bereaved parent – Page 202 – thelifeididntchoose

Twelve Things I Love to Remember

It rolls around every month-the twelfth-that glaring reminder that on this day “x” number of months ago, I woke to the news Dominic was never coming home again.

This month is 28. Twenty-eight months-more than 28 moon cycles-over two years.

I don’t cry all day on this monthly reminder anymore-although I used to. And I have tried various ways to redeem it.

This month I decided to share twelve things I love to remember about Dominic. Maybe some things even his good friends didn’t know:

Dominic HATED to lose. When he was a little boy we participated in a monthly skate session at a local roller rink. At the end of the skating time (to encourage kids to quickly take off and return their skates) there were foot races broken up by age and gender. Poor Dom-he was built like a gymnast not a runner and he. just. couldn’t. win. EVERY TIME, he’d come stomping off the floor, nearly in tears because he didn’t win. So many things came easily to him but this didn’t and it frustrated him.
Dominic finished his undergraduate degree in three and a half years-double major-graduated Magna Cum Laude and delivered the undergraduate address for his graduation ceremony. I love that he was so goal-oriented and persevered even when it was really hard.

He could subsist on rice and broiled chicken breasts when he was trying to work on muscle definition (he rarely missed a day at the gym) but when he was a little kid he hid candy along the side of his mattress. He remained a sucker for a good sugar binge, especially when stressed during finals.
Dominic was scared of needles. His PCP finally shamed him into getting a needed tetanus shot but he hated it!

He had a weakness for puppies, kittens and kids.

If it had strings, Dominic could play it-mandolin, guitar, bass, banjo. And if you could coax rhythm out of it, he could make it sing. Never silent, never still-always making some kind of music. Boy do I miss that!

Dominic never took “no” for an answer. He would doggedly pursue anything and anyone if he thought it was a valid case or course of action. He had an entire university policy overturned because he was able to demonstrate to the administration that its application was faulty. That’s part of what would have made him a great lawyer…
He was an adrenaline junkie. He was the one that wanted to jump out of an airplane so he did.

As an undergraduate he had a part-time job as a lifeguard at the student recreation center. He loved the job but hated swimming. He was an amazing athlete.
Although he was an excellent orator, he didn’t really talk until he was almost three and had a speech impediment until he was into second grade. You would never have known it if you met him as an older teen or adult.

Oh! Dominic was stubborn! I remember one afternoon when I had given an assignment to draw a leaf in his nature journal. He sat, without drawing, for over an hour because he insisted he couldn’t draw, wouldn’t draw and didn’t see the point in the assignment. I finally caved and said he could trace the leaf. I still have that picture as a testimony to his mulish side.
Dominic had a great sense of humor and nothing was out of bounds if it made someone laugh.

I am so thankful God made me his mama. I love every memory I have. I really wish we could make more…

What Helps and What Hurts

I am committed to continue to trust Jesus and to look to the Word of God for my hope and direction in this life and in the one to come.

I speak truth to my heart through Scripture, worship songs, testimonies of others who have gone before and remaining in community with other believers.

But I’ve yet to reach the place where I can plan on most days being better days rather than hard ones.

I’m trying.

And I’m working to tease out the influences that make a difference-both the ones that help and the ones that hurt.

So here’s the list so far:

WHAT HELPS

Starting the day with Bible reading
Writing out a verse or two that speaks hope to my heart
Listening to worship music
Feeling well-less physical pain translates to an overall sense of well-being
Having a plan for the day-even if it is simple and created in broad strokes, knowing what I plan to do gives me a reason to get up and get going
Seeking companionship with other believers either via Facebook groups, telephone calls, in person get togethers or messaging.
Allowing myself a set time to grieve-cry, pray, lament, or whatever-then moving on with the day
Mixing up physical activity with rest-changing my body position often reorients my attitude.
Striving to get proper sleep, eating good food (not junk and not mindlessly), exercising and stretching.
Crying-if I need to cry I’ve found allowing the tears to fall is much better than fighting them off all day.
Retreating when necessary-if I find a situation is too much for me to handle, I give myself permission to retreat. Most things can be done another day. Sometimes just granting myself permission means I have the courage to press on and face it.
Planning for hard things. If I know I’m going to have to face a hard thing, then I try to plan it. I prepare myself by thinking through (as much as possible) various outcomes. I’m more prepared and usually it goes better than I anticpated.
Not overscheduling my days/weeks-it is harder than it used to be to get going in the mornings so I take that into consideration when making appointments. If I have a busy day on Monday, I will try to make Tuesday open and relaxed. Having space between commitments gives me time to recoup and minimizes anxiety.
Doing as many things via Internet and telephone as possible-I can do needful things even if I’m having a bad day if I don’t have to get dressed and go out to do them.

