bereaved grandparent – thelifeididntchoose

Navigating Grief: Helpful Tips for Interacting With Bereaved Families

I firmly believe that our friends and extended family want to reach out, want to help, want to walk alongside as we grieve the death of our child.

I am also convinced that many of them don’t because they don’t know how.

It may seem unfair that in addition to experiencing our loss, we also have to educate others on how to help us as we experience it, but that’s just how it is.

The alternative is to feel frustrated and abandoned or worse.

So here’s a list of helpful tips (and a great infographic!) for interacting with bereaved families:

Express condolences and show you care. Don’t avoid me, please! You cannot make me any sadder. I need to hear from you.

Refer to my child by name. Dominic is STILL my son. He is still part of my story. But because he’s no longer visible, his name often goes unspoken. Please talk to me about him, use his name, tell me a story of how he impacted your life or a memory that makes you smile. It makes me smile too.

Actively listen and be supportive. It’s hard to listen to someone tell you how much they are hurting and not offer advice or think of ways to “fix” them. I can tell you from experience that what I need most on my darkest days is for someone to say, “It IS dark. I’m so sorry.” Silence is OK too. Not every quiet moment needs to be filled with chatter.

Understand that each family and family member will grieve in different ways. You may have observed child loss before but what you saw in one family may not translate to the next. There are no hard and fast rules for this awful journey. The age of the child, family background and structure, manner of death-all these impact grief. In addition, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers all bring their personalities, stage of life, beliefs and experiences to the journey. There were five of us left behind when Dominic ran ahead. We were each devastated but expressed it in very different ways. Nearly five years later, those gaps have widened, not narrowed.

Fathers grieve too. Sometimes support focuses almost exclusively on the mother. In part because of a common notion that mothers are somehow emotionally closer to their children than dads. In part because many men are less demonstrative and may do a good job hiding grief. Whatever the reason, don’t assume one parent is dealing “better” with the loss than another (mother or father) just because he (or she) is not crying openly. No one escapes this awful blow unscathed.

Don’t overlook siblings. Surviving siblings are sometimes referred to as “forgotten grievers”. If they are very young, people may think they are relatively unaffected by the death of a brother or sister. If they are grown and out of the home, people may figure that the siblings’ own, very full and very busy, lives keep them preoccupied. While some of that may be true-to an extent-most surviving siblings are deeply impacted by the death of a brother or sister, regardless of age. Not only have they lost a member of the family and changed birth order, they have also lost the family they knew, the parents they knew and a co-keeper of memories and secrets. Bereaved parents are often overwhelmed with grief for their living children as well as the child that is missing. One of the best gifts anyone gave me was reaching out to my surviving children. It helped my heart to know that they had friends who were supporting and loving them well.

Be yourself. People often feel awkward and stiff when approaching a bereaved parent or family member. That’s perfectly understandable. The bereaved seem so fragile (are so fragile!) that folks are afraid the wrong word or touch might shatter them into a thousand pieces. But what your friend or family needs right now is the you they’ve always known and loved. If you are a hugger, hug! If you are a storyteller, tell stories (appropriate ones, ones of the missing child). If you are a cook and cleaner, then cook and clean. Our family was blessed by our friends doing exactly what they had always done-come alongside in their own special way. So much had changed in our world that familiar touchstones, familiar routines and familiar faces were a real comfort.

Keep in mind words matter. Now is not the time to try to satisfy your curiosity about exactly “what happened”. Loud joking is rarely welcome. Many bereaved families find it hard to laugh in the first days, weeks, months because it feels like betrayal. Don’t offer platitudes intended to help them “look on the bright side” or consider that “it could be worse”. There is nothing worse than burying your child. Nothing. Listen and take direction from the person you are comforting. Follow his or her lead. And if something less than helpful slips out, own it and apologize.

It’s never too late to reach out. NEVER. Sometimes people stay away at first for lots of reasons. Or they show up for the memorial service and then fade into the background. After a bit, even if they want to reach out, they may feel embarrassed by the long absence. Don’t be. So many people stop calling, visiting and texting within the first weeks that your outstretched hand of friendship will be a welcome beacon of hope. If you need to, apologize for your absence. Be honest. Admit you were scared or whatever.

Then show up.

Stick around.

You don’t have to be perfect.

Just be present.

Navigating Grief: Understanding “Acceptance”

In all fairness, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross had no idea her research would be taken out of context and plastered across professional literature and media outlets as a definitive explanation for the grief experience.

But ever since, counselors, pastors, laypersons and the general public have come to expect folks to politely follow the five (sometimes described as six) stages of grief up and out of brokenness like a ladder to success.

It doesn’t work that way.

❤ Melanie

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.

And new parents have months to prepare.

I had the brief millisecond between the words leaving the deputy’s mouth and my ears hearing them for my mind to comprehend.

