You are not going crazy because you can’t remember your best friend’s name.
You haven’t lost your mind because you can’t find your car keys, or the purse you put them in, or get lost in a store.
It’s grief brain.
And it’s a real thing….
Read the rest here: Grief Brain: It’s a Real Thing!
I’ve been sick the past couple days.
Nothing serious, just a bad cold but the fever, stuffy nose and body aches make everything
So.
Much.
Harder.
And it has reminded me why people flock to the doctor’s office or urgent care clinics on day 5 begging for a pill or shot or SOMETHING that will make them feel better. Trouble is, viral colds can’t be cured by antibiotics.
But lots of folks refuse to believe that.
The only thing to do for the common cold is to treat the symptoms-drink fluids, get plenty of rest, eat healthy food and take vitamins or over the counter medications.
In other words-slow down, pay attention to what my body needs and take care of myself.
This rotten cold reminds me that on day 1,134 since Dominic left us, I wish there was a pill or a shot or SOMETHING that could make the pain and heartache of child loss go away. Trouble is, the only cure for missing my son is to hold him again.
But that won’t happen this side of heaven.
So the only thing I can do in the meanwhile is to acknowledge the pain, give myself space and time to do the work grief requires and choose to speak truth to my heart so that it can hold on until Jesus calls me home or He returns.
In other words-slow down, pay attention to what my body, soul and spirit need and take care of myself.
I’m not always the best patient when it comes to colds and sometimes I’m not willing to take my own good advice when it comes to grief.
I’m often tempted to ignore my need for rest. I try to push harder, move faster, go further but it always ends badly.
This Valley is long and I want to finish well.
I’m going to try to be better at doing what it takes to make that happen.
My parents live in another state so I call each morning just to check in and say hello.
We usually chat about what we have planned for the day, what we did the day before and share any important family updates.
Yesterday my dad mentioned that he had been to the grocery store, came home and when putting away the food he bought decided to clean out his refrigerator. He joked that he found some things from years ago tucked in the back where they’d been forgotten.
I laughed and said, “Yeah-I did that sometime last summer.”
And then my heart froze as I remembered another fridge I cleaned out three years ago.
I went on to say, “I threw out all the old stuff except what I took out of Dom’s fridge when we cleaned his apartment.”
And then the tears broke loose.
I don’t know if it was Mother’s Day “hangover” or something else.
The full weight of the FACT that my son will never share a meal with me again, that the jars of food I saved still had his fingerprints on them, and that it is oh, so, so WRONG I had to clean out his apartment to begin with just fell on top of me and crushed my ability to stop the tears.
Papa asked me what was going through my head.
I told him I was thinking no mother should ever be saving old jars of pickles and jelly as some kind of keepsake of her child. That this is a terrible burden and that even three years later it is just as heavy-although I am better able to carry it.
I am still surprised sometimes by what opens the floodgates.
I won’t be tossing those jars anytime soon.
I need to remind myself of this every few days.
I’ve mentioned it before.
I’ve encouraged others not to resist.
But I want to be absolutely clear: Losing my son made me doubt EVERYTHING.
Read the rest here: He Will Hold Me Fast
There are many burdens bereaved parents bear in addition to the heaviness of living with child loss.
Some had unfinished business,
some were estranged,
some had harsh words
or no words at all before their child left them.
And some are oh, so afraid that the child that made a sincere profession of faith in Christ might not be in heaven because he or she was living outside the will of God when they died.
I can’t offer words to undo or soothe some of the other burdens, but I can offer hope from the Word of God to assure any parent afraid for the eternal salvation of their child that he or she is safely Home.
If your child made a genuine profession of faith in Christ, then no single impulsive decision or even a series of bad choices, can undo what God has done for him or her through the blood of Jesus.
If Satan is not strong enough to snatch us from God’s hand, our feeble human choices are certainly not strong enough!
Jesus declared those whom the Father had given Him could in no way be snatched from His hand:
28 And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.
29 My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand.
30 I and my Father are one.
John 10:28-30 KJV
The circumstances of a child’s death do not negate his or her profession of faith in the blood of Christ Jesus!
42 Then he [the repentent thief on the cross] said, “Jesus, remember me when you enter your kingdom.”
43 He said, “Don’t worry, I will. Today you will join me in paradise.”
Luke 22: 42-43 MSG
I realize that various denominational traditions teach different things, but I am utterly convinced that it is God Himself Who calls, Who saves, Who keeps and Who is keeping at this moment our precious children who put their trust in Jesus:
For it is by grace [God’s remarkable compassion and favor drawing you to Christ] that you have been saved [actually delivered from judgment and given eternal life] through faith. And this [salvation] is not of yourselves [not through your own effort], but it is the [undeserved, gracious] gift of God;
Ephesians 2:8 AMP
I also rest satisfied that He Who began a good work in our children is faithful to complete it. If salvation depended on our good works, or our own faithfulness-ALL of us would be lost.
We are hid in Christ. His righteousness (and HIS alone) is our righteousness.
For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.
Colossians 3:3 KJV
Our sins are flung as far as the east is from the west. They are hid behind God’s back-unviewable (have you ever tried to see something on the small of your back-without a mirror?):
Dominic was not at the height of his Bible-toting, church-going, praise-song-singing days when he left us. He was an adult student in law school, living in his own apartment and making his own choices. He made some I didn’t like. But that doesn’t change the FACT that he belonged (and STILL belongs) to Jesus.
