Tag: bereaved parents month

Keeping It Real: It’s STILL Hard

When I started writing, Dominic had been gone nearly 18 months.  

Before I went public with my thoughts, I had filled six journals with page after page of ramblings, Scripture, quotes from books, questions and tears.  

Those are some of my most precious possessions because when I look back I can see how even in the very first hours (yes, I started writing that morning) God was already bringing truth and healing to my shattered soul and broken heart.  

In a couple months it will be three years since I started sharing here.  And while I rarely look back on the posts in any orderly way, I can see that God has continued His faithfulness when I do.

But just like I promised when I wrote the introduction to my site, I will always be as honest as possible when I share.  

So let me just tell you:  It’s STILL hard.  

Not in the same first, breath-robbing, soul-crushing, can’t-lift-my-head sort of way that makes a heart certain it can. not. survive.

But in a slow-leak, not-enough-air-in-my-tires sort of way that makes every road less comfortable to travel and necessitates lots of stops to make sure I can keep going.

I’ve just endured two weeks of one bad thing after another.  

All of them have a solution which (on my scale) makes them hardly worth noting.  

But each disrupted my life and will require significant time, energy and resources to address.  

And for a heart that has learned how to make it by going slow, choosing predictable paths and incorporating lots of stops along the way, those kinds of disruptions create stress and strain on an already taxed system. 

I will absolutely survive.  

I’ve already survived the cruelest and most difficult days of my life.  

But it’s no cake walk.  

It’s still hard.

track record for bad days is 100

 

Repost: Fault Lines: Bereaved Parents and Social Anxiety

Even at four years into this journey, I can surprise myself when, for no apparent reason, grief explodes from someplace deep within me.  

I’m keyed into triggers-sights, smells, places and people that remind me of Dominic.

But sometimes I can’t figure out what causes the tears to fall or my stomach to be tied in knots.  

It seems to happen most often when I’m in social situations.  I feel surrounded, trapped and anxiety mounts. 

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.

Many of us are nearly ready to blow almost every single minute, yet hold it in and hold it together.  If you could put a meter to our temple and measure how close we are to a come apart, you would be amazed that it happens so rarely!

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

Bereaved Parents Month Post: Why Do Friends Abandon Grievers?

I wrote this a few months ago because it is an issue every grieving parent faces:  Why do friends abandon us?

Truth be told, many of us abandoned others prior to our own bereavement for some of the same reasons.

It is really hard to hang in and hang on when a friend is going through such a hard time.  Understanding why my friends might pull away helps me extend grace.  ❤

It happens in all kinds of ways.  One friend just slowly backs off from liking posts on Facebook, waves at a distance from across the sanctuary, stops texting to check up on me.

Another observes complete radio silence as soon as she walks away from the graveside. 

Still another hangs in for a few weeks-calls, texts, even invites me to lunch until I can see in her eyes that my lack of “progress” is making her uneasy.  Then she, too, falls off the grid.

Why do people do that? 

Read the rest here:  Why Friends Abandon Grievers

You’re Allowed to be Sad

We shouldn’t need a reminder, but we do.  

The world is so busy telling us to “just do it” or “put on a happy face” or “think positive” that we begin to wonder if maybe we’ve got this grieving thing all wrong.  

We don’t.

There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with being sad your child is not here.

Nothing.

Not. One. Thing.

❤

you're allowed to be sad

Overcome, Overwhelmed and Undone

The past seven days have been anything but the lazy, hazy days of summer. 

There has not been a solid 24 hours where some kind of crisis didn’t find its way to my doorstep, across my driveway or into my living room.  

Seriously.  

tree on driveway edited

On a scale of one to ten, none actually rank high in that there’s not a solution or plan of action. 

But every single one of them raised my stress and anxiety to very uncomfortable heights.  

I have no idea why I keep thinking maybe-just maybe-there will be a season of rest when I can get my feet under me, get my mind settled (a bit) and get the laundry put away.

There are good days.  

But then there are bad ones right on their heels.

I’m 54 years old, raised and home educated four children, helped my husband with his career and a personal business, managed a small farm and cooked, cleaned and was the all around go-fer for my family while each one pursued his or her education and dreams.

