Hey-I get it.
Who wants to air the good, the bad and the ugly for everyone else to see?
When I began writing here I decided to share what I was learning, what I was wondering, what I was feeling and what I was struggling with in hopes it might help another heart.
Read the rest here: Your Story-Someone Else’s Survival Guide
I was unprepared for the many traveling companions grief brought with it. I knew to expect sadness and despair–but what about anxiety and guilt?
I had no idea how large a space guilt would soon occupy in my thoughts and heart-guilt over what I did or didn’t do when Dominic was still with us, guilt over what I do or don’t do now.
I can do nothing to change what happened in years past.
Read the rest here: To My Fellow Grievers-Love Brave
I’m always cautious when I write about suicide. It’s not part of my own lived experience and I never, ever want anyone to think that I am trying to represent those for whom it is.
But I know so, so many parents whose children left this life by suicide and don’t want to shy away from the subject just because I need to be careful in addressing it.
Today is World Suicide Prevention Day.
The name, in itself, is fraught with emotion.
Who doesn’t second guess whether they missed a clue that the person they love is so desperate that suicide seems to be the only way out of their pain? I am loathe to add one iota of guilt or doubt on the heart of a grieving parent!
But I think most folks whose loved one completed suicide would join the host of experts and others who say: Pay Attention! Don’t Be Afraid To Ask Hard Questions! Take Comments About Self-Harm Seriously!
It’s absolutely, positively true that some individuals fall quickly and silently down the pit of despair. There are no tell-tale outward signs warn of their intentions.
Many, though, begin the descent in predictable and observable ways.
So today, in honor of those who are missing someone who is no longer here, take a moment to familiarize yourself with these warning signs.
Commit to reach out and to ask hard questions.
Be an encourager and a hope-speaker.
And light a candle.
For the ones who didn’t make it, for the hearts who love them and for the ones who are looking for any sign there is more to this life than pain and darkness.
I ran across this infographic awhile ago and LOVE how it puts things in an easy to see and easy to follow format.
It’s a great tool-not only for those grieving the loss of a loved one–but for anyone going through a rough patch.
Read the rest here: Bereavement: How Other People Can Help
Most of the time I’m just kind of rolling along.
There are things to do, places to go, people to see, animals to feed.
I get up, get going and get on with it.
But there are some days that are what I call “Hard Stops” on this journey. They are the days that force my heart to take special notice of the fact that Dominic isn’t here.
Read the rest here: Hard Stops: When You Can’t Ignore the Missing
I think child loss forces many of us to reflect on where (or if) we’ve set healthy boundaries in relationships.
I know it did for me.
I found that I had too long allowed what others might think of me or say about me to determine my priorities. But when I was no longer able to give, give, give I had to learn to draw a line.
It’s not only OK to have boundaries, it’s imperative if your heart is to have the space and time available to do the work grief requires.
❤ Melanie
As a people-pleasing first born who hates conflict, giving in has always been easy for me. It’s only later that I wish I hadn’t.
So for most of my life, setting personal boundaries has been challenging.
But in the aftermath of child loss, healthy boundaries are no longer optional, they are necessary for survival.
So what are healthy boundaries?
Read the rest here: Healthy Boundaries in Grief
I belong to several online closed groups for bereaved parents/ grandparents. A current topic is “How did family support you in your loss?”.
I am stunned at the number of bereaved hearts that were abandoned!
I am thankful I’m not among them.
If you stepped back instead of stepping up when a family member experienced loss there is still time.
Admit your fear, failing or whatever and offer support NOW.
There’s no expiration date on grief. 
For a long, long time I couldn’t bear to see a monthly calendar.
I didn’t want to be reminded that time refused to stand still for my broken heart and I hated there were no more “Dominic” events to scribble in on the blank squares.
Around the third year I was able to once again mark major events like birthdays, holidays and short family trips. But it was even longer before I was able to truly look forward with excitement to those things.
Seven plus years, multiple family changes, a pandemic, retirement and a grandchild have reshaped my heart so that I’m genuinely thrilled to prepare and participate in most things from family meals to “Granny Camp” (which I get to host next week!).
I’m not forgetting nor minimizing Dominic by diving into these events with gusto. In fact, I’m sure he would approve.
So I’m entering a new season of grief-one which makes room for current joys and celebrations while still holding space for Dominic.
I can be present and participate without reserve.
I am making memories with those who are still here.
Enjoying every moment. ❤
This time last year the world was just beginning to comprehend that life as we knew it might not be within reach anytime soon.
Quarantines, lockdowns, facemasks and remote learning were forcing most folks to face the fact that they were not in control.
And that’s a very, very scary reality.
This year things are different but not necessarily better.
So how DO you walk in a world when you’re not sure anything you do or don’t do makes a difference? How do you hold onto hope when the news and social media and personal experience scream, “All hope is lost!!”?
The bereaved can be trusted guides. Listen to them.
❤ Melanie
For the first time I feel there’s a wider audience longing for the secret recipe to life after loss.
I know not every heart is suffering from physical loss of a loved one but I think there are some general principles I’ve learned that can help anyone who’s struggling to find a path through this difficult season.
Read the rest here: Many Kinds Of Grief: Eight Ways To Help Your Heart In Hard Times
So I did something last week that was pretty big for me.
I went to the dentist-not once, but twice-AND I let him make some long-needed repairs to my neglected teeth.
For some folks this might seem like a silly bit of whiny sympathy seeking for the kind of every day healthcare I should be grateful for and not complain about.
But for me, it was HUGE.
I’ve never, ever liked having my mouth worked on.
I don’t remember when it started but I do know that by five or six I would rather know I was going for a vaccine booster than to the dentist for a cleaning. Of course, having pretty lousy teeth (bad genes) and multiple cavities by my teen years didn’t help.
Anyway, fast forward to adulthood and of all the uncomfortable things I could make myself face in the name of being a grown-up I was never able to get over this ridiculous fear.
Last week it could wait no longer.
Retirement means our insurance provider changes and we needed to use up the benefits we had left on the old one. So armed with economic necessity, I dragged my behind to the dentist, committed to doing what had to be done.
One thing had changed, though, in the years (yes, I know it’s supposed to be every six months!) since I’d sat in that chair. I had learned to speak up for myself. I’d learned to be forthright about how much pain I was willing to take and when enough would just have to be enough for that visit.
I’ve discovered a perverse “law” this side of child loss.
I have suffered the absolute worst heartache and sorrow I can bear. So inconvenience or tiny slights or even some pretty large challenges are manageable.
But I’m not at all willing to suffer unnecessarily either physically or relationally anymore.
If a word to the wise, if honesty, if admitting up front that I need some kind of chemical aid or extra grace to endure a procedure will make a conversation, friendship or painful prod or poke go smoothly, then I’m going to ask for it.
So I did.
And while taking the short walk from the waiting room to the exam room involved some deep breaths and positive (silent) self-talk, once things got going it wasn’t bad at all.
I walked out encouraged and with sounder teeth.
I’ve got another complex appointment in a few weeks and am asking for the same treatment plan and protocol. But this time I’m not dreading it at all.
I’m learning that sucking it up or pretending isn’t the only flavor of brave.
I can ask for help.
That’s brave too. ❤
thelifeididntchoose 