Category: grief waves

Worldwide Candle Lighting Service 2025

 I love candles-always have.

I especially love them as the days get shorter and we creep toward the longest night of the year.

I love them more since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

Every time I light a candle, I remind my heart that even the smallest light can chase the darkness.

When hundreds, thousands and even millions of candles are lighted together, it does more than chases darkness, it undoes it.

Sunday, December 14, 2025 is the Worldwide Candle Lighting Memorial Service (WCL) sponsored by The Compassionate Friends (TCF)

Millions of parents and others will light a candle at 7:00 PM local time for one hour to honor sons, daughters, brothers, sisters and grandchildren gone too soon.

As the earth turns, a wave of light will sweep across the globe one time zone after another.

It’s natural for parents, grandparents, sisters and brothers to mark the light and life of one they miss.

It’s less natural for friends and extended family members to do so.

One of the greatest fears of every bereaved parent is that his or her child will cease to be remembered or that the light and life of a son or daughter will simply fade as time goes on.

Year-end holidays accentuate the place where our children should be but aren’t. Merry making and picture taking emphasize the gap between grieving hearts and those untouched by death of a close loved one.

That’s why TCF has chosen THIS week for the annual WCL.

If you want a simple way to bless someone you know who lost a child, grandchild or sibling, a single candle and a quick picture or post on social media will do it.

My heart is always encouraged and strengthened when others take time to remember Dominic.

Buy a candle.

Set an alarm on your phone.

Light up the night with us.

Together we will remember. Together we will chase the darkness. Together we will declare that our children are out of reach but not forgotten.

Never, ever forgotten. ❤

Christmas 2025: Why I Still Put Up a Christmas Tree

This will be the twelfth Christmas without Dominic. Every year has been different and every year has been challenging.

This year, I’ve been away from home for three months caring for my father who suffered a stroke in September. We are expecting a third grandblessing very soon but she will undoubtedly be born premature. There’s only so much Mama D to go around and, in spite of my wide hips, I’m spread thin.

So this year I didn’t bring anything down from the attic when I had a couple days at home in Alabama. Instead, I ran to Dollar General and bought a cheap little tree, piled on the lights and put it on top of a table in the living room.

At my dad’s house I have a tiny tree in my bedroom.

I don’t know how much time I’ll have to enjoy either one but even just putting them up reminds me that darkness doesn’t win.

❤ Melanie

It’s a question every hurting heart has to answer if you celebrate a traditional western Christmas:  Will I put up a tree this year?

I had a few months of lonely travel through the Valley of the Shadow of Death before I had to answer that one.

Dominic left us at Easter, so by December I had learned that wishing didn’t make anything better nor did it make decisions disappear.

As Christmas drew near, I just could not bring down the usual decorations from the attic.

So I didn’t.

Instead of trying to work up the courage to dig through boxes and decide what I could or could not bear to see that first year, I bought a new, small tree and put it atop the table in the living room.

How do you arrange pieces of happy memories in a world where everything has changed? How do you touch bits of who you used to be when you have no idea who you are right now?

I decided that even if I didn’t put one other decoration on it, I would have the company of sparkling lights in the darkness of winter evenings.

The lights remind me that the night has limits.

Their tiny twinkling helps me remember that even a small bit of hope is enough to hold on to.

merry-christmas-tree

This is the twelfth Christmas since Dominic ran ahead to heaven and it is just as hard as the first one. 

Each year there are additional challenges and additional heartaches on top of the giant one I carry every day.  I’ve found that these years since he left I don’t do well with a lot of the trappings surrounding Christmas.

But what my heart holds onto is the promise of Christmas:

That the Baby became the Man and the Man was Messiah.

I light the lights because they remind me that darkness has limits.

I declare by my defiant act of celebration in the midst of heartache that one day every hard thing, every sad thing and every broken thing will be redeemed and restored.

My prayer for all the hurting hearts this year is that God will make His love real to you in ways you neither expect nor could imagine.

May you find some symbol this season that speaks courage and gives you strength to endure. 

And may the promise of Christmas give you hope, even in the darkest night.  

jesus-christmas

Supporting Grieving Parents During the Holidays

Most parents feel a little stressed during the holidays.

For bereaved parents, the rush toward the “Season of Joy” is doubly frightening.

Constant reminders that this is the “most wonderful time of the year” make our broken hearts just that much more out of place. Who cares what you get for Christmas when the one thing your heart desires–your child, alive and whole–is unavailable…

It is so hard to find a way to trudge through the tinsel when what you really want to do is climb into bed and wake up when it’s all over.