And I admit, there were moments in the day, even a few months afterwards, that I found myself saying out loud, “How can Dominic be dead?”

But those have mostly passed.

I accept that my son is dead. He will not return to me in the land of the living. He will not walk through my front door and he will not grow older, marry and have children of his own.

Every now and then, I do see a shape in a crowd, the shoulders set just so and for a moment my heart leaps. But my mind quickly remembers that Dominic is not here.

So, acceptance means that I understand that things are the way they are.

Acceptance does not mean that I have to like it or that I don’t wish some things were different.

Acceptance means that I comprehend the future will not include new memories with Dominic as part of our family circle here on earth.

Acceptance does not mean that I never look back fondly and with yearning for the years we spent together. It does not mean that I don’t grieve the years we won’t have.

I accept that I have a life to live even though part of my heart is no longer with me.

But acceptance does not mean that the life I live going forward is not impacted by my loss or that it isn’t framed at the edges by grief.

I am now what losing a child has made me.

Acceptance means that I will offer up this new me, just as I have offered up every new me in the past, to the God Who made me, to use me according to His plan and for His glory.

The people of Israel were shaped as much by what they lost as by what they gained.

A group of Israelites, led by Ezra the scribe, returned to Jerusalem from Babylon, and were charged with rebuilding the Temple that had been destroyed many years earlier.

A few among them had seen with their own eyes the glory and majesty of Solomon’s Temple, but most of those returning had been born in captivity. To the older men, this new temple paled in comparison to what they had lost. But to the younger, it represented a new beginning and a brighter future.

Many of the older priests and Levites and the heads of families cried aloud because they remembered seeing the first temple years before. But others were so happy that they celebrated with joyful shouts.Their shouting and crying were so noisy that it all sounded alike and could be heard a long way off.

Ezra 3:12-13 CEV

The grieving were sad, but they worked anyway.

Acceptance acknowledges loss, but is not immobilized by it.

So how to love me and others well in this phase of our grief journey?

Understand that acceptance involves both of us: while I must accept the fact that my child is dead and that my life is different than the one I would have chosen for myself–others must accept that I am who I am and I will never be the other me–the one before losing a child, again.

My life as a bereaved mother is always going to be a mixture of sorrow and joy.

It will always include looking back and looking forward.

It can’t be anything else.

Navigating Grief: Love is the Reason I Grieve

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them.
—James O’Barr

I grieve because I love.

My tears are a gift to the son I miss. My sorrow honors his memory. My broken heart gives evidence to the ones walking with me that my love is fierce and timeless.

This love isn’t the romantic, gushy, flowers-and-chocolate love celebrated on Valentine’s Day–but the deep, abiding, sacrificial love that brands a mother’s soul.

The love that began in the first moments of knowing I would welcome a new child into our home. The love that stayed away from certain foods and suffered through colds without medicine because there was LIFE inside of me–my body was no longer mine alone.

The love that poured forth nourishment from breasts and lived the first months at the mercy of his appetite.

The love that did without sleep–because what is a little rest compared to being solace for my crying child?

I would give anything for my children. Even my own life.

But in the end, I didn’t have that choice.

Watching the young mother with her infant, the older mama and her child at play in a park, the joy and pride of the even older woman as her son or daughter graduates high school, college or gets married–how could anyone think a mother’s grief could be small?

How can all the love and all the hopes and all the dreams of a mama’s heart be squeezed into days or weeks or months of tears and sorrow?

If my son had lived, the rest of my life would not have been long enough to pour out the love I have for him.

It is not nearly long enough for me to show my surviving children how very much I cherish them.

So my grief will be large and lifelong–as big and unbounded as my love.

It cannot be anything less.

Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve.

—Earl Grollman

Navigating Grief: 31 Practical Ways to Love Grieving Parents

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.

A comment repeated often by bereaved parents is, “Please don’t use the phrase, ‘let me know if there is anything I can do’, people mean well, but this is unhelpful.”

Another mom put it this way, ” There are too many meanings to this phrase. It can mean anywhere from, ‘I really want to help’ to ‘I don’t know what to say so I’ll say this but I don’t really want you to ask’. Also it’s so hard to make any decisions–trying to figure out what you might want or be able to do is overwhelming. Instead, offer specific things you can do and make plans to do them.”

For those that want to help, here ia a list of 31 ways you can provide practical and timely help to grieving parents:

Show up and answer phones, open the door to visitors, find room for food they bring. Act as a buffer zone for the parents.

Consider donating PTO, sick leave or vacation days to a bereaved parent if your employer allows it. Many employers allow three (3) days leave for a death in the family with no special consideration for the death of a child. Three days is not long enough and many parents can’t afford to stay home without pay.

Donate sky miles, rental car points, hotel points or other loyalty points to the parents or family members that need to travel. There are many expenses associated with burial and the family may not have extra money for travel.