WHAT HURTS

Neglecting my spiritual life-if I don’t read Scripture, don’t engage with other believers and refuse to acknowledge and thank God for the blessings He still bestows-I can quickly succumb to the dark whispers of the enemy of my soul.
Ignoring physical needs-when I don’t prioritize sleep, good nutrition, adequate exercise and appropriate pain control (for my RA) then sadness is multiplied and it is so much harder to climb out of the pit of despair.
Carrying unnecessary burdens-I cannot MAKE anyone understand the pain and ongoing challenge of child loss. So when people outside my immediate grief circle question my feelings or try to make me conform to their expectations of what grief should look like and how long it should last, I have to shake it off. If it’s an important and ongoing relationship, I try to help them understand but if they choose not to or if it is a tangential relationship, I let it go. I refuse to carry the burden of others’ expectations in addition to the burden of burying my child.
Being ignored-it hurts to be ignored. It hurts when someone asks how I am yet doesn’t allow the space and time for me to answer. It hurts when I answer and they ignore my pain or dismiss it with a story or platitude or Bible verse or just don’t say anything.
Being shamed-it hurts for others to shame me by implying that I am not strong in my faith or not trusting Jesus or not hoping hard enough for heaven when I admit I still struggle in grief and still miss my son.
Disregarding my triggers: There are certain situations that I know will guarantee a breakdown, panic or a crying fit. I avoid them when I can. If I can’t-then I make a plan of escape (just in case).
Being “on display” for others-I am one woman doing the best I can to walk faithfully with Jesus through an unbelievably painful experience. I am not the Author and Finisher of your faith-Jesus is. It hurts when I feel like others are watching to see if I’ll make it, if I’ll say the “wrong” thing, if I’ll admit that I doubt. I want the same freedom others have to grow in my faith and to make mistakes and learn from them. I don’t want to be a “poster child” for anything.
Friends staying away. I know it is hard to be my friend right now. You never know what you might get when you call. But if you ARE my friend, please don’t stay away. Please reach out even when it makes you uncomfortable. A good word at the right moment is often the difference between a very bad and very lonely day and a pretty good and generally hopeful one.
Hiding my sorrow-when I try to pretend I am stronger than I really am or when I try to hide my tears it takes so much energy and makes me so less capable to do the other things life requires.

These are just some of the things that help/hurt me in my journey. I would love to have others share what helps/hurts them in theirs. There’s strength in community.

Leave your thoughts in the COMMENTS below!

Come Sit With Me: How Job’s Comforters Got it Wrong

I want to make sense of the senseless.

I want to draw boundary lines around tragedy so I know what precautions can keep it far away from me.

But God is in control. Not me.

How Job’s comforters got it wrong…

Another Day

I wake and you are still gone.

The cats tap-tap-tapping on my arms and face declare the day has begun despite the dark and I need to climb out of bed.

Why?

What difference does it make?

I trudge downstairs, put the coffee on, feed the cats and settle into my chair to read and write.

Habits.

Routine carries me through the day. There are things that need to be done.

The sun still rises-must be soon now because I hear the rooster’s escalating declaration that he, at least, can see the light.

One cat settles into my lap adding weight and warmth to the morning. I remember when I held you and your brothers and sister. I never tired of that sweet bundle bearing down on my heart.

I would do anything to feel it again.

But that can’t be. And I won’t hold your children either.

All of you was taken away.

Every last molecule, every last gene.

Nothing left but flat photos and memories that are increasingly difficult to piece together in rich detail.

The vital essence that sent shock waves through a room, the loud laugh, the snarky comments, the deep, deep voice that made you sound so serious-all gone.

