I belong to a number of closed online bereaved parent groups.
I’m not sure if it is a function of gender or not, but the moms seem to be a bit more willing to share their feelings and to respond to the feelings of others.
Every now and then, a dad speaks up. When he does, I usually pay close attention to this male perspective.
Read the rest here: What I’ve Learned About Grief: A Bereaved Dad’s Perspective
I’ll be honest-I bristle more than a little bit when people suggest that bereaved fathers don’t feel grief as deeply as bereaved mothers.
They absolutely do.
The problem is that, as a group, bereaved fathers are less likely to make their feelings known, less likely to talk about the impact grief has on their lives and less likely to allow others into their private world of pain and sorrow.
For that reason, fathers are often overlooked grievers.
But they shouldn’t be.
Dads aren’t bystanders in the shattered world of child loss-they are participants as parents of a son or daughter whom they love just as much as any mother.
So just like Mother’s Day is hard for moms, Father’s Day is hard for them.
Read the rest here: Father’s Day for Bereaved Fathers
I’ve had a lot of people “hold the door” for me on this journey of child loss.
Most of them have not walked in my shoes but they could see my soul was worn and I needed encouragement.
For that I will be eternally grateful.
Read the rest here: Empathy: Let Me Hold The Door For You
I’ve written often about how important friends are to our grief journey. They can encourage, provide practical help and simply by their presence remind a heart that darkness and despair is not all there is.
Men need friends who will step up and step in. They need masculine examples of sharing and caring.
They need grace and space to unlock the chest of emotions that they sometimes keep tucked away and hidden from their family because they think it’s their job to “be strong”.
So if you know a dad whose child has left for Heaven, reach out in the next couple of days before Father’s Day.
Read the rest here: Don’t Forget Dads!
There’s a kind of relational magic that happens when people who have experienced the same or similar struggle get together.
In an instant, their hearts are bound in mutual understanding as they look one to another and say, “Me too. I thought I was the only one.”
It was well into the second year after Dominic ran ahead to heaven that I found an online bereaved parent support group. After bearing this burden alone for so many months, it took awhile before I could open my heart to strangers and share more than the outline of my story.
But, oh, when I did! What relief! What beautiful support and affirmation that every. single. thing. that was happening to me and that I was feeling was normal!
Read the rest here: What I’m Learning From Other Bereaved Parents
So many times I try to avoid admitting that I am unable to meet certain people’s expectations or do certain things that I either used to be able to do or feel I SHOULD be able to do.
I think the reason I don’t mind outing myself on trailers is because that confession usually gets a laugh or a knowing look from the person who helps me or an admission from someone standing near at the feed store that they also have trouble backing up a trailer.
But when I say, “I just don’t think I’m up to teaching VBS” or “I’d love to come to that event but I’ve reached my social quota this week” or “I’m still struggling with driving by that spot or eating at that restaurant” it’s often met with (at best) a quizzical look or (at worst) a comment about how I should be “better” by now.
Read the rest here: Help! I Need Somebody!
Dear Mama,
I know that you never-in your wildest imagination-thought you would need a day set aside for your broken heart and your empty arms.
Who thinks when they learn a new life is growing inside that this same life might be cut short? What heart is brave enough to consider the possibility?
Yet here you are.
I’m so, so sorry.
But there are a few things I want you to know.
Read the rest here: International Bereaved Mother’s Day: An Open Letter to my Fellow Sisters in Loss
It’s hard to explain to anyone who is not part of the child loss community that even though we would NEVER have chosen to join their ranks, these folks are some of the most amazing, compassionate and ENCOURAGING people in the world.
I just got home from Tulsa, exhausted and definitely looking forward to rest, but also encouraged and excited to keep company in person and online with some of these brave souls.
It was an amazing two days sharing hearts and stories, getting to hug necks and spending time listening to parents speak about their precious children.
I am always encouraged when I look around a room and see real conversations taking place between two earnest faces who are clearly experiencing “me too” moments.
So, so much grace, comfort, love and compassion flowed!
Oh, there were tears but there was also lots and lots of laughter.
We were free to speak aloud many of the words we are so often forced to swallow in daily life. No one was shocked anyone was *still* missing his or her child or slept with her daughter’s pillow, a toddler’s stuffie or in their son’s old t-shirt.
We rehearsed THAT MOMENT and how it divided time into before and after.
Knowing glances passed when one mama shared how painful it is to have family never mention her boy. And again when a dad asked about what to do with all the anger he felt.
NO explanation necessary.
We understand.
What a joy to help other parents hold onto the hope I have in Jesus and His promises to redeem and restore what the enemy has stolen and destroyed.
I witnessed hearts knit together in sorrow and love.
It was beautiful.
Do you want to know one of the most repeated questions in grief support groups?
It is, “Am I normal?”
In the midst of great loss,
in the middle of reconstructing a life that includes a giant hole,
while struggling to place one foot in front of the other,
parents who have buried a child are often worried about whether what they feel and how they act is “normal”.
Grieving a child is a complex and life-long process as I wrote about here: Am I Normal?
I love that social media and online resources mean no bereaved parent has to feel alone or be alone.
But as we’ve learned from three long years of forced isolation, there’s really no substitute for a hug and an in-person smile. There is just something amazing that happens when someone literally comes alongside and says, “Me too.”
That’s why I am excited to be part of an upcoming conference offered by Our Hearts Are Home, an organization founded by fellow bereaved parents, Gary and Laura House.
Y’all know that I don’t do a lot of in-person retreats or conferences.
Even though I love the energy and connection, life has been so demanding and often chaotic for the past several years, I simply couldn’t commit to something weeks or months down the road. The stress of worrying about having to back out at the last minute was too much.
So when I pulled out my calendar and wrote (in ink!) that I would be part of this conference it was a BIG DEAL. It was also a leap of faith-faith in God giving me the words and faith in trusting someone else to shape a space where I could speak them.
I’m as vulnerable as the next bereaved parent.
Years of spilling my experience across the Internet haven’t really made it any easier to do it in person and in public. I’m much more comfortable writing in the quiet of my own home at the kitchen table where I get second chances and can edit what is ultimately shared with others.
Still, this opportunity was one I didn’t want to miss.
Along with sharing our stories, the parents participating in the panel of presenters will be sharing our hearts, our faith journeys and the words and practices that have helped us hold onto hope in the midst of life’s greatest heartache and challenge.
It will be a unique combination of authentic experience and exhortation from those who are living with child loss and who also love Jesus.
I understand if you are too early in this journey to even consider gathering in a room with others who have the same heartache.
It was a long time before I could do that. But may I encourage you to consider taking part online? Or, if you are just beginning to feel a tiny stir in your spirit that says, “Go ahead! It might do you good!” then sign up and join us face-to-face.
I can’t promise there won’t be tears but I CAN promise there will be joy and laughter. Some of the best, most life-affirming moments I’ve had since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven were in the company of others who are missing their Heaven-dwelling children too.
So if your aching heart and weary soul are searching for a safe space to be encouraged, uplifted and filled with honest answers along with biblical truth, please consider joining me for this event.
I’m confident you won’t be disappointed.
Here’s the link: https://ourheartsarehome.org/conference
P.S. If you are interested in “meeting” some of us who will be there, you can find several of our stories in the book published and edited by Gary and Laura here: https://www.amazon.com/Until-Then-Stories-Loss-Hope/dp/B0BFF2LVBL
thelifeididntchoose 