Pick up family members from the airport that are coming for services.

Offer to accompany the parents to the funeral home as they make arrangements.

Donate a burial plot. Few people have one picked out for their child.

With the family’s permission, set up an account to take donations to help with burial expenses or the medical bills that will be arriving soon.

Offer an extra bedroom to out-of-town family members or friends. Not every home can accomodate extra guests and the parents need some space of their own.

Bring folding tables and chairs to the home–they are easy to set up and take down as needed to accomodate extra people in the house.

Respect a grieving parent’s need for some private time and space. If we retreat to a back room, let us. Check on us quietly and gently, but don’t follow us around asking, “Are you OK?” No, we are not. And being asked over and over is stressful.

It is always helpful to bring food. Set up a meal schedule on Takethemameal.com. There is a way to note any special dietary restrictions. When people sign up, they can see what others are bringing/have brought. Driving directions are available on the site and the family can ask that meals be brought at a standard time so there is someone home to receive them.

Bring ice in an ice chest for drinks.

If a parent has a chronic health condition like diabetes or heart problems, check in with them regularly to see if they are taking their medication and if they are experiencing new symptoms.

Offer to drive grieving parents where they need to go. Deep grief can impair driving as much as or more than alcohol or drugs. Be willing to sit in the lobby or parking lot–we may not want company finalizing arrangements or speaking with our pastor.

Clean the house. And don’t allow your intimate glimpse to become a source of gossip.

Don’t turn on the television or radio unless the family asks you to or does it themselves. If you want to know the score, check your phone or go to your car.

Mow the yard, tidy flower beds, sweep, rake leaves.

Bring toilet paper, paper towels, paper plates and napkins.

If one or both of the bereaved parents are caregivers to an elderly relative, offer to take over that responsibility for awhile. (Only if you are willing and competent to do so.)

Take surviving younger children for a walk in the park, to get ice cream or a hamburger. Not all children will be comfortable leaving their parents. Even if they don’t understand what is going on, they may feel insecure and upset.

Sit with and minister to surviving older children. We are concerned about our surviving children as well as the child we lost. Knowing someone is loving on our kids is a great comfort.

Clean the family’s car before the funeral.

Make sure there are bottles of water and maybe a snack in the car for afterwards–often family members can’t eat and forget to drink before the day of the funeral.

Begin assembling electronic photos from friends for a slideshow at the funeral, if the family requests one. Make sure you run choices by the parents before you flash them on a screen.

Make a list of appropriate songs that might help the family choose. Don’t be hurt or offended if we use other songs instead–your list may very well have nudged our memory and been helpful.

Offer to drive the family to the funeral and burial.

Attend the funeral. We want to know our child mattered. We need to know you care.

If your church provides a meal for the family after burial, and you are asked to bring a dish, bring one.

Offer to help pack up a child’s dorm room or apartment. We may welcome the help or we may want to do it alone–it has nothing to do with you.

Many grieving mamas want something that smells like their child. If you are helping to clean in the first hours or days, don’t wash all the child’s clothing. Put a few worn items in a ziploc bag for her to have later.

Don’t abandon the family after service. There is such a sense of finality when the coffin is lowered or the memorial over. Usually lots of people are around and then we go back to the house and quiet overwhelms us. If you are close to the family, consider joining them for a little while when they first get home.

Dear friends, do you think you’ll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it? For instance, you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, “Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!” and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup—where does that get you? Isn’t it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?

James 2:16-17 MSG

Are you a bereaved parent? Have you walked this path with a friend or family member? Please add your suggestions to these in the comments section.

Navigating Grief: When It’s Been YEARS-How to Bless a Grieving Parent

I do NOT blame you that my son and my sorrow have drifted down your list of “things that need attention”. Your life is as busy as mine once was and your calendar full of commitments and celebrations that require your attendance.

But each year it feels lonelier and lonelier.

Because each year fewer and fewer people remember or if they do, they don’t know how to offer that up as a blessing because it feels awkward or stiff.

So may I suggest a few things that most bereaved parents would absolutely LOVE for friends and family to say or do-especially as the months roll into years or even decades?

Read the rest here: When It’s Been YEARS-How to Bless a Grieving Parent

Navigating Grief: How Pastors Can Minister to Bereaved Parents

Being a pastor doesn’t mean you come out of seminary with answers to everything.

It doesn’t even mean you emerge equipped for very many of the situations and conversations thrust upon you once you enter ministry.

But I know a lot of folks expect you to be a pillar of strength, a fountain of wisdom, a well-spring of comfort. I’m sure you try to be all those things but it takes years to develop the experience needed to know what to say and do and what NOT to say and do in the most sensitive and painful moments humans face.

So when a thoughtful and inquisitive fellow bereaved parent asked the question below, I found myself REALLY considering the essential advice I’d pass along to a pastor about the unique and uniquely challenging ministry to those whose children have run ahead to Heaven.

