One year ago today I began sharing my grief journey publicly on this blog.
You can read that first post here.
It was (and still is) scary to expose my thoughts and feelings to a wider audience than just the pages of my personal journal.
I’m never certain that what is helpful for me is necessarily helpful for anyone else. But in writing it down I find that I am able to sort through things better than when I leave it bouncing around in my own head space.
I decided upfront that I would be as honest as possible about what I felt and how I was coping. I wasn’t sure if I would post only a few times or a lot, if it would turn into a day-by-day diary or a more sweeping revelation of deeper things.
I think it’s kind of been both at times.
And here we are, 366 days (it was a leap year) and 355 posts later and I’m still here and you’re still listening.
I don’t claim to have any special gifting or knowledge or ability. I am simply one mama whose love for both her child in heaven and her children still here demands that I speak out.
My heart is full of love and pain.
And my heart has been blessed beyond measure by those who read and share what I have written. I’ve met-in person and virtually-many bereaved parents who are helping me as I continue down this road.
I am so very thankful for each one.
I pray that for those who read these words and know the pain of burying a child, I am speaking things you may think or feel but are not willing or able to express.
And I pray that in hearing them spoken aloud, you are affirmed and encouraged that you. are. not. alone.
Your child matters.
It’s not only OK but absolutely necessary to admit that life after child loss is a struggle. It is also just fine to take your time working through the pain and sorrow and overwhelming changes child loss brings.
For those who read my posts and do not share this pain, I pray you gain insight into what bereaved parents feel and how burying a child changes EVERYTHING.
I hope you are better equipped to offer the ongoing support we need and crave. I hope you learn that this is not something we have chosen, it is something that happened to us.
And I pray that all of us will be more willing to extend grace, mercy and love to one another.
Words are not neutral.
They bring life or death.
They wound or heal.
May each of us be an instrument of healing for someone’s hurting heart.