Your child who trusted Jesus is safe, dear parent.
He is in his really, truly Home.
One day there will be great joy when we are reunited. Until then, we rely on the promises of God in Christ to see us through.
I pray for every parent reading that God overwhelms your hurting heart with His love, grace and mercy and assures you of His faithfulness.
And may He give you strength for each new day.
❤ Melanie
I realized after I wrote about the recent incident where someone plagiarized my blog there was a good deal of confusion about HOW to share it appropriately.
I wanted to clear up the confusion. So here’s how to do it:
I also post the blog on several closed bereaved parents’ sites on Facebook.
If that’s where you see it, please click on the link and share from the blog itself to protect the privacy of those sites and the people who belong to them.
A great way to be sure you never miss a post is to sign up to receive blog posts in your email. Just click on the “follow blog via email” button on the right hand side of any blog post.
You get the whole post-not just a link that makes you click through. That’s an easy, fast way to get it every morning without having to get on Facebook. You can forward the email to friends if you like.
Really the only way NOT to share the blog is by copying and pasting the content and then posting it as your own.
I love, love, love when I get feedback from another bereaved parent that says what I’ve written is what they feel or have experienced. Not because I wish this pain on a single soul, but because I know others share my pain and I am thankful that sometimes MY words help them put THEIR feelings into a form they can share with others.
So, if a particular post is helpful to you-please DO SHARE. ❤
I miss Dominic. I will always miss him. Our table will never be full no matter how many others come to sit round its edges.
BUT-I will not rob my living children of my heart because part of it lives in Heaven.
I wrote this for the three children that still walk the earth with me.
You made me a mother, along with Dominic, and I celebrate each one of you as a gift from God.
Read the rest here: A Letter To My Living Children*
I didn’t know last year that there was an International Bereaved Mother’s Day celebrated the Sunday BEFORE the U.S. Mother’s Day.
I hope that my bereaved mother friends took advantage of that day to think about and honor their missing child(ren).
But we still have to make it through tomorrow. And that can be very challenging.
I wrote this last year: Mother’s Day as a Bereaved Mother
So, more than twenty years on a farm and I can NOT back a trailer. Nope. Can’t do it.
One day I spent hours trying to teach myself how to do it. Never was able to do anything other than manage to jackknife the trailer, go unhook it and start over.
When I go somewhere with a trailer I do one of two things: (1) I find a space where I can drive in and be able to just make a loop or (2) I find the nearest person who CAN back a trailer, hand them my keys and ask them to do it.
I feel NO shame.
But that’s not the case with other things I can’t do. So many times I try to avoid admitting that I am unable to meet certain people’s expectations or do certain things that I either used to be able to do or feel I SHOULD be able to do.
I think the reason I don’t mind outing myself on trailers is because that confession usually gets a laugh or a knowing look from the person who helps me or an admission from someone standing near at the feed store that they also have trouble backing up a trailer.
But when I say, “I just don’t think I’m up to teaching VBS” or “I’d love to come to that event but I’ve reached my social quota this week” or “I’m still struggling with driving by that spot or eating at that restaurant” it’s often met with (at best) a quizzical look or (at worst) a comment about how I should be “better” by now.
And then I DO feel shamed. I feel like I don’t measure up, like I’m not as valuable as the next person or that I have failed some cosmic test.
You know what though? That’s a reflection on other people’s lack of compassion and experience or their personal insecurity NOT a reflection of my worth.
It is really just fine for me to admit my limitations because EVERYONE has limitations.
I can’t lift a 250 lb barbell. But I can whip up dinner for fifty people. I can’t read Chinese but I can read Dr. Seuss with an accent and hit all the rhymes on cue. I can’t run a marathon but I can work all day without complaining (most of the time).
I’m human (surprise!). So are you.
I have some limitations as a result of burying a child. You may have limitations because of age or disease or something else I don’t know about or can’t see.
That’s OK.
Let’s make a pact: I’ll take you as you are and you can take me as I am. I’ll help you when you need help and you can help me when I need help.
We will extend grace and receive grace as needed to make life work.
Isn’t that really the essence of human community?
Some days I go gangbusters-rip through my “To Do” list from top to bottom before lunchtime.
And some days I can barely get up out of the chair in the morning for a second cup of coffee.
It depends.
Most times I have no idea what throws me into a tailspin.
Oh, I’m prepared for the “circle the date on the calendar days” like Mother’s Day (coming up!), Dominic’s birthday, his heaven day and the holidays. But there are random, not-special-occasion-days that plunge my head under a grief wave that I did not see coming.
Maybe it’s the smell of cut grass through an open window or the sound of a motorcycle thrumming at the end of our lane or the sight of trees full of leaves (again-another season he isn’t here). I really don’t know.
The drowning feeling may last five minutes or five hours. All I can do is go with it and hope the wave spits me out sooner rather than later.
And they DO pass.
My heart is always tender, always aware of missing Dominic. But it is better able to join in laughter and celebration than it was even six months ago.
I no longer feel as if I am drowning every moment of every day with only a gasp of air now and then.
Instead I feel like I’m swimming-tired and often out of-sight of shore-but managing most of the time to keep my head above water.
Grief waves come. They will always come. I have to endure the choking, sputtering, frightening, drowning feeling when they do.
But they are not the only thing I feel now.
And for that, I am very grateful.
thelifeididntchoose 