As families gather around tables and in backyards to celebrate fall birthdays, Thanksgiving and (soon!) Christmas, my heart longs even harder to hear Dominic’s name.
Of course I remember him-he’s my son-and of course others do too.
But it is especially helpful this time of year to have friends and family speak of him aloud.
Read the rest here: Let Me Know You Remember
I was asked awhile back to be part of a project shepherded by fellow parents-in-loss, Laura and Gary House (https://ourheartsarehome.org/).
They wanted to gather and publish stories from other child loss survivors in hopes of encouraging hearts and strengthening the faith of parents facing the unimaginable.
I don’t mind saying that in spite of all I’ve written in this space for the past nine (!) years, it was challenging to distill my thoughts about that night, the days that followed and my own faith journey since into a single chapter.
But I, and a dozen other parents, did just that.
In our own words we tell our stories. We share our struggles and our triumphs.
Read the rest here: Until Then-Stories of Loss and Hope
Tomorrow I will be sixty-one years old.
When I celebrated my fiftieth, I had so many dreams and plans! I couldn’t have imagined that the next ten years would be filled with the heartache of child loss, along with all the hope and joy of an expanding family.
But here I am.
Definitely older and, I would like to think, a little wiser.
Wiser to the truth that no one escapes pain in this life. Wiser to the fact that joy and sorrow can coexist. Wise enough to know by experience that sometimes the very best thing you can do is shut your mouth and open your arms to a hurting heart. Wise enough to realize that birthdays for bereaved parents are often complicated.
I wrote this post several years ago but share it annually because unless you’ve sent a child ahead to Heaven, you might not realize how very tricky birthdays can be for the parents left behind.
❤ Melanie
Tomorrow is my birthday.
And while I am truly grateful for another trip around the sun, since Dominic left us it’s not a simple celebration of life lived and the hope of years to come.
The last birthday I had with an unbroken family circle was a lovely surprise party for my fiftieth held in Dom’s apartment.
Eleven years later and it seems a lifetime ago.
Read the rest here: Birthdays Are…Complicated
Sometimes, no matter how hard I try to “keep my chin up” or “remind myself of redemption”, my soul gets weary.
I’ve recently come off of several months of activity along with emotionally charged interactions and I. am. worn. out.
There’s not really a good or easy way to describe this kind of bone-deep tiredness to someone who has not walked the path we’ve walked so I usually settle for, “I’m tired”. That’s when they typically suggest I get more rest or take a nap.
But I know that won’t really help.
❤ Melanie
When I say to someone, “I’m so very tired!” they nearly always suggest a nap. Trust me, if a nap would erase this soul weariness, I’d take one every single day.
But it doesn’t, so I don’t.
Instead I go outside and breathe some fresh air, make a cup of hot tea and sit down with a good book, or just sit down and watch the Christmas lights or a candle with my cat in my lap.
Read the rest here: When Sleep Won’t Fix It
From the outside-very soon after all the formal visiting, meal bringing and memorial service or funeral-most bereaved parents look “fine”.
We have to.
The world doesn’t stop turning because our world imploded.
Work, life, family duties, household chores, and all the ordinary things determined by hours and calendars keep rolling along.
But on the inside, every bit of who we are, how we feel, what we think has been devastatingly poked, prodded, ripped apart and rearranged.
And just like there is no substitute for TIME in physical healing, there is no substitute for TIME in emotional, mental or spiritual healing either.
So if you are fresh on this path, new to the rigors of trying to “do life” while mourning your precious child, recognize that there is oh, so much damage where people can’t see.
Read the rest here: Don’t Let The Outside Fool You
Listening is love in action.
If you know someone whose heart carries great grief-and child loss is not the only hard journey hearts are making–offer to listen.
Give up a few minutes to hear how they are really doing, what is really hard, what they really need to say but may be afraid to speak aloud. Leave spaces in conversation so a heart can work up the courage to share. Don’t be quick to offer platitudes that shut down deep discussion.
It often takes many, many repetitions of traumatic events for a heart to begin to heal.
Read the rest here: Why I Have To Talk It Out
My son’s death is a point in time for people outside my immediate grief circle. It’s a date on a calendar. There is a period after his name.
But it is an ongoing experience for me and my family.
We don’t only remember on birthdays, holidays and anniversary days, we can never forget.
Yet often others do.
Read the rest here: I’m Sorry
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
Last month was a wonderful opportunity for ministry firsts!
I hosted the first retreat for bereaved moms and it was a great blessing.
Five women shared their stories, their children and studied the Word of God for several gloriously unhurried days.
We had four structured sessions along with craft time, meals, long chats on the front porch and around a campfire, as well as casual conversation in between. We even caught a rare appearance of the Northern Lights in the Panhandle of Florida!
We ended the last evening with a candlelit time of remembrance.
Each mom (by her own report) came away encouraged, refreshed and better equipped to do the work grief requires. Laughter and tears in abundance!
Thanks to generous donations it was provided at no cost to those in attendance.
Four more retreats will be offered next year so look for dates to be released soon on the website if you’d like to attend.
A few days after returning home, my husband and I hosted the first in-person support group meeting here in Bibb County, Alabama.
There was a light supper and got to know one another a little over our meal. We talked about our children and some tips for surviving the holidays with a broken heart.
Ten parents attended and several came from quite a distance to be there. All expressed gratitude for a safe space where grief was welcome and hope was shared.
There are no other nearby groups for parent in our area so I look forward to hosting these on the third Thursday of most months.
You’ll be able to find the dates under the “Events” section of the website as well as on Facebook.
In January I will share some thoughts on how our perception of time changes after loss and how turning a calendar page can be difficult.
I continue to be humbled by the many individuals-both bereaved parents and those who love them-who message, give and contribute in some way to the this ministry.
I’m still a little overwhelmed with the administration of details but am learning better how to do those things proficiently and in less time.
Who knew you CAN teach an old dog (or at least an older woman!) new tricks?
Some days I spend all day tracking down tips, asking more tech savvy friends or family for help or simply googling how to undo a giant mess I made trying to make something better.
But I’m truly excited to have the time and energy to invest in reaching out in a new way to bereaved parents.
So what can you do to help the ministry continue to grow?
Child loss has been my greatest challenge, my deepest pain and my most profound misery.
But is has also been the very place God has met me with the greatest comfort, the deepest compassion and the most profound revelation of Who He is.
In spite of everything I’ve endured, my hope remains unshaken and unshakeable.
The comfort I have received is now mine to give to others.
I am oh, so grateful for your partnership, prayers and encouragement that is making it possible.
May the Lord richly bless you as you have blessed me.
***If you would like me to share with your online or in-person group in 2025, feel free to message me on Facebook Messenger or drop me an email at Godsgrdnr@gmail.com. I’m working on my calendar now and will accept as many invitations as time, energy and resources allow. ***
It’s a nearly universal human tendency to try to fit another’s experience into our own.
Even though I try hard not to, I still often find myself saying things like, “I know just how you feel” or, “This worked for me, it ought to work for you”.
Trouble is, grief is as individual as a fingerprint.
Read the rest here: Grief Is As Individual As A Fingerprint
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