But there has been no season as stress-filled and trying as this one: the season of grief, the season of missing, the season where I have had to admit that control is an illusion.

So many days I watch the sunset in defeat.

Overcome, overwhelmed and undone.

I know the new day will bring new mercies and that is how my heart holds onto hope. 

lamentations-3-22-23

Bereaved Parents Month Post: Have I Lost My Mind?

Here I am four years into this journey and I still have days when I think I have utterly lost my mind.  

Not because of internal cues but because of external pressure by family and friends to conform to some idea THEY have of what grief after child loss should look like.

I have to remind myself that they have NO IDEA what this is like and that if I am managing to move along-even at a snail’s pace-I’m just fine.

I wrote this a couple years ago in response to a private message sent to me by a friend:

“It was just over a year after Dominic’s accident and a friend forwarded an article about odd behaviors of those who were “stuck’ in grief.  Along with the forward was a little tag, “Reminds me of you.”

It hurt my feelings.

And it was inappropriate.”

Read the rest here:  I am NOT Crazy!

All The Color Gone

Pale.  Flat. Tasteless. 

Yes.

They’d crossed over to that continent where grieving parents lived. It looked the same as the rest of the world, but wasn’t. Colors bled pale. Music was just notes. Books no longer transported or comforted, not fully. Never again. Food was nutrition, little more. Breaths were sighs. And they knew something the rest didn’t. They knew how lucky the rest of the world was.

― Louise Penny

It was absolutely this way for more than the first three years.  

No matter how hard I WILLED it, I could not make my world any different than it was. 

But thankfully, slowly, the color has returned-dimmer still-but no longer only shades of gray. 

Music again touches my heart and the right words do bring comfort.

Sighing remains my second language.

And I still think how very blessed are those who have been spared this awful knowledge.  

❤

 

 

Taking Care: Ten Ways to Survive Hard Grief Days

My hardest grief season begins in November and runs to the end of May.  Thanksgiving through Dominic’s birthday on (or near) Memorial Day are days full of triggers, memories and stark reminders that one of us is missing.

If I could fall asleep November first and wake up in June I’d do it.

But I can’t so I have to employ all the tricks I’ve learned in the nearly four years since Dominic ran ahead to heaven to survive those particularly challenging months.

Here are ten ways I survive hard grief days:

1.  I make lists of things to do.  I’ve found that if I don’t make a plan for each day it’s far too easy to just lie around and feel sorry for myself.  I use index cards but whatever works for you is fine.  I list household chores, phone calls to make or notes to write, exercise, errands or whatever.  And then I consider them non-negotiable.  These are my marching orders and after my morning coffee I start down the list.

2.  I do something creative.  I crochet or arrange flowers or sew a little.  Taking just five or ten minutes to make something beautiful changes my perspective.  I have a can opener that takes the lids off without sharp edges and I make magnets for friends and family members or just to have on hand for a little gift.

3.  I take a walk.  I am thankful I can go outside on my own property and enjoy fresh air and country sunshine.  I know not everyone has that option.  But even a walk inside your office building or up and down a couple flights of stairs gets the blood pumping and releases endorphins.  If I can’t walk, then I at least change my physical position-from sitting to standing, from standing to moving.  Body position impacts my emotions.

melanie feet crocs and driveway step

4.  I find something to make me smile.  There is scientific evidence to back our common sense experience that smiling lightens our mood and helps our hearts.  I read jokes or check out some of my Facebook friends that tend to post funny memes or stories.  Sometimes I just “practice” a smile and even that can send feel-good hormones surging through my system.

paco face (2)
“Don’t try to win over the haters, you are not a jackass whisperer.” ~ Brene Brow

5.  I call or text a friend.  Sometimes I just need to know that someone else is aware of my hard day. No one can undo my grief but when I feel there is a witness, it lightens the load somehow.friends pick us up6.  I stay off Facebook and other social media platforms.  I love that I’m able to keep in touch with friends and family via social media.  But it can be full of drama and negativity as well.  So if I’m having a tough day, I remove the potential for it to be made harder due to random comments, posts or photographs.

