Tag: authenticity

I Just Don’t Like Halloween

I’ve never been much of a fan of Halloween but the first October after Dom ran ahead to Heaven I nearly threw up every time I had to pass that aisle in a store or drive by someone’s yard decked out to celebrate darkness and all things scary.

When you’ve lived your own horror story, made up ones aren’t nearly as attractive as they might once have been.

When you’ve spent the last hours before the coffin closes holding the hand of your lifeless child, making merry around death and dying just isn’t something you want to do.

I know some bereaved parents have fond memories around this time of year and thinking about your child dressed up for trick or treating is a comfort.

But I just can’t get over the real images burned in my memory to make room for a lighthearted “celebration” of fear.❤

Except for a few years early in childhood, I have never liked Halloween.  The combination of darkness and creepiness makes my skin crawl.

And now, this side of child loss it makes me angry. 

Why?  Because for one night (really, for a couple of weeks!) Americans not only think about death, they spend millions of dollars celebrating it.

Not celebrating ACTUAL death-not the absolute horror of being told your child is gone, gone, gone.  Instead it’s a fake, “funny”, silly made-up mockery of a very real, very awful truth.

Read the rest here: Halloween

When Afraid to Fall Asleep, I Speak Peace to My Heart

When I was a little girl, I struggled mightily being afraid of the dark.

Sometimes I could barely close my eyes because I was scared something terrible would happen between going to sleep and waking up.

I outgrew that as I grew into my faith.

go to sleep in peace

But after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I found myself again afraid to go to sleep. 

Read the rest here: Between Sleep and Wake: Speaking Peace To My Heart

Folks Ask, “How ARE You Doing?” Some Days I Still Struggle.

I first shared this post all the way back in 2016.

Most people I knew had experienced my son’s death as a moment in time, a single event, a date on the calendar but for me and my family it was an ongoing event.

His absence continued to shape our lives in ways we couldn’t have imagined in the immediate aftermath of his accident.

Folks (meaning well but clueless) often began conversations with, “How are you doing?”.

What I really wanted to tell them was I had absolutely, positively NO IDEA but usually settled for, “As well as can be”.

Over ten years later I can say that most days are pretty good. I’ve learned to navigate the rocky territory of child loss and only rarely fall into a pit of despair.

Some days I’d still say that I don’t really know HOW I’m doing it-just that I AM doing it.

❤ Melanie

People see me, these years and months after Dominic left us and ask, “How are you doing?”

I come up with an answer because that’s the law of conversation-you ask something and I answer, then I ask something and you answer.

are-you-ok

Gotta keep that ball rolling.  

If it drops we are both forced to stand there wondering what to do with our bodies, our faces and our thoughts.

But right now, I don’t know HOW I’m doing.

Read the rest here: I Don’t Know How I’m Doing

No Matter How Much It Cost Me, I’d Still Choose You

Some of us only felt tiny hands and feet pressing against the inside of our body.  

Some of us saw first steps or first grade.  

Some of us watched our child drive away to college certain it was the beginning of an adventure, not the beginning of the end.

Read the rest here: I’d Still Choose You

Even If You’ve Heard It, I NEED to Tell the Story

I have so much more empathy for older folks since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

I’ve always tried to be a patient listener when hearing that same story over and over and over but have to admit that sometimes I’d drift off or internally mock an elder because I was tired of hearing it.

Not anymore.

Because I understand now that it’s in the telling that one both commemorates and honors people as well as the past.

Read the rest here: I Need To Tell The Story (Even If You’ve Heard It Before)

Fault Lines-How Grief Shakes Things Up

I’m no geologist, but from what I understand, earthquakes are nearly always “about to happen”.  Fault lines guarantee it.  Pressure is building underneath the surface of the earth and when it reaches a level that can no longer be contained, it spews.

Can I just let you in on a secret?

Bereaved parents are full of fault lines.

Read the rest here: Fault Lines: Bereaved Parents and Social Anxiety

Gap’s Still Growing: Trying to Remember in a World That Forgets

I’ve written before about how I choose to leave some things just as Dominic left them-even over eight years later.

It’s my way of maintaining physical space in our home that represents the space in my heart where only he can fit.

It’s also more than that.

As time progresses, nearly every other tangible evidence that Dominic existed is being worn away.

Read the rest here: And The Gap Grows: Trying To Remember In a World That Forgets

Spoon Theory and Grieving Parents

We like to think we are invincible, full of infinite energy and able to handle anything life may throw at us. It’s understandable considering Western society places a premium on heroic endurance in the face of adversity or challenge.

Truth is, though, our emotional, physical and mental energy are not infinite. We ALL have an absolute rock bottom where we simply cannot do one. more. thing.

And living with child loss means I exhaust my resources sooner than many.

I love this concrete representation of my limitations. It has helped me understand that it’s OK to say, “no” and it’s human to have to.

I hope it gives you courage to do the same. 

❤ Melanie

The basic idea is that everyone starts with a finite number of “spoons” representing the energy, attention and stamina that can be accessed for any given day. When you do something, you remove a spoon (or two or three) based on the effort required.  When you have used up all your spoons, you are operating at a deficit. 

Like a budget, you can only do that so long before you are in big trouble.

Read the rest here: Spoon Theory Applied to Bereavement

When You’ve Stopped Asking For Miracles: A Prayer for Mercy and Grace

Father, I have stopped asking for miracles.

My wounded heart has lost the faith it once had for hoping You might step in and make something out of nothing.  

I still believe in YOU.  I still hope in YOU.

Read the rest here: A Prayer For Mercy and Grace

Broken Into Beautiful: Inviting Hope to Heal Our Hearts

I mentioned yesterday that I’d be spending the weekend at a retreat with other bereaved moms.

I chose the theme, “Broken into Beautiful, because I believe with my whole heart there is no yin/yang dual universe where darkness has power enough to overcome the light. Sin mars creation and wreaks havoc but even all that awful is being woven together into a tapestry of beauty and usefulness that one day will display the glory of God and His love for us.

I also believe that one must make a choice to invite God to transform pain into purpose through His comfort, hope, strength and grace.

So we are settling in this morning with our coffee, Bibles, journals and sweet, sweet time to read about, talk about and digest the promises of God in Christ that can lead us faithfully through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

We will be exploring prayer-choosing to engage even when we don’t have anything to say and don’t want to listen; perspective-learning to trust truth over feelings; perseverance-doing the next right thing no matter how long the journey; and purpose-sharing our stories for the good of others and to the glory of God.

We will chat over meals and craft times (even for the non-crafty!).

We’ve got a jig saw puzzle going.

We will enjoy afternoon walks on dirt roads, evening campfires and plenty of time to pray with one another in quiet corners.

Every time I gather with moms in these intimate settings, I’m amazed by how the Spirit moves and hearts receive some measure of healing.

I can’t wait to see what He does in us this weekend.