National Grief Awareness Day

Today is National Grief Awareness Day in the United States.

And while I know there is a “DAY” for everything from the foolish to the monumental, I’d like to ask my non-bereaved friends to pause a moment and truly consider the impact grief has on those around them who have suffered loss.

It’s so easy to dismiss another’s experience when it isn’t your own.

But grief isn’t confined to a moment in time. It doesn’t end because there is a funeral. It changes those left behind for the rest of their lives.

During the course of my lifetime I have seen many topics dragged from behind closed doors out onto the stage and under the public spotlight.

Frankly, some of them could have remained in darkness as far as I’m concerned.

But there is something still taboo in polite conversation–something hushed with awkward silence should it ever be spoken aloud in a crowded room–mention GRIEF and eyes drop to the floor or someone hastily throws an arm around you and says, “There, there–it’s going to be alright.”

I don’t blame them.

In my growing up years I don’t remember anyone speaking about death and grief for longer than the time it took to go to a funeral home visitation and stand by the grave as the casket was lowered in the ground.  

People were designated by their loss:  He was a widower; she lost a child; her mother died when she was young.

But what came AFTER the loss–not a word.

We need to talk about it.  We need to educate ourselves about it.  Because, like my EMT son says, “No one gets out of here alive.”

You WILL experience grief in your lifetime.

I pray that the people you lose are full of years and ready to go–that you get to say “good-bye” and that all the important things have been said and done so that you aren’t left with extra emotional baggage in addition to the sorrow and missing.

But you never know.  Neither you nor I are in control.

And even in the one place where it would seem most natural to talk about life and death and grief and pain–our families and faith communities–it still makes those who are not experiencing it uncomfortable.

Yes, there are grief support groups.  And, yes, they are helpful in ways that only a group made up of people who understand by experience what you are going through can be.

But much of life is spent rubbing elbows with folks unlike ourselves, with parents who know the fear of losing a child but not the awful reality.  And just a little bit of openness, a little bit of education and a little bit of understanding would make such a difference.

If you are a grieving parent, I hope this day and this post will serve as a launchpad for you to have conversations with your own friends and extended family.

If you aren’t a bereaved parent, please commit just the few minutes it takes and consider how you might support someone in your circle of influence who has lost a child.

We don’t want pity.

We aren’t looking for special accommodations that single us out and mark us as “needy”.  

But we long for understanding and compassion and the opportunity to tell our stories.

What Bereaved Parents Need From Extended Family

I get it-you have no clue what it’s like to say good-bye to a life you’ve birthed and fully expected to outlast your own.

I don’t even imagine you can understand because I’m living it and still trying to figure it out.

But there are some things you can do to help me walk this awful and unfathomably painful path.

Please, please, please know that my child is STILL my child. He is still counted in our family’s number. She remains one of the nieces and one of the grandchildren when we diagram our family tree.

So when you talk to others or tally numbers don’t exclude them.

My last earthly child is not an “only child”. Our mother doesn’t just have “one grandson”.

I need you to say his name! I long for you to share a beloved memory without choking out the details like it’s a chore instead of a privilege.

Can we make space for tears and joy in our family celebrations?

Could you message me privately before announcing the joyous news YOUR earthbound child is getting married or having a child so I can prepare my heart for the onslaught of “congratulations” posted across social media?

It’s not that I envy (well, maybe a little) your life.

It’s just that you can’t fathom mine.

I didn’t just lose my child once at a single point in time. I lose him again every time there is a milestone or celebration or moment when he SHOULD be there but isn’t.

I’m not asking you to walk on eggshells. That’s unfair and unfruitful.

I AM asking you to learn a new way of speaking about my child in Heaven.

He still exists.

He still matters.

He’s still very much a part of our family AND yours.

Fighting For Joy

I’ve had some struggles this past week.

Family is messy.

There’s tension between who I am as an individual and who I am as part of the unit.

I want, above all, to be light, love and life to the people I love and even beyond-to the people I interact with online and in person in more casual spaces.

But it’s hard.

I’ve been reminded that the only way I can remain grounded in this world is to help my heart remember that this world is not all there is.

Heaven is my true home.

And when my flesh is exhausted, frustrated and overwhelmed with sadness I speak truth to my heart until it is ready to hear it.

❤ Melanie

I found that when I received the news of my son’s accident-it was Scripture I had hidden in my heart that helped me stand.

My Bible was available, but I could not open it. My heart was too broken to read.

But the Spirit brought to mind exactly what I needed from the storehouse of Scripture hidden in my heart.

I am still fighting for joy.  

Read the rest here: The Fight For Joy is Not for the Unarmed

So, What Exactly IS Forgiveness?

Recently someone asked me for my definition of forgiveness.

It caught me off guard.

She had been sharing details of a very painful situation with someone who is clearly intent on making her life difficult “just because”.

I had to think about it.

After a few seconds I told her that at its most basic level, I thought forgiveness was completely releasing another from the debt of making things right, making amends or changing in their intentions or behavior toward me.

And then I realized it was precisely what I thought even though I’d never framed it exactly like that before.

I’ve sat with my words for a several days now and I have a few more thoughts.

My definition may lack precision in terms of theology but it is absolutely congruent with lived experience.

It bridges the gap I (and many others) feel between what feels like real forgiveness (releasing the debt) and also still not trusting a particular individual enough to allow them in my life.


I can’t imagine a single soul walking in this world for very long without having at least someone wound them deeply. And it’s no good just trying to ignore the pain or paper it over or distract yourself from it. I eventually find it gnaws a hole in my heart.

When that happens, it’s necessary (for my own mental, emotional and spiritual health) to face it and deal with it.

