Dominic – Page 212 – thelifeididntchoose

Just Tears

No great wisdom today. No wonderful insight.

Just tears.

A day that was going pretty well ended in a conversation with someone who should have known better stomping all over my heart.

Someone who is very much aware of my loss acted like it hadn’t happened.

It really hurt.

After all this time I was surprised by how very much it hurt.

So I cried.

I cried because I miss Dominic.

I cried because a day that had felt victorious ended in defeat. I cried because it feels selfish to hold people to the standard of caring about my broken heart when they are so busy with their own lives.

I cried because it feels like even those who shouldn’t forget ARE forgetting–the son that walked beside me for almost 24 years has been set aside in less than three.

My heart hurts and I don’t think I can just suck this up. I’m not even sure that I should.

Where do I draw the line between extending grace and asking for it?

I just don’t know.

Christmas Decorating: Take Two

photo-35

Last week I wrote how my well-laid plans for setting up the Christmas tree and decorating had gone awry.

I thought I was ready to pull out the old ornaments with the old feelings and forge ahead.

I was wrong.

But yesterday, after gazing at the “lights only” tree for all these days, I decided to make another go at it.

I packed up the tear-inducing decorations and stored them safely away. I pulled out the box of ornaments I used last year-mostly new things I bought or made since Dominic left for Heaven.

Each group of ornaments was chosen because it helps me hold on to hope.

I have hearts-stuffed, handsewn hearts, papier mache hearts, corrugated cardboard hearts.

Lots of hearts.

hope-and-heart

Hearts to remind MY heart that it was Love that brought Jesus to earth. It was Love that kept Him here. It was Love that took Him to the cross even after He had begged His Father in the garden for another way. And it was Love that broke the chains of death and raised Him from the grave.

That same Love is keeping Dominic safe until we are together again.

Stars to help me remember that Jesus brought Light into darkness. They help me hold onto the FACT that His light will not be extinguished. They speak truth to my spirit that even though this Valley is dark, it will not last forever.

I made some balls from little scrappy bits of fabric wrapped and glued in place. The pieces are useless alone-not big enough to do a thing. But together they are beautiful and strong and have purpose.

My life feels like it’s been ripped to shreds. But even shreds are useful in God’s hands. I’m waiting to see what He plans to do with them.

In the meantime, I hold on.

Old Christmas cards turned decorations are strung together and hung as visual prayers. I save my cards from year to year and cut out the lovely and meaningful pictures and scriptures.

I made my own paper copies of the Names of Jesus and burned the edges.

I cling to the promises in each Name. I may reach heaven through the fire of tribulation and trial but no power on earth, above the earth or under the earth can stand against His Name.

names-of-jesus

I will be preserved.

Little drums hang as silent witness to Dominic. His heartbeat lives on in mine. His rhythm that thrummed through our lives and is missing now still matters. He is making a joyful noise in Heaven.

He is not silent.

One day I will hear him again.

So tonight I sat in the soft glow of the lights AND the ornaments remembering…

Remembering years past when life was very different-untouched by tragedy and gut-wrenching loss and also remembering the promise that this is not the way it will always be.

mourning-to-dancing

He Knows My Sorrow

There are many days when I cannot talk myself out of sorrow. Moments when I can’t distract my heart from the pain of missing Dominic.

So I don’t try.

Instead I remind myself of the fact that I serve a Suffering Savior.

I follow a Gentle Shepherd. I can trust a Compassionate Father.

I turn to God’s Word to encourage my heart.

Every part of Scripture is God-breathed and useful one way or another—showing us truth, exposing our rebellion, correcting our mistakes, training us to live God’s way. Through the Word we are put together and shaped up for the tasks God has for us.

2 Timothy 3:16-17 MSG

Jesus knows my suffering. He understands my pain.

Yet it was our suffering he carried, our pain and distress, our sick-to-the-soul-ness. We just figured that God had rejected him, that God was the reason he hurt so badly.

Isaiah 53:4 VOICE

God has promised blessing to mourners, He has promised comfort to hurting hearts.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Matthew 5:4 NIV

The LORD will heal my heart-if not here, then in Heaven.

He is the healer of the brokenhearted. He is the one who bandages their wounds.

Psalm 147:3 GW

God will comfort me so that I can comfort others.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble

2 Corinthians 1:3,4

Jesus will not abandon me in my despair. He will uphold me when my own strength is gone.

