The news goes out over Facebook, over phone lines, over prayer chains and everyone shows up.
Crowds in the kitchen, in the living room, spilling onto the lawn.
It’s what you do.
And it’s actually the easiest part. Lots of people, lots of talking, lots of activity keep the atmosphere focused on the deceased and the family. The conversation rarely dips to deeper waters or digs into harder ground: “Where was God?”; “Why him?”; “Why do ‘bad’ things happen to ‘good’ people?”
But eventually the busyness and noise gives way to stillness and silence.
This is how I like to think of us-together and strong.
Our circle is broken now and it is a continuing struggle to figure out how to navigate life in the wake of our loss.
This time of year is especially challenging as all the lasts leading up the final last come flooding back.
❤
This picture was taken for a story in UAB Magazine featuring my husband and oldest son who graduated together in December 2009. You can read the original article here: Like Father, Like Son
It is one of my very favorites. I was surrounded by my family, filled with pride and promise.
This is how I like to think of us-together and strong.
Our circle is broken now-it is a continuing struggle to figure out how to navigate life in the wake of our loss.
And some of the greatest challenges present themselves in unexpected ways.
One of the things I realized early on this journey was that I did not possess the vocabulary for the deep pain, unbearable sorrow and relentless longing I was experiencing.
So I sought out quotes, fellow travelers and groups of others who shared this awful path.
It helped.
It didn’t take away the pain but it gave me words to express it. It gave me courage to believe I could survive it.
I will never forget those who chose to come back with a torch in the dark and light the way.
❤
There are so many ways to describe grief.
So many ways individual hearts walk this path.
For many of us there’s a sense of being locked in time, stuck in space, unable to leave the moment one received the news or the few days before and after.
It’s maddening that the earth still turns, the sun still rises and people go on with life when in so many ways our world is frozen in place.
Most of the time I share my grief journey in this space, but occasionally I’ve been asked to share in person at retreats or on the air for podcasts.
I’ll be honest, I’m much less comfortable speaking with no chance to edit my remarks versus typing them out and re-reading, rearranging and refining my message.
But when asked by a friend of a friend to meet with Stacy McCants, to have a wide-ranging, honest and God-focused discussion about child loss, grief in general and the intersection of faith and traumatic experience, I said, “yes”.
It was definitely outside my comfort zone.
Stacy helped my on-air jitters by promising to edit out any glaring mistakes or uncomfortable pauses. We sat across the table from one another in his home studio and cover a wide range of topics from loss to the ministry of the Holy Spirit and the importance of Scriptural truth.
It’s REALLY long-slightly over two hours so you might want to download it and listen in small doses.
But if you’ve ever wanted to hear my voice, hear my opinions on a variety of topics or just prefer listening to reading, you might find it interesting.
Traumatic loss rewires your brain as well as your body.
So here I am, nearly eight years into the journey of sudden child loss and I’m reminded once again I am not the same “me” I once was.
Our newest grandbaby made an early entrance into the world nearly two weeks ago and I’m doing Mama D duty with his big brother. It’s a delight to be with my three year old grandson but it’s also challenging for this aging/post trauma brain.
Trying to navigate (super simple) routes to and from the hospital, to and from preschool, and to and from the closest grocery store has led to more than one U-turn and long way around. Sure I could use my phone’s GPS but I keep thinking I’ll finally remember next time.
I should know better by now…
❤ Melanie
I’m looking right at her.
I know her. In fact, I’ve known her for years. But please don’t ask me her name.
I have no idea.
It happens to all of us-meet someone in the store or at the Post Office and you just know you know them, but cannot-for the life of you-remember a name.
Chatting on, you search mental files desperately trying to make a connection you can hold onto. Five minutes after she walks away it pops up-oh, yes! That’s so-and-so from such-and-such.
Imagine if instead of searching mental files without success you can’t even find the file cabinet and start to wonder if one ever existed.
That’s what “grief brain” does to you.
Here are a few more examples of things that actually happened:
I think I will post this link as long as I maintain the blog because I will always be a voice for those whose lives look more like Ash Wednesday than Mardi Gras.
I will continue to speak out for space in our congregations and fellowships that acknowledge life is often hard, often unfair and often more like a broken hallelujah than a high note.
I am not a member of the Church of the Perpetually Cheerful.
I am a member of the Broken Body of Christ, limping through this world, holding on to hope with both hands.
A few decades ago, faulty research methods made popular an inaccurate statistic that a disproportionate number of marriages fail after a couple experiences child loss.
Like many urban legends, once fixed in the minds of many, it’s nearly impossible to dislodge.
And that is more than unfortunate because when marriages falter (and they often do) after child loss, lots of people just give up because they think failure is inevitable.
![Child Loss: The Power of [Context]](https://thelifeididntchoose.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/dominic-is-a-living-breathing-heartbeat-within-my-own-chest.-you-cant-know-me-without-knowing-him.-my-story-my-familys-story-includes-him-even-though-his-physical-presence-is-no-longer-w.png?w=1200)
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