Heaven is a real place and I know you are there.

But I want you here.

I can’t help it.

All the theological arguments don’t fill the hole in my heart where you are supposed to be.

Shake it off.

Here’s the sun.

Get to it.

Another day.

Prayers I Still Pray, Part II

As I mentioned yesterday, prayer after loss is complicated for me. I wrote a post months ago The Problem of [Un]Answered Prayer that addressed this.

But I AM able to pray Scripture-especially the prayers of Paul, which are centered on asking God to strengthen others and to expand their understanding of His love, compassion, power and grace.

Here are two more that I find helpful:

Philippians 1:9-11

I pray

that ___’s love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight,
that___may be able to discern what is best, and
that____may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ,
that___will be filled with the fruit of righteousness through Jesus Christ-to the glory and praise of God.

Colossians 1:9-12

Father, I pray

that You will fill___with the knowledge of Your will through all spiritual wisdom and understanding,
that___may live a life worthy of You, Lord,
that____may please You in every way,
that___will bear fruit in every good work,
that___will grow in the knowledge of You,
that___will be strengthened with all power according to Your glorious might,
that___may have great endurance and patience,
that___will joyfully give thanks to You, Father, who has qualiied them to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light.

Today by Your Spirit make real all their inheritance in Christ Jesus.

Prayers I Still Pray

Prayer has been difficult for me since burying a child-I’ve written about that struggle in a previous post.

I have yet to find a comprehensible way to think about both the sovereignty of God and His goodness, free will and predestination.

So I find myself incapable of praying for things like safety for my children, freedom from disease or specific outcomes in difficult circumstances.

Instead I pray the prayers of Paul, straight from Scripture-prayers that focus on expanding a person’s understanding of Who God is, how much he or she is loved by God and the development of godly fruit in his or her life.

THESE are prayers I can still pray, I hope they are helpful for others in similar circumstances.

Ephesians 1:17-23

Glorious Father, I thank you for_______, and I bless them. I ask You to give _____the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that ______may know You better. Enlighten the eyes of ______’s heart, so that they may know

the hope to which You have called them,
the riches of Your glorious inheritance in the saints,
And Your incomparably great power for them because they believe, the power of the resurrection and the ascension which seated Jesus at Your right hand where He is above all rule and authority, and power and dominion in this world, and all things are under His feet.

Fill ____with all the fullness of Jesus in every way today.

Ephesians 3:15-20

I call You Father, and I pray

that from Your glorious riches You will strengthen______with power through Your Spirit in their inner being,
that Christ may dwell in ______’s heart through faith,
that ____will be rooted and established in love,
that____may have power, with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,
that ____will know this love that surpasses knowledge,
that___will be filled to the measure of the fullness of God.

I give You all the glory, for You are able to do immeasurably more than all I ask or imagine, according to Your power that is working within us.

Retreat

As a kid our family made a yearly pilgrimage to the Gulf Coast-back when the beaches were wide open vistas, the water see-through green and the days long and unhurried.

We didn’t spend money on the “attractions” or tourist trap souvenir shops-we got up early to watch the sun rise and spent the remainder of the day back and forth between the beach and the water.

I loved to find a spot that was about waist deep and feel the waves move across my body-up and down, up and down-floating in rhythm to the world’s heartbeat.

But every so often a wave would surprise me, crash over my head unannounced and break the cycle of gentle rocking with a sputter-inducing plunge beneath the salty sea.

As long as the giant waves were few and far between, I could recover, regather my sense of well-being and continue to enjoy the water.

But when the first wave marked a change in the tide or an incoming storm and was followed by more and more of the same, I knew it was time to move toward shore.

I could withstand one or two of these but if there was no chance to catch my breath in between I was going under.

This past week has been a deluge of waves.

Waves of grief,

waves of regret,

waves of disappointment,

waves of discouagement.

No storm clouds on the horizon. No major life events or grief anniversaries-just a turning of the tide.

And so I find myself retreating a bit.

Backtracking from progress I thought I had made. Retracing steps and repeating cycles I though I had left behind.

I suspect that most of us have weeks like this.

