There is a lot of misconception around the notion of “acceptance” in the grief community. Sometimes among the very people counseling those walking this valley of loss.
It’s not a once-and-done realization or commitment or decision. It’s a process…
Sometimes those that walk alongside the bereaved are biding time, waiting for that “final” stage of grief: Acceptance.
And some therapists, counselors and armchair psychiatrists are certain that if the grieving mother can simply accept the death of her child, she can move on–that she can get back to a more “normal’ life.
But this notion is as ridiculous as imagining that welcoming a new baby into a household doesn’t change everything.
As a bereaved mother, I long desperately to know that my son is still remembered and that he still matters. Of course, he matters to me-but it is a great gift to know that he matters to others as well.
Death is scary. Even for us who trust Jesus. And the death of a child just trashes the notion that we are in control, that we can fully protect the ones we love from all harm.
But you are frightened of what you cannot comprehend.
I don’t want people passing me in the street or in the sanctuary secretly shaking their head and thinking, “poor woman”.
I would like to be understood-at least as well as anyone standing on the outside of child loss can understand…
A bereaved parent’s grief doesn’t fit an easy-to-understand narrative. And it flies in the face of the American “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality.
I wrote this post in an effort to help the nonbereaved understand that funerals and memorials and other outward symbols of “good-bye” are only the BEGINNING to our sense of loss and sorrow. And that while everyone else walks away and goes back to the life they had the day before, we stand on the threshold to a different life we are unprepared for, know nothing about and do not want.
“A funeral or memorial service seems like a final chapter. We close the coffin, close the doors and everyone goes home.
But for bereaved parents and their surviving children, it’s not an end, it is a beginning.
Much like a wedding or birth serves as the threshold to a new way of life, a new commitment, a new understanding of who you are, burying a child does the same.
I walked away from the cemetary overwhelmed by the finality of death–not in a theological sense–I believe firmly that my son lives with Jesus–but with the undeniable fact that he is no longer available to me on this earth.”
“Before I lost Dominic, I know that I, like others who had never experienced the death of a child, undoubtedly said and did things that were hurtful instead of helpful.
I painfully remember sharing at a Thanksgiving women’s gathering and, meaning to encourage the ladies, said something like, “I think we are able to better face the big disappointments or trials in life, but find the daily drip, drip, drip of unfulfilled expectations to be a greater challenge.” A bereaved mom in attendance set me straight (in a very kind and gracious manner!).
That exchange has come often to my mind in these months after burying my son. I wish I could go back and have a do-over.”
I asked other bereaved parents to share from their experience the things that were helpful and not so helpful to them after losing a child. I was amazed by the answers!
What follows is a combination of their words and mine–blended together to help others in this journey.
If you are a bereaved parent, and have wanted to gently remind amily and friends what is helpful and what isn’t-sharing a post to Facebook can be a non-threatening way to let them know using someone else’s voice.
“When I asked other bereaved parents to share the things people did that blessed them in the wake of losing a child, I didn’t expect so many stories of extravagant love–of acts surpassing anything I could have thought of or imagined.”
I asked other bereaved parents to share from their experience the things that were helpful and not so helpful to them after losing a child. I was amazed by the answers!
What follows is a combination of their words and mine–blended together to help others in this journey.
If you are a bereaved parent, and have wanted to gently remind amily and friends what is helpful and what isn’t-sharing a post to Facebook can be a non-threatening way to let them know using someone else’s voice.
“When Dominic died, I didn’t get a manual on what to do. I didn’t get an orientation into how to be a grieving parent. So when some people asked how they could help me and my family, I really didn’t know.”
I asked other bereaved parents to share from their experience the things that were helpful and not so helpful to them after losing a child. I was amazed by the answers!
What follows is a combination of their words and mine–blended together to help others in this journey.
If you are a bereaved parent, and you have wanted to gently remind amily and friends what is helpful and what isn’t-sharing a post to Facebook can be a non-threatening way to let them know using someone else’s voice.
“The death of any loved one opens a door and forces you to pass through.
You cannot procrastinate, cannot refuse, cannot ignore or pretend it away.
Suddenly, you find yourself where you absolutely do not want to be. And there is no going back.”
Beginning today and through the next week, I will be sharing again a series of posts written to help those journeying the valley of grief and those walking with them on the journey. I asked other bereaved parents to share from their experience the things that were helpful and not so helpful to them after losing a child.
Many of these insights are useful for blessing anyone in any difficult situation–we can all use a little help from our friends.
If you are a bereaved parent, and you have wanted to let family and friends know what’s helpful and what isn’t-sharing a post to Facebook can be a non-threatening way to let them know using someone else’s voice.
“The worst conceivable thing has happened, and it has been mended…All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.” ~Julian of Norwich
I’m not sure when I first read this quote, but it came to my mind that awful morning. And I played it over and over in my head, reassuring my broken heart that indeed, the worst had already happened, and been mended.
Death had died.
Christ was risen-the firstfruits of many brethren.
When the Sabbath was over, just as the first day of the week was dawning Mary from Magdala and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. At that moment there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from Heaven, went forward and rolled back the stone and took his seat upon it. His appearance was dazzling like lightning and his clothes were white as snow. The guards shook with terror at the sight of him and collapsed like dead men. But the angel spoke to the women, “Do not be afraid. I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here—he is risen, just as he said he would. Come and look at the place where he was lying. Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead. And, listen, he goes before you into Galilee! You will see him there! Now I have told you my message.”
Matthew 28:1-7 PHILLIPS
Dominic had closed his eyes on earth but had opened them in Heaven-never to close them again.
My son’s body was here, but he was THERE-with our Risen Lord.
A few years ago, our church choir sang this song for Resurrection Sunday. At the time, a very dear friend, a faithful follower of Jesus, and a beautiful, grace-filled lady was about to meet Jesus. I sang this with tears streaming down my face, because I imagined her running, healed and whole, to the arms of her Savior.
Now, I can barely make it through just reading the words-because I see my son there as well.
“I Will Rise” by Chris Tomlin
There’s a peace I’ve come to know Though my heart and flesh may fail There’s an anchor for my soul I can say “It is well”
Jesus has overcome And the grave is overwhelmed The victory is won He is risen from the dead
[Chorus:] And I will rise when He calls my name No more sorrow, no more pain I will rise on eagles’ wings Before my God fall on my knees And rise I will rise
There’s a day that’s drawing near When this darkness breaks to light And the shadows disappear And my faith shall be my eyes
Jesus has overcome And the grave is overwhelmed The victory is won He is risen from the dead
So how does this broken-hearted mama face a new day?
How do I wait with hope while longing for that heavenly reunion?
I remember…
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
thelifeididntchoose