The world can make a heart panic, scrambling to pile up extra lest “the worst” befalls us and suddenly there’s not enough.
That’s what happened last year when, for some unknown reason, toilet paper became the currency of security.
But no matter how deep or full the pantry, stuff can’t keep us truly safe.
Ask me how I know.
Read the rest here: Thanks And Giving
Thanksgiving is only a little over a week away 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 past months have prevented or limited many of the ways we publicly gather and mourn so it’s easy to overlook that some families are facing their first set of holidays without a loved one.
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
If you’ve just joined this awful “club” the thought of celebrating anything may make your heart shrink and your eyes fill with tears.
I understand!
That’s precisely the way I felt for a very long time. Not because I didn’t think there were still oh, so many things and people worth celebrating, but because I couldn’t remember what joy felt like much less experience it.
My heart was filled to the brim with pain, sorrow, longing and fear-there just wasn’t room for anything else.
Still, I kept up the discipline of celebration even when I wasn’t feeling like celebrating.
Slowly, slowly, slowly, as I picked my way through memories and feelings and did the work grief required, I made space in that broken heart for other things.
And now I can testify that celebration is once again a gift!
I not only mark the big things-like birthdays and holidays-but also the little things-like making muffins with my grandson.
Any and every excuse for a photo or a cupcake!
Today is my oldest son’s birthday and his dad and I are here to celebrate it with him for the first time in I don’t honestly know how many years. I am happy to make him a yummy meal (or take him to a favorite restaurant) and buy a special treat to mark the day he said “hello” to the world.
And I’m more than happy to spend time with him and watch as he pours into his own son some of the love and life we’ve poured into him.
So if you aren’t “feeling it” try faking it or at least showing up.
Eventually there will be a moment when your heart once again embraces joy.
Then hold on with both hands! ❤
Like I’ve said before, my emotions will leak out somewhere. I can’t keep them bottled inside forever.
When I choose to be honest AT THE TIME it’s so much better.
When I let folks know that what they say, do, expect from and thrust upon me is unhelpful or overwhelming or even painful, they usually respond with gratitude.
They almost always accept my boundaries.
Those of us walking the Valley often say that those who aren’t just can’t understand. They don’t know what they don’t know.
That’s true.
But they can be educated about some of what we know.
Read the rest here: Hey Fellow Griever-Being Honest Is NOT Being Rude
I know sometimes folks get tired of me telling the story.
For them, it is a reminder of some awful event that is tucked neatly in the past.
A date on a calendar somewhere that might occasionally tickle the back of their brain and evoke a, “that’s so sad” response but not something they live with every. single. day.
But for me, Dominic’s death is an ongoing experience.
Every day I have to fit his absence into my world. I have to find a way to live around the giant void where he SHOULD be but ISN’T.
Read the rest here: I Need To Tell The Story (Even If You’ve Heard It Before)
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.
Read the rest here: Light Bearers and Candle Snuffers
I admire those families that have holiday plans pinned down for next year by the time they box up this year’s Christmas decorations.
Somehow we’ve never perfected the art of predictable patterns and unchanging life circumstances that make such a thing even possible.
So while we try to observe some of the same traditions from year to year, they tend to be expressed a little differently each time.
Of course, the year Dominic left us EVERYTHING changed.
“Changed” isn’t even really the right word. It was more like everything just stopped. Holidays were out of place in a world where all the color had faded to gray. What heart can make merry when all it feels is sorrow and despair?
Even still, the calendar beckoned and we muddled through the first Thanksgiving and Christmas as best we could.
This will be the eighth (!) holiday season since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
My children are all adults with established careers living away from home. We’ve added to the family circle through marriage and childbirth and we’ve had to say “see you later” to my mama who joined Dom with Jesus in 2019. Of course, like so many others, Covid interrupted last year’s celebration.
The past two years have been filled with travel (some planned, some unexpected) including a trip this week out to Texas to spend time with my son’s family.
So I find myself only days away from Thanksgiving without a concrete plan for when we will actually get together around the table and what, exactly, might be on it when we do.
(Please don’t ask me about Christmas yet!)
It’s more than a little uncomfortable for this gal who loves lists and planning and decorating to choose flexibility and flying by the seat of my pants. And it’s very uncomfortable to be the point of contact for various family members who are used to me having answers instead of more questions when they call to find out when they should show up and what they should bring.
But if there’s one thing I’m learning in this life after loss it’s this: Control is an illusion. All the planning in the world can’t account for random and unexpected.
I’m going to make some phone calls today to try to figure it out.
I’m pretty sure we will have plenty to eat, plenty to say and plenty of room for whoever shows up.
Hugs all around!
And pie for dessert. ❤
If you’ve followed this space for very long, you probably noticed that I don’t publish many lists.
I usually like to share my thoughts and observations generously padded by narrative. That’s because lists can sometimes sound harsh and unkind.
But when I came across this one several years ago, I found it honest, useful and to the point for folks who might not wade through folksy wisdom to find the meat of things.
So here it is one more time.
Read the rest here: Bereaved Parent’s Wish List
I am always flabbergasted by the comments and messages folks send me here and via Facebook.
So, so many kind words sail through cyberspace and lend courage to my heart.
Truthfully, I think in six years I haven’t had a whole handful of what I would deem surly, rude or mean remarks. Folks may be thinking it but apparently they think better about writing it down!
I know this year’s posts have been mostly recycled words from years past and I imagine it might be a bit confusing for some who have followed this site for awhile as it seems I jump back and forth between early days and latter, stronger days of this journey.
I’m sorry for that.
Major life adjustments (husband retiring), lots of traveling (can’t keep me away from my grandbaby!), a number of health issues (changing meds for RA plus a hospitalization) and just the whole effort of reentering society post Covid craziness have wreaked havoc on my previously predictable routine of morning writing and afternoon musing which gives way to writing.
So I want to take a minute to say, “Thank you!” to every heart who chooses to gather round this meagre campfire of hope.
I (like the rest of the bereaved) am girding my loins for the holidays which will undoubtedly include some wonderful new memories with family and friends but also highlight the longing in my heart to make new ones with Dominic.
That empty chair is always there regardless of how many bodies crowd around the table.
But after that (Lord willing!) I am going to make space to write again. I have tons of ideas in my draft folder and I want to share how grief has changed over time AND how it is still part of my everyday life.
I feel like I have more to say and as I’ve written before, will continue to post as long as I am able. So stay tuned.
I have learned so much from my fellow travelers.
One of the most important is that I need to be able to receive grace as well as give it.
Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being patient and extending grace.
I love y’all. ❤
Ninety miles an hour-that’s how fast my mind can go from here to there.
From what’s in front of me to what’s behind me.
From laughter to swallowing sobs.
We sit in a living room surrounded by toys and playing with children, talking about life and love and plans and people. The little brown face that turns his eyes to mine looks so much like Dominic I have to suck in my breath.
Read the rest here: A Peek Inside a Grieving Mother’s Thoughts
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