I was absolutely overwhelmed in those first days.
Cars, cars, cars filled my long driveway and front yard.
People spilling out like ants scrambling after the hill is disturbed.
Oh, our hill was disturbed-knocked wide open by that deputy’s visit.
Read the rest here: Who Steps In? Who Walks Out?
The other day I had an uncomfortable exchange with someone that started with a phone call and ended with a series of texts.
I’ve learned a lot about the unhelpful things folks say to grievers and at this point I can let most remarks roll off like raindrops.
When someone says, “God needed another angel” or “I know just how you feel” (and they do not share my experience) or “at least you have other children/grandchildren” I usually smile, cut the conversation short and hang up or walk away.
So when this old family friend called and asked in a chipper voice, “How are you??!!”, I told them not well since my granddaughter just went to Heaven two days ago.
That invited several platitudes.
I endured them, hoping for a quick end to a painful conversation.
Then the spouse chimed in because they could not contain themselves and felt compelled to share a bit of friend circle news with me.
When I said, firmly but politely, I could not listen to that right now, they got upset.
I genuinely try to educate people outside the grief community when I can so I sent a text explaining that (especially!) when a loss is fresh, such conversations are incredibly painful.
The person responded by telling me I was rude and they were highly offended.
In the early days after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I would have curled up on my bed and slept away the pain such an exchange inflicted on my wounded heart.
I’m stronger now.
And I’m not just fighting for myself, I’m fighting for my newly bereaved son and his wife.
So after giving it some time and some thought, I wrote a text.
People might consider it harsh but I will not make death easy for others. It’s not easy on the families directly impacted and it’s not my responsibility to manage the feelings of folks who are not even in the grief circle.
I gave graphic details (which I will not recount here to spare my precious readers who actually lived through things like them) regarding the brief life and difficult death of my precious Holly.
I wanted to shock them into realizing the giant gap between the imagined experience of child loss and the LIVED experience of child loss.
I concluded by saying that if “rude” was the epitome of awful in their world, I was thankful they didn’t have anything to compare it to.
I am quicker to extend grace after all these years because I know many, if not most, folks are genuinely doing the best they can.
But I have boundaries.
I am not required to set myself on fire to keep others warm.
And I’m doing no one a favor by allowing someone who wields words like swords to go unchallenged.
There are still lots of times I remain quiet.
This wasn’t one of them.
Sunday morning my sweet granddaughter, Holly, was gathered into the arms of Jesus.
Her little heart just couldn’t bear the weight of this earthly life.
I know her Uncle Dominic will love her well until we join them.
In the meantime I’m left with that old familiar ache-the heaviness sitting on my chest, threatening to squeeze the air from my lungs.
I recognized it immediately even though it’s been a long time since it felt so heavy.
We grieve because we love.
Tears, wails, laments are all reasonable responses to loss.
Death is the enemy. Don’t ever let anyone try to spiritualize that truth away.
God hates death.
Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb. His tears weren’t mere sentiment. They were proof that He longed for death to die.
I hate that my son and daughter-in-law now walk the path of child loss. I hate my grandsons will grow up wondering what their baby sister might “look like now”.
It’s another invitation into the deeper grace and greater love of a God who gave His only Son because He is unwilling for sin to win.
I’m thankful that because Jesus came, lived and gave HIS life, death does not have the last word.
“Living He loved me, Dying He saved me, Buried He carried my sins far away, Rising He justified, freely, forever, One day He’s coming-O Glorious Day!“
Glorious Day by Casting Crowns
I shared most of this on my personal Facebook page yesterday,
It was written before out sweet girl was gathered in the arms of Jesus.
But honestly, whether she lived or died, the words are still true.
Love has the last word ❤️
Saturday I got to see my little granddaughter,Holly, for the first time and hold her tiny hand. It’s heartbreaking to walk through double doors and down a hallway where alcove after alcove is filled with hopeful parents keeping watch over their precious children.
Many people point to such suffering and ask, “Where is God?”. Or they assert that if there is a God, He is neither good nor loving. Often believers rush to His defense and make things worse by offering weak and illogical arguments that only add confusion and more doubt.
A lot of my time is spent with broken hearts walking broken paths and I know that for many circumstances in this life there are simply no answers. Definitely no answers that will satisfy the deep ache left by profound suffering or loss.
So I don’t offer answers. I don’t toss platitudes like confetti from the sideline as weary ones plod on in the marathon of a fiery trial.
I don’t know why babies are born so very sick or born straight into the arms of Jesus. I don’t understand why on the hall opposite the NICU there is a pediatric cancer ward. I don’t have any idea why one despicable person wreaks havoc on a school full of defenseless children and another kind soul suffers some terrible disease.
I do know that the world is not as God intended or first made it. Sin has wrought calamity from the beginning. Atrophy is the goal of this broken place.
But God…
The Story isn’t over yet. From Genesis to Revelation, Love is writing a new and better ending.
Knowing and trusting in that Truth does not make suffering less painful, it only makes it bearable.
I have no idea how Holly’s life will be woven into the eternal story God is writing but I know she matters. Her beating heart and fragile fingers were created for a purpose. Jesus loves her.
Yesterday she joined her Uncle Dominic in Heaven.
It is unbelievably hard and sad to feel afresh that familiar ache of sorrow.
But our family is choosing to live in that mysterious and supremely uncomfortable space between what we can know in this life and what we will never understand until Eternity. ❤️
It’s not uncommon for those of us who have faced the fiery trial of child loss to wonder if God is still listening, still cares and remains near.
Pain is such a giant presence, taking up all the space in our hearts, that there is barely room to imagine a good and loving God could be part of this.
I’ll be honest, when the deputy brought the news of Dominic’s death, peace did NOT descend on me like a dove. Unearthly howls filled my foyer and I dropped to my knees, begging it not to be true.