It is most certainly NOT exhaustive, but hits the high points. It’s short, succinct and can go a long way toward promoting healing in shattered hearts.

I hope my pastor friends will read it and tuck it away in an easily accessible place. I promise you will need it one day.

I hope my fellow bereaved parents and others will pass it along to pastors they know.

❤ Melanie

This is the question: What advice would you give a pastor to serve, encourage, and walk with a grieving parent? What would you tell them not to do?

I would tell a pastor to:

*Listen, listen and listen some more– without correcting or judging. This is not a teachable moment. Take off the theologian’s coat and put on human flesh.

*Acknowledge the depth of their loss- not compare it or try to identify with it (unless you have also lost a child) and absolutely not minimize it.

*Don’t toss Bible verses– especially those intended to “bright side” their experience.

*Don’t stop checking in even if they stop going to church. If your ministry ends at the door of the building, you’ll lose lots of sheep.

*It will take longer- probably by years-than you think it should for them to return to some semblance of “normal”. Be patient.

*Ask, but don’t pressure, parents who once served (or are serving at the time of loss) if they want to continue serving. Some do, some find it impossible.

*Do not engage in gossip and speculation about “how they’re handling” their grief.

*Educate your congregation on the devastation of grief in general and child loss in particular. (See the story of Jacob-how deeply he grieved when he thought Joseph was dead, what a mess his family was…)

*When appropriate, make space in yearly celebrations or traditions for recognition of those who are mourning and who want to have their child (or other loved one) remembered.

*As time goes on, ask specific questions (How is your grief today? What do you find to be a struggle right now? Could you share something about _____, I love to hear about him/her?) and then listen some more.

Navigating Grief: The Problem of [Un]Answered Prayer

Our family is going through another hard, hard season. Three weeks ago today, my granddaughter, Holly, was gathered into the arms of Jesus.

This little babe was prayed for before she was born early and every moment of every day until she went to Heaven a mere fourteen days later.

So once again I find myself in the position of asking, “Does prayer even matter?”.

When it’s not your kid you can think of all kinds of lofty, theologically correct arguments or reasons for why God answers one prayer and not another–for why one person is healed and not another–for why one person survives a devastating-should-have-killed-him accident but not another.

But when it is your child that doesn’t survive or isn’t healed or is stolen through the violent actions of someone else…well, that’s a different matter entirely.

Read the rest here: The Problem of [Un]Answered Prayer

Navigating Grief: Appropriate God’s Strength

My friend and fellow bereaved mom, Margaret Franklin, Ryan’s mom, shared a beautiful Dutch word with me “Sterkte” (pronounced STAIRK-tah).

It literally translates “strength” or “power” but culturally means much more. It means bravery, strength, fortitude and endurance in the face of fear and insumountable odds through the empowering strength of God in me.

Not MY strength, but HIS.

Read the rest here: Trust After Loss: Appropriate God’s Strength

Navigating Grief: Access the Truth

I have loved Scripture as long as I can remember. When I was in second grade I got the notion to read the whole Bible straight through-in the King James Version. I made it to Leviticus before I threw in the towel.

By the time my kids were grown I had read and studied Scripture for decades.

But three years before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I realized my reading had become rote-I felt like I “knew” all the stories. So I slowed my study to a crawl-only one chapter a day-and I usually copied the whole chapter plus my notes into a journal. I had just finished this time through the Bible in January before Dom was killed in April.

And all that truth stored in my mind and heart was what I “read” for months when my eyes were too full of tears to see print on a page.

Many verses stung-some still do-but I was committed to bathe my broken heart in what I knew was true. I would take it like medicine, even when it tasted awful. I knew-in the end-it was my only hope for help.

It’s easy when doubt creeps in to let my heart hold onto it-even in the face of Truth that puts the doubt to rest.

But if all I do is question, question, question and never still my soul to receive God’s answers or His comfort, then I will simply run out of oxygen and faith.

Read the rest here: Trust After Loss: Access the Truth

Navigating Grief: Acknowledge Doubt and Ask Questions

Grief forces me to walk Relentlessly Forward even when I long to go back.

I can’t stop the clock or the sun or the days rolling by.

Those of us who are more than a couple months along in this journey (or any journey that involves tragedy and loss) know that it is ABSOLUTELY POSSIBLE to feel worse than in the first few days.

Because as the edges of the fog lift and the reality of an entire lifetime looms before you the questions form and the doubt sinks in:

Where ARE You God?

Why don’t You DO something?

Are You even LISTENING?

So many of us who have been in church for a long time think that Wrestling With God or entertaining doubt is sin-or, at best- unhealthy and proof of a weak faith.

Read the rest here: Trust After Loss: Acknowledge Doubt and Ask Questions

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