Don’t be afraid. I am with you. Don’t tremble with fear. I am your God. I will make you strong, as I protect you with my arm and give you victories.

Isaiah 41:10 CEV

My Shepherd is right here with me. He will not leave me alone.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me

Psalm 23:4 NKJV

My son is not dead. He is alive with Christ. And he will be raised in the final day.

And regarding the question, friends, that has come up about what happens to those already dead and buried, we don’t want you in the dark any longer. First off, you must not carry on over them like people who have nothing to look forward to, as if the grave were the last word. Since Jesus died and broke loose from the grave, God will most certainly bring back to life those who died in Jesus.

I Thessalonians 4:13,14 MSG

Death has been swallowed up in victory.

The trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. … So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory’

1 Corinthians 15:52,54 NKJV

Every single thing the enemy has stolen, killed or destroyed will be redeemed and restored.

God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away

Revelations 21:4 NKJV

Repost: Am I Normal?

grief not a disorder

There is so. much. pressure. on grieving parents during the holidays!

A constant tension between the world celebrating the “season of joy” and a heart that carries great sorrow.

Perhaps more than any other time of the year we may ask the question:

Am I Normal?

Dealing With Anxious Thoughts

I no longer have to imagine the worst thing that could happen in the life of a mother-I know exactly how it feels.

And if I allow my heart to ponder that too often or too long, it consumes me.

So I am learning to take those anxious thoughts captive, learning to make them live in only a small corner of my mind instead of taking it over completely.

It takes effort and discipline, but it’s possible.

I don’t have to live the rest of my days a quivering mess- afraid of every sunrise, every phone call, every mile my family travels:

I confront my fear with facts: The absolute truth is that it is no more likely I will lose a child today than it was the day I lost Dominic. I’m not good at determining odds-if I toss a coin ten times and it lands on “heads”-I’m convinced that next time it HAS to be “tails”. But that’s just not true. EVERY time the coin is tossed, it has exactly a 50/50 chance of landing on “heads” or “tails” regardless of what happened last time. That’s not how it FEELS, but that’s how it IS.

coin_toss_11

I refuse to feed my fear: I don’t linger over news stories that play up danger or magnify the possibility of catching rare diseases. Do these things happen? ABSOLUTELY! But are they likely to happen to me or someone I love, probably not. I will not fuel the fire of fear that threatens to rage through my mind.
I take reasonable precautions: My family wears seatbelts. We take our vitamins and go to the doctor when we need to. We eat right and exercise. We don’t walk across streets without looking both ways. These were all things we did before Dominic’s accident and we continue to do them now. Not one of them would have made a diference that night but they help me feel better.

crosswalk

I limit my exposure to uncertainty: If I’m concerned about someone, I call or text. It’s that simple. I don’t have to live for hours wondering if they are OK. I’m careful not to infringe on my adult children’s lives by a never-ending series of contacts, but they understand my heart. We try to be mindful of letting each other know we arrive safely to our destination.

I exercise control in other areas of my life: Anxiety is a beast that grows stronger the more out of control I feel. I cannot keep my family absolutely safe-it’s not in my power to do so. BUT, I can control some aspects of life. So I do. Even cleaning out a messy junk drawer helps bolster my sense of control. Small, easy to complete projects feed the part of my brain that says, “You can do this!”

take-control-of-your-life

I limit caffeine and other stimulants: Increased heart rate, rapid breathing and sweaty palms are signs of anxiety. Caffeine can produce these effects even when I’m not anxious. If my body is feeling this way, my mind is quick to jump on board.

angry

I practice distraction: There are times when I find myself feeling anxious despite my best efforts. When that happens, I am learning to distract myself. I find something to touch, smell, hear or taste that can help me regain composure. I count backwards from ten or twenty. I hum a song or recite a Bible verse. I add numbers in my head or do multiplication tables.
I live in the present: I have no idea what tomorrow holds. If I allow my heart to dwell on what might happen, I will be useless for today. So while I make marks on the calendar for appointments, I wake each morning determined to live right now.

now

Because, really, that’s all any of us has.

The Odd Bits That Break My Heart

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.

boys

The moment I go down the list of who-I-have-heard-from-in-the-last-24-hours and it is short a single name. I know where Dominic is.

The moment I realize that it has been three years (!) since I bought him a present, asked him for a Christmas wish list, checked in to check his schedule so I can arrange family dinners and holiday get togethers.