You don’t have to bury a child to beg Jesus to make things whole again-to bring hope to your heart again-to ask Him to calm the storm and save you from destruction.

Ebb and flow. Waves and calm. Storms and sunshine. Life is made up of all of these.

I am confident that Jesus is the Peace-speaker. He can calm the wind and the waves.

I want to have faith. I want to learn to call out in trust and not doubt.

I’m working on that and waiting for His Spirit to work on it in me.

But as I wait, I’m going to have to sit on shore for awhile.

It Changes Everything

Part of the reason I share my story is to provide insight for people who haven’t lost a child into the hearts and lives of those who have.

But mainly it is to be a voice for and to encourage other parents walking this valley by letting them know they aren’t alone, their feelings and experiences are perfectly normal and that just as welcoming a child into your family is a life-altering event, saying good-bye to a child is a life-altering event.

We do not expect a mom to “get over” the changes having a baby brings to her everyday experience, and we should not expect a bereaved mom to “get over” the changes burying one brings either.

Want to help? Read: Loving the Grieving Heart

Please-Just. Listen.

It’s hard-it’s hard to stay the words that come unbidden to mind and threaten to fly out of your mouth.

It takes restraint. And patience. And wisdom.

But when I finally open my locked box of hurt and pain and memories and heartache-please, please-just listen.

I know better than you that nothing anyone says, or does or hopes to do can change the facts.

Dominic’s not here-he’s there.

And I also know that makes you feel helpless. I feel helpless too.

I’m not looking for pity. I don’t want attention. I have no desire to make you sad.

I have to let it out or I’ll burst. If others saw the fullness of emotions brimming in my heart they would stand amazed that I could push them down and keep them inside so much of the time.

But speaking my sorrow is empowering.

It provides a witness. It means that he matters, that I matter and that this awful reality is recognized by someone other than just me.

When you shut me down or shut me out I. am. crushed.

Again.

In the end, you can walk away. You have another life to go back to. My pain is tangential to the reality of your every day.

It is central to mine.

So, please-encourage my heart with compassionate presence and just listen.

Adjusting to the Darkness

A precious friend sent a small book through the mail just after we buried Dominic. Lament for a Son-the title was enough to draw me in-and the pages ministered to my soul.

Here was someone who, like me, was wailing for what was lost.

Someone who was declaring out loud what my heart harbored in secret: that the darkness of child loss is unrelenting and horrible.

Will my eyes adjust to this darkness? Will I find you in the dark – not in the streaks of light which remain, but in the darkness? Has anyone ever found you there? Did they love what they saw? Did they see love? And are there songs for singing when the light has gone dim? Or in the dark, is it best to wait in silence?
Noon has darkened. As fast as they could say, ‘He’s dead,’ the light dimmed. And where are you in the darkness? I learned to spy you in the light. Here in this darkness, I cannot find you. If I had never looked for you, or looked but never found, I would not feel this pain of your absence. Or is not your absence in which I dwell, but your elusive troubling presence?

Nicholas Wolterstorff, Lament for a Son

I comprehend Wolterstorff’s question-“Will I find you [God] in the dark-not in the streaks of light which remain, but in the darkness?”

I had long followed the light of Christ. Walked boldly even when the light was very dim. Trusted the smallest flicker of a tiny candle of hope when night closed in and began to speak fear to my heart.

But this-this unrelenting, palpable darkness that swallowed any light and even the promise of light-this was new to me.

I understood David’s cry:

“How long, O Eternal One? How long will You forget me? Forever?
How long will You look the other way?

How long must I agonize,
grieving Your absence in my heart every day?”

Psalm 13:1-2a VOICE

But time is helping my eyes adjust to the darkness.

I am learning to feel my way around in this new room, to navigate days that feel more like night.

I know in my heart that this night will not last forever.

I will be able to say:

“But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me.”

Psalm 13:5-6 ESV

God has promised that Jesus is the Light and even this darkness cannot overcome Him.

In the beginning the Word already existed. The Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was already with God in the beginning. Everything came into existence through him. Not one thing that exists was made without him. He was the source of life, and that life was the light for humanity. 5The light shines in the dark, and the dark has never extinguished it.

John 1:1-5 GWT

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