Category: heart

A Decade of Christmases…Sigh.

So many people think grief grows smaller over time. 

But that’s not it at all. 

Grief remains precisely the same size, occupies exactly the same space in my heart. 

Instead, life grows around the grief so that the proportion of my attention and my emotions and my daily routine relative to grief changes. 

I’m thankful for that! 

I couldn’t have borne the initial heaviness for a decade. I couldn’t have (and didn’t want to!) feel that awful, piercing pain every minute of every day for ten years. 

So how is Christmas different NOW from THEN? 

How do I celebrate, how do I mark Dominic’s absence, how do I carry the weight of missing along with the joy of living?

I have some small rituals that help my heart hold onto hope. 

  • I light candles and I sit silent watching the flame. I build fires in my fireplace and allow darkness to fall while I celebrate the brightness that keeps it at bay. These remind me darkness cannot conquer the light. 
  • I place ornaments on my tree that hold space for Dominic and for my missing of him. Little drums shimmer in the glow of Christmas bulbs. Even if no one else notices, I do and it makes me smile. 
  • I decorate his resting place. I’ll be honest, I don’t feel close to him there. The grave isn’t where HE is. I actually feel closer to him in the home which was the hub of family activity for decades. BUT, my decoration reminds others who visit that here lies someone who is loved and missed. 
  • I celebrate my living family. I want each of them to know that love lives forever. Yes, I miss Dominic, but I cherish each moment I have with them. Sometimes it costs me greatly to put on the smile and bake the cookies, but I’m still making memories and I want them to be sweet.
  • I set aside time each day (hopefully!) to give my heart a break. My habit is to wake before the sun so I have time to myself. In the silent darkness (candles or fire burning) I allow my heart to explore the edges I can’t afford to attend to in the busyness of daylight. I cry or journal or listen to music. 
  • I have practical habits too. I write everything down. I don’t depend on my still deficient grief brain to remember details like what I’ve already wrapped. Calendars are my friend. 
  • I try to remember that grace is boundless. I cannot exhaust the riches of the love and grace of Jesus. If I do less-than-my-best, grace abounds. If family or friends disappoint me, grace fills the gaps. 

I have shared here since 2015-just eighteen months after Dom left us. My ongoing prayer is that sharing helps other hearts hold on to hope. 

It’s a lifetime of missing, a lifetime of adjusting to the reality that one (or more) of the children we birthed is not here to share the present.

But that doesn’t mean life isn’t full and full of love, life and laughter. 

My wish for you this season is not “Merry Christmas” but is, instead “Hopeful Christmas”. 

May you see the love, light and life of Jesus in every sparkling bulb and flickering candle. 

I love you. <3

Christmas 2023: My Empty Heart Can be Filled

I don’t know about you but I’ve never thought of hopelessness as something I wanted on my resume.

Hopelessness is typically tossed into the pile of “negative” feelings we all acknowledge but don’t want to experience and if we do, we try to minimize, rationalize or disguise them.

If I admit to it at all, I tend to look downward, whisper quickly and pray that no one takes much notice because it feels shameful.

But maybe hopelessness is the first step to truly celebrating Christmas.

Read the rest here: Qualified by Hopelessness: An Empty Heart Can Be Filled

Christmas 2023: How To Survive December With a Broken Heart

It comes up again and again-and not just for the parents facing their year of “firsts”:  How do I survive December with a broken heart?

There’s no single answer or list of things to do that will suit every family.

But there are some general principles that can make even this awful reality a little easier…

Read the rest here: How To Survive December With a Broken Heart

A Beautiful Moment When the Light Gets Through…

A few years ago, I had a grace-filled, heartwarming visit with another bereaved mama who came all the way from Maine just to hang out with me. And that was so, so good.

As she and I shared over coffee and tea, shopping and meals, lounging and walking we found so many ways in which our journeys have been similar even though the details are really very different.

One is this: There was a distinct moment along the way when each of us began to see light and color again in the midst of our darkness and pain and it was a turning point.

Read the rest here: There’s A Moment When The Light Makes It Through Again

Leaning Into the True Source of Provision

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 a couple years ago 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

Pain Has Shaped Me in Many Ways

I have had my share of pain in life-physical, emotional and psychological. 

Some of it I’ve brought on myself and some of it has been thrust upon me.  

None of it was pleasant.

But by far the most excruciating pain I have endured is the death of my son.

Read the rest here: Transforming Pain

You Can Help Hurting Hearts

We are surrounded by hurting hearts. When one of them turns to you and bravely holds out her pain, accept it as an offering.

Because it is.

An offering of trust, friendship and vulnerability. 

❤ Melanie

We’ve all been there-we ask a routine question and someone refuses to play the social game.  

We say, “How are you?” and they answer honestly instead of with the obligatory, “I’m fine.  You?”

Suddenly the encounter has taken an unexpected turn.

“Oh, no!  I don’t know what to say,” you think.

It can end badly-both of you walking away uncomfortable and wary.

Read the rest here: How To Respond When Someone Shares Their Pain

Oh, How I Miss His Voice! Silent Echoes Haunt My Heart.

I try to limit the time I spend perusing old photos and old social media posts of my missing son.

I’ve learned that while they remind me of sweet memories and happy times they also prick my heart in ways nothing else can.

I was looking for something specific the other day and had to scroll through Dominic’s Facebook page to find it. As I did, I began reading some of the back and forth comments under the posts and pictures.

This time it wasn’t what was said or where the photos were taken that hurt my heart.

Instead it was the tiny little time stamp underneath the words that took my breath away.

Nothing more recent than nine years ago was recorded.

Because that’s when his voice went silent.

Read the rest here: I Miss Your Voice: Silent Echoes Haunt My Heart

I Don’t Get Points For Pretending…

Oh, sometimes I think I’m clever enough to do it.

I edit my words, costume my body and fix my face so  I can act the part.  But truth is, I never manage to fool anyone who looks closer than my plastic smile.

I can’t hide my heart.

And I don’t know why I try-I don’t get points for pretending.

There’s no prize at the end of this long road for the one who makes it with fewest tears.

Read the rest here: Zero Points for Pretending: You Can’t Hide Your Heart

Telling All One’s Heart is Courageous

It is scary to speak aloud what you hope will never happen to you.  It’s unbelievably frightening to admit that we really have no control over whether, or when, we or the ones we love might leave this world.

But I am not going to keep silent.

Not because I want pity or special treatment, but because I want that parent who just buried his or her child to know that you. are. not. alone.

Read the rest here: Courage is a Heart Word