Here are some practical ways family and friends can help grieving parents during the holidays:

  1. Don’t resist or criticize arrangements a bereaved parent makes to help him or her get through this season.If they are brave enough to broach the subject, receive their suggestions with grace and encourage them with love.  Do your best to accommodate the request.
  2. If the bereaved parent doesn’t approach you–consider thoughtfully, gracefully approaching him or her about what might make the holidays more bearable.But don’t expect a well-laid plan-I didn’t get a “how-to” book when I buried my child…this is new to me and very, very painful.  I am doing the best I can to keep my head above the waves and I cannot be expected to captain the boat through these turbulant waters.
  3. Don’t be surprised if a bereaved parent doesn’t want to exchange gifts (or at least, not receive gifts). No one can rewind time or restore my family circle to wholeness and I just can’t think of anything else that I want or need.
  4. Don’t assume that the bereaved parent should be relieved of all meal duties around the holiday.For some of us, doing the routine things like baking and cooking are healing.  For others, there just isn’t energy for anything other than the most fundamental daily tasks. ASK if they want to contribute.
  5. Don’t corner surviving children for a private update on their parent’s state of mind.My children are grieving too.  When you expect them to give an update on me you diminish their pain and put them in a difficult position.  If you want to know, ask me.
  6. If there are young children in the family, it might be helpful to offer to take them to some of the parties/gatherings/church services that their parent may not be up to attending. Ask, but don’t be upset if they say “no”–it might still be too traumatic for either the child or the parent to be separated from one another.
  7. Ask them to share about the one they miss.  One of my greatest fears as a grieving parent is that my child will be forgotten.  But we might not speak up because we don’t want to make others feel uncomfortable.

I know that life goes on, the calendar pages keep turning and I can’t stop time in its tracks.  I greet each day with as much faith and courage as I can muster. This season requires a little more-and I will need help to make it through.

Finding Joy Amidst Grief: Holiday Strategies

Fellow brave and bereaved, I don’t know how you feel coming off this late-in-the-month Thanksgiving headed straight for Christmas but I’m kind of tired.

Yesterday I shared about post-holiday blues but this is something different.

I love, love, love any time I get with my family and I want to be clear that THEY do not place demands on me I find burdensome.

But…I am no better prepared to trudge through all the holly-jolly THIS year than I was the second year after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. (I don’t even count the first year when shock overwhelmed my heart.)

This far along in my grief journey many folks I rub shoulders with are either unaware that child loss is part of my story or they’ve tucked that “incident” away in some rarely accessed section of their memory. And while I do not tote my loss around like a token demanding special attention, it absolutely continues to inform how I experience every day and especially how I experience holidays.

So I wanted to share a few thoughts about THIS year-the eleventh Christmas I will celebrate since Dom left us.

  • It’s still hard. It still takes 110% effort to show up, engage, maintain enthusiasm, DO all the things (or even my abbreviated list of things), not let my emotions overrun my desire to be polite and find time to sit silent in the circle of sacred sorrow that helps my heart hold on to hope.
  • I have to constantly revisit my own advice (which I will repost in the coming days) about giving myself permission to bow out of whatever I simply can not face.
  • Communication is key. It sometimes surprises me (but shouldn’t!) that other people can’t read my mind and most forget what I told them last year or the year before. Add to that things change from year-to-year and there’s no way around the need for at least a casual conversation about what THIS year is going to look like.
  • Grace greases the wheels of relationships. Grace for myself. Grace for family and friends. Grace for strangers-including the clerk at the grocery store-who are probably doing the best they can too.
  • Increased social interaction-whether a function of more planned activities or just the crowds of shoppers-means it’s harder for me to escape the pressure of social anxiety that has developed post loss. I try to choose carefully what I add to my calendar, graciously send regrets for the rest and then refuse to feel guilty about it.
  • I am more careful about hydrating and not over indulging in any foods that tend to send my body into overdrive. It’s less about the calories (although I need to be mindful of those!) than it is about the wild swings poor nutrition produces in my sense of physical well-being.
  • I must plan rest stops along the way. I can’t overschedule, overstimulate and overwork myself and still maintain a semblance of control over my emotional response to the grief waves and grief ambushes this season is sure to provide. I try to set aside at least a few minutes EVERY DAY and (if possible) one day PER WEEK that promises quiet solitude and the opportunity to unwind and unspool built up tension and anxiety.
  • I purpose to find joyful moments and beautiful memories when gathered with others and when doing all the things holidays require. I hold them close and cherish them.

Most importantly, I remind my heart that this season is only a season.

It doesn’t last forever.

I will survive this like I’ve survived every day since Dominic left us-one moment, one breath at a time.

Coping With Post-Holiday Grief

I always like to share this post after a holiday because I never want any hurting heart to think the pain they feel “the day after” is not a normal part of the grief journey.

It is absolutely, positively NORMAL to feel more anxious, more sad, more lonely, more despair once the plates are cleared away and everyone else has returned to their respective homes.

Grief is funny that way-sometimes the very busyness and noisy conversation we dread so much BEFORE a big day turns out to be a good distraction from the quiet desperation and longing that would otherwise demand attention.

And then…in the quiet, in the stillness it all comes crashing down.