That’s when the choice to forgive can release the energy that will otherwise be expressed in bitterness or anger or sarcasm or avoidance or unfulfilling and often harmful choices.

If I forgive-release another from the debt of making things right or making amends or changing in their intentions or behavior toward me-then I am no longer held hostage to what they do or don’t do, say or don’t say.

It is real and freeing.

Doing that, I can more accurately evaluate whether the individual is a safe one whom I can allow back into my life:

  • Is their behavior consistent?
  • Are their intentions good and loving or hurtful and mean?
  • Can I trust them?

You do not have to allow them back in if they are not worthy of that privilege.

So, so many bereaved parents have been wounded in so, so many ways.

Sometimes by those they love. Sometimes by strangers who contributed to the death of their child. Sometimes by others who have made it difficult or impossible to do the work grief requires.


Those that inflict the wounds may be repentant or they may not.


That’s outside our control.

But we all have the opportunity to make the choice to release the debt and free ourselves of the ongoing burden of caring whether they are sorry or not.

And that is work well done.



Grieving Siblings: Remembering the Ones Left Behind

I realized the morning I received the news that an important part of my work as a grieving parent was going to be protecting and advocating for my living children.

It’s just so easy to fall into a habit of reciting only the good attributes of the child that has run ahead to heaven and to forget the ornery moments.

But sibling rivalry doesn’t die just because a sibling does.

It’s so, so important to remember that these living children need an engaged mama.  They need to know that they are loved, cherished and treasured.

I am always afraid that Dominic will be forgotten.  

I’m afraid that as time passes, things change and lives move forward, his place in hearts will be squeezed smaller and smaller until only a speck remains.

Not in my heart, of course.

Or in the hearts of those closest to him, but in general-he will become less relevant.

But he is not the only one who can be forgotten.  I am just as fearful that my living children will be forgotten.

Read the rest here:  The Forgotten Ones: Grieving Siblings

Eleven Practical (mostly easy) Ways To Help a Grieving Friend

It’s possible to stand frozen at the corner of good intentions and helpful action.

I’ve done it dozens of times.

And every time I’ve allowed myself to swallow “but I don’t know what to do” and done nothing I’ve regretted it.

Every. Single. Time.

So I’m here to tell you that when you get that urge, feel that itch, hear that still, small voice that says, “DO something“, then do it.

You may already have a good idea of what it is you need to do, but in case you don’t know exactly how to make a difference in the life of a heart hanging on by a thread, here are some things to get you started:

Read the rest here: Should I DO Something? Yes. Absolutely.

Here’s Something to Hold On To When You Feel Like Letting Go

I have to talk to myself all the time.

Literally.

There are some mornings I open my eyes and would do just about anything to be able to stay in bed, hide under the covers and wish the day away.

But I can’t.

So I recite truth until my heart can hear it.  I speak courage to my own spirit.

If you are feeling weak and weary today, may I share a few of my favorites?

Read the rest here: Something to Hold On To When You Feel Like Letting Go

Making Space for Silence

It’s hard to sit silent in an age when most of us live with noise nearly 24/7.

Out where I live, surrounded by grass and trees and plenty of room between me and my nearest neighbor, I am used to the quiet.

But it makes many folks uncomfortable.

They hasten to fill any empty airspace with chatter or nervous laughter or music or television or just about anything that means they don’t have to listen to their own thoughts.

It can be tempting, when trying to do the work grief requires to chase away the sorrow and pain with noise.

But that’s unhelpful.

Because you can’t really chase grief anywhere.  It’s inside you, part of you, with you wherever you go.

Read the rest here: Silence is a Gift

It’s a High Price to Pay for Wisdom…

I have learned a lot in these ten years since Dominic ran ahead ahead to heaven.

But what a price to pay for wisdom!

It’s certainly not one I’d have agreed to up front.

Yet, here I am, older and oh, so much wiser, than I would have been if I had not buried a child...

I will shout from the rooftops, from the hillsides, from any bit of altitude I can gain that the most important thing in life is love.

Nothing else really matters.

Everything else can be bought and sold.

But love cannot be traded for money-it is priceless, eternal and immortal.

Our bodies don’t last forever, but love does.  

Our hopes may be dashed, but love lives.

Our breath may be exhausted, but love never runs out.

Read the rest here: A High Price to Pay

It Slipped Up On Me: More Than Four Million Visits!

I have to be honest.

When I began writing in this space I thought I might reach family and friends I knew face-to-face (IRL for those of you familiar with social media speak).

I NEVER dreamt I’d reach people in other countries, on every continent, from such varied backgrounds.

But I shouldn’t be surprised.

A fuzzy photo of a map of every country in which at least one person logged onto thelifeididntchoose. From the tip of the world to the bottom, east to west, there are bereaved parents everywhere.


Child loss is (sadly) universal.


It doesn’t respect borders or socio-economic boundaries or age or race. It happens everywhere, every day to so, so many people.

What I’ve always tried to do is be honest and vulnerable.

I’ve exposed my heart and my helplessness. I promised myself and my readers I would not hide a thing.

And I haven’t.



I don’t keep close tabs on things like blog statistics because I don’t monetize it. So it crept up on me one day when I happened to glance at the little footnote on the sidebar there were over 4,000,000 folks who had visited the site.

I’m thankful for every one of you.

I’m thankful for the grief groups that choose to print the posts or share them electronically. I’m thankful for the comments and encouragement from other bereaved parents that fuel my continued resolve to show up and share how grief changes over time (and how it doesn’t).

I’m thankful for the friendships that have been forged over distance and time and the encouragement that flies back and forth in the comments.

I’m still learning so I plan to keep on sharing.

I hope you plan to join me.