The moment I count plates or cups or places at the table-always one less, always one empty chair.

Yes, there are good days.

Yes, I am so very thankful for each moment I have with the ones left.

But if counting blessings is supposed to undo my heartache I must be doing it all wrong.

If focusing on the “now” is a way to ignore the “then” I need more practice.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot get over the hurdle of wanting things to be like they were.

I am not ungrateful. I cherish every single second we are together.

I hold every farewell close to my heart.

I make a mental picture of the face, the smile, the wave-because when you learn the hard way that this time might be the last time-you don’t take anything for granted.

I cling to the promise that one day we will be reunited.

But right now, it’s hard.

miss-you-every-day

Light Bearers and Candle Snuffers

One of the rituals I observe when the time changes and night closes in so very early is to light a candle each evening in the dark.

I’ve done it for years but now as I do it, I think of Dominic.

It is my small way of declaring the truth that darkness will not win.

It’s my protest against despair and hopelessness that threatens to undo me–threatens to undo ALL of us at one time or another.

Because when I sit in the circle of the glow of that single candle, I’m reminded that no matter how small the flame, darkness cannot overcome the light.

I’m reminded that I can be a light bearer or a candle snuffer.

I can help others find hope or I can douse the tiny flame that still burns in their troubled heart.

Dominic was a light bearer.

After his death, the University of Alabama newspaper, The Crimson and White ran an article that said in part:

“Dominic was always very mechanically inclined and sort of became the law school mechanic,” close friend and classmate Joe Heilman said. “We are all poor college kids, so when we had questions, we would always go to him. This year alone I think he worked on five different law students’ cars and wouldn’t let them give him any more money than what it cost to replace the part.”

Heilman said Dominic’s selflessness far surpassed that of most people.

“He was one of the most hospitable people that I had ever met,” Heilman said. “I don’t have Internet or cable at my apartment, and when he found that out, he handed me the extra key to his apartment, no questions asked, and just said, ‘Come over whenever.’”

“He was exactly the kind of friend that everyone wants to have and that everyone tries to be,” Jonathan Mayhall, another friend, said.

All my children are light bearers.

They bring light and life to everyone they meet. They encourage, help and minister to the people in their lives. They stop for strangers, buy meals for the homeless, show up when friends are moving and put people first.

I encourage you, friend, as these nights get longer and darkness seems so very present-light a candle.

Sit in the circle of its glow and think how bright that little light shines in the black around you.

And remember that we all have the power to be light bearers, no matter how dark the night.

Another Milestone

I began this blog almost a year and a half into my grief journey.

At first I wasn’t fully committed to writing on a regular basis.

I certainly never thought I’d write every day.

But this month marks a milestone: From November 1, 2015 to today I have posted at least once a day. Not every post original-some reposts of my blog or links to other blogs.

But I’ve shown up.

And it has been helpful to me, even if it hasn’t helped anyone else.

I had been journaling since the day I got the news but was too raw and too hurt to share my thoughts with anyone but God.

Goodness, I’d been journaling for almost 20 years and never expected to share any of it with anyone. It was my way of working through hard emotions, recording insights and venting things that wouldn’t be helpful for others to hear.

But here I am-letting so much of it out to the world.

Every time I press “post” I still tremble. Am I saying something helpful? Hurtful? Foolish? Wise? I never know until I get some feedback.

I appreciate everyone who has commented on or “liked” or shared a post.

It gives me courage to carry on.

My only ambition for this effort is that I remain authentic, faithful and honest about the journey through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

I want to finish well. I want to make Dominic proud.

It is my way of redeeming the pain.

Thank you for joining me in the journey.

easier-to-begin-than-finish-well

Repost: Thankful But Broken

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday.

My birthday sometimes falls on the day itself, and I have often been able to celebrate with extended family and friends-a full table of food and a full house of fellowship.

I love the colors of fall, the scents of cinnamon and pumpkin, the freedom from gift-giving pressures that lets me focus on the people in my life.

Read the rest here: Thankful But Broken

Repost: Slow Fade

Each time Dominic should be here but isn’t, I lose just a little bit more.

fading-away

“It would be easier, in a way, if it happened all at once.

If the vivid memories of his voice, his laugh, his body language, his sense of humor just disappeared-POOF!-now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t. Then I could make a single adjustment.”

Read the rest here: Slow Fade

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