Styled Stock Photography7.   I pet my cats.  I have always been an animal lover.  But I truly do not know how I could have survived these past four years without the companionship of my cats and other furry friends.  Study after study confirms that being in the presence of pets lowers blood pressure and calms nerves. 

hand-coffee-roosevelt

8.  I go with my feelings.  There is no rule book that says I have to be tough and hide my tears.  If I’m having a hard grief day it is perfectly acceptable to let the sorrow wash over me and let the tears fall.  Sometimes fighting the feelings only prolongs my pain.  Often a good cry is cleansing and I am much better afterwards.

sometimes you can hurt yourself more by keeping feelings hidden9.  I journal.  There are things I need to “say” that are better kept between me, God and my notebook.  I have kept a journal for nearly three decades.  Many times just writing out my feelings, my fears, my thoughts and my frustrations is enough to take the sting out.  There’s something about not keeping it all bottled up inside-even if no other soul reads it-that acts as a catharsis.

10.  I copy encouraging quotes or Scripture and hang them prominent places throughout the house.  I have notes tacked to my bed post, on my bathroom mirror, taped to the cabinet next to my stove, stuck on the fridge, slid into my wallet in my purse-absolutely everywhere.  Because when my heart is hanging on by a thread, the smallest bit of encouragement is often enough to help me hold onto hope.

None of these things undo my grief in the most basic sense.

Dominic is gone, gone, gone and I will not see him or hear his voice until we are reunited in the Presence of our Savior.

But they DO help.

One of the most devastating aspects of child loss is the overwhelming sense that NOTHING makes sense anymore and that I have absolutely NO control.

Choosing helpful habits and actions gives me a way to regain dominion over a tiny corner of my world.

And that little bit of action strengthens my spirit and helps my heart hold on.

remember to take care of yourself you cant pour from an empty cup

 

 

 

Bereaved Parents Month: Courage is a Heart Word

You know what breaks my heart all over again?  

The fact that so many bereaved parents tell me they don’t feel they can share their experience on their own FaceBook or other social media pages.  

That’s just WRONG!

They have been shushed to silent suffering because when they break open the vault of emotions and let others see what’s inside, most people turn away-or worse, they condemn that wounded heart for sharing.  

SHAME on you if you are one of those people.  

I’ve written about this before here:

In recent years we have dragged many topics into the light.  We’ve made space in the public square for discussion of things we used to pretend didn’t exist.

But life after child loss is still a hushed topic.

The long road to healing after burying a child is rarely acknowledged outside the community of bereaved parents.

We have splashed all kinds of garbage across the Internet because in one way or another it makes us feel good (yep, admit it-it feeds some place in your soul) but we will not tolerate someone being utterly honest about how impossibly hard some things are to bear in this life.

Because THAT makes us uncomfortable.

Not every hurting heart is brave enough to risk negative public opinion.  I understand that completely.  This post is not for THEM, it’s for the hundreds and thousands who want to shut them down and shut them out.

This may be for you, if you have ever scrolled past a plaintive post or made some glib comment like, “God has a purpose in this for you” or worse, written a private message scolding someone and telling them they are begging for attention, refusing to “move on” or hanging on to hurt.

Think for one minute-literally 60 full seconds-how it would feel to hold the cold hand of your dead child, bury your child, go home to his empty room and then live the rest. of. your. life. without the earthly companionship of the child of your heart.  

Then think again about censoring your friend who’s grieving.  

Instead, speak courage to his or her heart.  

Strengthen their hold on hope don’t destroy it. 

Courage is a heart word. The root of the word courage is cor – the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage meant “To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.” Over time, this definition has changed, and today, we typically associate courage with heroic and brave deeds. But in my opinion, this definition fails to recognize the inner strength and level of commitment required for us to actually speak honestly and openly about who we are and about our experiences — good and bad.

~Brene Brown

Repost: Bereaved Parents Month

Before Dominic ran ahead to heaven I knew only a handful of bereaved parents, all of whom I met after their bereavement.

I had never walked with anyone through this Valley.

Now I am friends with dozens of them and there are hundreds more I “know” online through private groups and blogs.

Until this was MY life, I would have dismissed “Bereaved Parents Month” as another random and narrowly applicable declaration by some group trying to muster support for their own agenda.

Read the rest here:  Bereaved Parents Month