fridge, it was coming with me.
The only thing I left in that space was the empty echo of his fading presence.
I brought all the rest home.
Read the rest here: They’re Not Just “Things”
There are so many competing causes it’s a wonder anyone can keep up with them.
But when one or more of them become near and dear to your heart, it’s easy.
July is Bereaved Parents Month. A designation I knew nothing about until several years into my own journey as a bereaved parent.
And while I’m unsure about the necessity for declarations like National Trivia Day or National Bubble Wrap Appreciation Day I am absolutely convinced of the need for Bereaved Parents Month.
Read the rest here: Why Bereaved Parents Month?
I first shared this post in 2019-before the pandemic, before Mama joined Dominic in Heaven and before the latest, delightful addition of another grandson.
Most of what I shared then is true now-we are not the family I thought we’d be. We desperately miss Dominic and the part of ourselves that he reflected back to us.
But we celebrate when and where we can. We make much of our time together. We laugh and love and live on.
❤
I miss a lot of things since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
I miss HIM-his deep voice, his perspective and his thump-thump-thumping down the stairs and the rhythm of who he is.
And I miss how his absence has reshaped the family I thought I’d have.
Read the rest here: Child Loss: Missing The Family I Thought I’d Have
If there is anywhere on earth a lover of God who is always kept safe, I know nothing of it, for it was not shown to me. But this was shown: that in falling and rising again we are always kept in that same precious love.
~Julian of Norwich
Truth is this life is not easy.
There is joy.
Absolutely amazing awe-inspiring, breath-taking joy.
But there is also suffering.
Utterly devastating, heart-breaking suffering.
Read the rest here: On Suffering and Redemption
We are only officially a few days into summer here in Alabama but we’ve already suffered weeks of extra hot weather.
And while I can’t do a thing about the absolute temperature outside, I can make choices that help me tolerate it.
It’s the same in my grief journey.
Everyday decisions make a difference in how well I cope.
❤
I walk the half-mile stretch down and back on my driveway at least four or five times a day.
In the winter I follow the sun.
In the summer I follow the shade.
The path I choose to take either adds to or subtracts from my ability to make the trek in relative comfort.
Read the rest here: Sun & Shade: Picking My Path
Today is thirty-eight years since we said, “I do”, and had absolutely NO idea what that would look like.
I first shared this a few years ago on our anniversary because I wanted other bereaved parents to know that while it is hard (and isn’t marriage always hard?), it is not impossible for a marriage to survive child loss.
We are definitely not the perfect couple. We fuss and struggle. We sometimes retreat into our separate worlds as we process some new aspect of this earthly life without one of our children.
But we have learned that we are stronger together and that we are willing to do the work necessary to stay that way.
❤
Today my husband and I celebrate 38 years of marriage.
Our thirtieth anniversary was a mere two months after we buried our son.
Here’s the last “before” anniversary photo (2013)-unfeigned smiles, genuine joy, excitement to have made it that far:
Read the rest here: Dispelling Marriage Myths Surrounding Child Loss.
I’m participating in an online discussion group with others who are reading ATLAS OF THE HEART* by Brene Brown.
It’s a helpful exercise to map, name and explore emotions so that I can create more meaningful connections to myself and others.
I think I’ve been doing some version of this my whole life. Language matters. Being able to give any emotion-especially the deep pain and sorrow of child loss-matters.
Language is our portal to meaning-making, connection, healing, learning, and self-awareness….
Language shows us that naming an experience doesn’t give the experience more power, it gives us the power of understanding and meaning.
Brene Brown, ATLAS OF THE HEART, xxi
The morning Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, after I made the awful phone calls I reached for my journal.
I knew if I didn’t start spilling the grief onto paper my heart would explode with sorrow.
Since I learned to hold a pencil I’ve been writing.
It’s how I sort my thoughts, figure out my feelings and express my heart.
Read the rest here: Give Sorrow Words.
*Warning: ATLAS OF THE HEART contains language that may offend some folks. I just don’t want anyone to be surprised. ❤
thelifeididntchoose 