It’s a paradox really-that grieving hearts can be more anxious and more sorrowful BEFORE and AFTER a milestone day, birthday or holiday than on the day itself.

That’s not true for everyone, but it’s a frequent comment in our closed bereaved parent groups.

Read the rest here: Post Holiday Blues: When The Grief Comes Crashing Down

Embracing Sorrow: A Thanksgiving Reflection

If you woke this morning feeling more broken than blessed, I see you.

If you could care less about the bounty on the table and can only feel the barrenness in your heart, I know how you feel.

Today doesn’t have to be any special way, my friend. Give yourself grace. Give yourself permission to feel what you feel and do what you do and not do what you can’t do.

❤ Melanie

THANKSGIVING PRAYER FOR HURTING HEARTS

Father God,

We live in a world that isn’t always (or even often) what we hope for, pray for and long for.

But here we are.

Two hands open and waiting for the blessing You have promised in our brokenness.

I am oh, so thankful for the many ways You have blessed me, continue to bless me and uphold me with Your righteous right arm. I know, know, know that if You were not walking with me in this Valley, I would have given up and given in long ago.

I am not ungrateful. I am blessed.

But I am also broken.

My heart longs desperately for what it cannot have. I am forced to walk forward but I want to turn back time. I’m grateful for every face around my table but always thinking about the one that will never sit there again.

I miss those I love who have run ahead to joyous celebration in Heaven. I long for just a taste of divine joy as I wait my turn to join them.

Thanksgiving big and loud just isn’t in my playlist anymore. Quiet gratitude that makes space for sorrowful reflection is more my style.

Make me truly thankful for the promise that no matter how often circumstances change or how dreadful those changes may be, You are the same-yesterday, today and forever!

Your steadfast love holds us fast. I rest in that truth.

Help me hold onto hope. Help me hold onto every good and perfect gift You still give me as I wait. Grease the wheels of every relationship with grace.

Greet me this morning with new mercies and fresh strength.

Give me the strength to endure, the grace to participate, the breath to speak love and the confidence that you see every tear I shed when no one is looking.

Amen

Remembering Loved Ones During Thanksgiving

As families gather around tables and in backyards to celebrate fall birthdays, Thanksgiving and (soon!) Christmas, my heart longs even harder to hear Dominic’s name.  

Of course I remember him-he’s my son-and of course others do too. 

But it is especially helpful this time of year to have friends and family speak of him aloud. 

Read the rest here: Let Me Know You Remember

Supporting Grieving Hearts This Thanksgiving


Thanksgiving is Thursday and I know many are making final plans and preparations to gather family and friends around the table.

In the rush toward celebration, please don’t forget those in your circle who have suffered loss.

The first Thanksgiving without your child is excruciating.

Even the second or third Thanksgiving with an empty chair is unbelievably hard.

Here are some helpful ideas to get you started. 

❤ Melanie

We are all on a journey through life and each carry some sort of load.  Mine is child loss.  Yours may be something else.

We can help one another if we try.  

Love and grace grease the wheels and make the load lighter.  

Here are ten ways to love a mourning heart at Thanksgiving:

Read the rest here: Ten Ways to Love a Mourning Heart at Thanksgiving

Embracing Lament: Finding Strength In Our Pain

When I first began writing in this space, “lament” had only just come into vogue.

Now, it’s everywhere.

If the past few years have taught hearts a single thing, I hope it is there’s no use pretending life doesn’t hurt sometimes. We were not created to carry that kind of pain alone.

And thankfully, we don’t have to.

God, in Christ, invites me to speak it, to sing it, to release it as an exhale so His grace and strength can rush in to fill that empty space.

You’re invited too.

❤ Melanie

Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday.

I loved everything about it,

Read the rest here: The Power of Lament to Make Room for Thanksgiving

Celebrating Life and Loss: Insights on Birthdays

Tomorrow I will be sixty-two years old.

When I celebrated my fiftieth, I had so many dreams and plans! I couldn’t have imagined that the next ten years would be filled with the heartache of child loss, along with all the hope and joy of an expanding family.

But here I am.

Definitely older and, I would like to think, a little wiser.

Wiser to the truth that no one escapes pain in this life. Wiser to the fact that joy and sorrow can coexist. Wise enough to know by experience that sometimes the very best thing you can do is shut your mouth and open your arms to a hurting heart. Wise enough to realize that birthdays for bereaved parents are often complicated.

I wrote this post several years ago but share it annually because unless you’ve sent a child ahead to Heaven, you might not realize how very tricky birthdays can be for the parents left behind.

❤  Melanie

Tomorrow is my birthday.

And while I am truly grateful for another trip around the sun, since Dominic left us it’s not a simple celebration of life lived and the hope of years to come.

The last birthday I had with an unbroken family circle was a lovely surprise party for my fiftieth held in Dom’s apartment.

Eleven years later and it seems a lifetime ago.

Read the rest here: Birthdays Are…Complicated