But I knew that my feelings weren’t always (or even often) the best arbiters of truth so even then I recited facts out loud to my shattered heart. God is with us. God will sustain us. God’s grace and mercy are sufficient.
And God has been with us, IS with us and sustains us.
Now our family faces another kind of awful.
I see my adult children choosing brave and compassion and steeling themselves against what might be while hoping, hoping, hoping things turn out better than predicted.
One of my favorite passages in the Old Testament is the story of Hagar and Ishmael in the desert. Abraham sent them away because Sarah was jealous for Isaac to receive all his father’s love and energy.
It’s the only time (as far as I know) a human named God.
Hagar calls the Lord, El Roi, “the God who sees me”, because He spoke to her and promised a future for her forsaken son.
I believe that while our Heavenly Father does not always intervene in miraculous ways, He always SEES us in our suffering. He does not abandon us. He does not condemn us to walk this rocky path alone.
I don’t understand or even always like what God allows. I can’t fit my life story into a neat box labeled “Blessed by God”. Many days feel like I’m being beaten and bruised, not blessed.
But I do not think I am left alone.
We just celebrated Christmas and the gift of Immanuel-God with Us. In suffering, we have to hold on to that truth.
When I am afraid, I remind my heart of the fact that the Creator of All Things chose (voluntarily chose!) to become flesh. He chose to subject Himself to the vagaries of human life. He actively entered the world of His creation for the express purpose of proving His love for us (for me!).
Jesus is love made flesh. The Babe in the manger is God’s promise that He is with us and He is for us.
So, where is God in my suffering?
He is here.
As close as my next breath.
I don’t know how you have responded to the chipper “Happy New Year” messages flooding your social media and inboxes but they generally land painfully on my fragile heart even after all these years.
It didn’t take long for me to realize after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven that so much of what we say in casual conversation is not helpful to those going through a hard time.
Even asking, “How are you?, “if you aren’t prepared for an honest answer, is an affront to an aching soul begging for someone, anyone to help bear the load.
New Year’s Eve I exchanged texts with someone who is well aware of all our family is going through only to have her send back: “Happy New Year! I hope your year is full of blessings!”.
At first I wanted to throw up. But then I literally laughed out loud in the darkness of my son’s truck because she has. no. clue.
Right after Dom left us, I was a walking nerve. Everything that anyone said or did that hit me as less than compassionate felt like a punch in the gut. It was physically painful. I didn’t want to be around anyone for very long except those in my immediate grief circle.
But over time, by the grace of God and by doing the work grief requires, I grew stronger and better able to carry this load. It wasn’t any lighter. I didn’t miss my son any less or “move on from” or “get over” his death.
I was able to gain perspective, though.
I could accept that before it was ME, I was just as ignorant as those who were saying and doing what they thought was the right thing (or maybe just the easiest thing) yet were causing pain instead of bringing hope and light.
If you are early on this journey, you may have to set strong boundaries to protect your broken heart. That’s not only OK, it’s good. Don’t expose yourself any more than necessary to those who (especially!) demonstrate repeatedly that they are not willing to learn more about how to compassionately companion the bereaved.
But be willing to expand your world a little bit as you heart begins to heal.
I don’t believe we will ever be “healed” until eternity. Yet when we invite Jehovah Rapha to do what only He can do, He will bind up our wounds.
There will be scars and tender places. We will never be able to walk in the world as those who have no enduring pain. But we CAN learn to walk in the world again.
Happy anything just isn’t something I say to folks anymore.
Instead I wish them a gentle and peace filled whatever the holiday might be.
And that’s what I wish and pray for you, my dears.
May this year be one in which the Lord’s Presence is very real and in which you feel seen, loved and held.
Some of us enter trembling through the door of a new year.
This last year wasn’t so good and our hearts are broken.
What if the next year is worse? How will we manage? Where can we hide from bad news, bad outcomes, disastrous trauma?
Truth is, we can’t.
So here we are, bravely marching in, hanging on to hope and begging God for mercy.
Read the rest here: New Year’s Prayer for Hurting Hearts
There are so many ways child loss impacts relationships!
Some of the people you think will stand beside you for the long haul either never show up or disappear right after the funeral.
Some people you never expected to hang around not only come running but choose to stay.
And every. single. relationship. gets more complicated.
When your heart is shattered, there are lots of sharp edges that end up cutting you and everyone around you. It is pretty much inevitable that one or more relationships will need mending at some point.
Read the rest here: Emotional Overload and T.M.I.
I’ve been stretched this year in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
Everyone I love has needed me-often at the same time and in disparate geographical locations.
I’ve learned the ins and outs of caregiving for a previously independent parent, navigated our complex healthcare system and traveled miles and miles in a dirt covered car because there is absolutely NO time to get it washed.
I’ve shoved grief down into an iron chest and screwed the lid on tight because I knew if I ever let it sneak out, I wouldn’t be able to get it back in.
The thing is, life goes on after child loss, with or without our permission. All the roles we filled BEFORE must still be filled. And I want to fill them.
But some days it would be lovely to have a break.
❤ Melanie
It would be helpful if the world could just stop for a day or a week (or a year!) when your heart is shattered by the news that one of the children you birthed into this world has suddenly left it.
But it doesn’t.
And immediately all the roles I have played for decades are overlaid by a new role: bereaved mother. Except instead of being definitive or even descriptive, this role is more like a foggy blanket that obscures and disorients me as I struggle to fulfill all the roles to which I’ve become accustomed.
Read the rest here: Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend
In the daylight
In the dark
In my dreams
Things creep in at the corner of my vision
Or sounds slip in unnoticed
Until my brain puts them together and screams, “Oh no!”.
Read the rest here: Swallowing Panic
thelifeididntchoose 