Tag: child loss

It’s Alright To Be Little Bitty

I was recently told by someone that my world was tiny.

It hurt my heart.

Not because it is factually inaccurate but because the person who said it implied that distance traveled from my front door equaled responsibility and influence. If I don’t wander hither and yon, then I’m inferior. If I don’t have paid employment then whatever I do doesn’t “really” count.

I know many bereaved parents have been forced to scale back commitments, maybe change jobs or retire early, and, like me, lead a smaller life than before.

I’m here to tell you that’s perfectly OK.

In fact, if you are faithfully leading the life to which God has called you, it’s MORE than OK.

May be an image of text that says 'MAYBE YOUR GREAT PURPOSE FOR GOD iS Το LiVE A QUIET, PEACEFUL LiFE; LOVING YOUR FAMILY, AND BEING KiND AND COMPASSIONATE Το EVERYONE yoU MEET. @Love, the Only Thing He has shown you, o mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8'

It’s true that more days than not I never get farther than the quarter mile down my driveway.

But inside my home, behind my computer screen and through the magic of the Internet I regularly chat with folks from Australia to South Africa. I read news from around the world. I keep up with relatives all over the country.

And in my modest kitchen I prep and cook meals for my family as well as others in my community who might need them. I counsel friends struggling with loss or trying to companion someone struggling with loss. I moderate two closed groups for bereaved parents where they can safely share and seek support. I maintain three public Facebook pages-one for my church, one for bereaved parents and one with a more personal Biblical focus.

I write a blog.

It is absolutely correct that I receive no remuneration for any of this. So by worldly standards (and by the standards of the person who made the remark) these things are of small value. Because, after all, we know that if something’s free it must not be worth anything.

But that is simply not true!

Each of us (bereaved or not) has a unique circle of influence, a unique set of skills, a unique personality and ability to connect with those God brings across our paths. Some of us get paid for using them. Some of us don’t.

Regardless of how far-reaching your influence is, it is important.

It’s perfectly alright to be little bitty.

Do your thing, your way, right where you are.

And ignore those who can’t appreciate how beautifully your light shines.

Dance When You Can

I don’t know about you, but sometimes cute little memes intended to help me “look on the bright side” fly all over me.

Sure, if life gives you lemons (bad hair day, late to work, long line at the grocery store) make lemonade.

But sometimes it’s not lemons life gives you, it’s an avalanche of pain, heartache and world-shattering awful.

Read the rest here: Distant Music

I Cannot Hide the Ugly

I keep asking God to fill me with His love, mercy and grace.  And I am more full of those things than before.

But there is still plenty of (if not hate then) less-than-love, judgement and impatience. Trials don’t automatically lead to refinement or stronger faith.

Tribulation can drive someone away from God as easily as it can drive them to their knees.

If I’m not careful-if I’m not very careful-I can use my pain as an excuse for all kinds of bad behavior.

Read the rest here: Can’t Hide the Ugly

Love Is Why I Grieve

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them.

James O’Barr

I grieve because I love.

My tears are a gift to the son I miss.  My sorrow honors his memory.  My broken heart gives evidence to the ones walking with me that my love is fierce and timeless.

Read the rest here: Love: The Reason I Grieve

Not As Good As I Once Was

When Dominic first ran ahead to Heaven I resisted having any kind of calendar visible. I didn’t want to mark time passing without him to pass it with me.

I’ve since resumed my yearly ritual of hanging the big blank picture calendar in my kitchen-the only way I really know how to keep up with doctor appointments, family visits, birthdays and other important dates in spite of technology.

I don’t know about you, but days turn into weeks turn into months almost faster than I can count them. Even during this pandemic pause or craziness or whatever you want to call it, life goes on.

I’ve been busy but not overwhelmed (most of the time!). I’ve tried to tackle some home projects that had been neglected, organize things, take a few trips here and there to visit family and (did I mention?) get our ducks in a row for my husband’s retirement.

I’ve often written that grief doesn’t only change the way I think about the past but it also changes the way I experience the present.

And while I’ve gotten oh, so much better, at pacing myself, granting myself grace for milestone days and simply saying “no” to extra demands, I still find that having a hole in my heart shapes how I approach even the most mundane tasks.

I’ve had to make a lot of phone calls lately-tying up loose ends, getting new healthcare lined up, making yearly doctor appointments, getting dental work done (which I hate!). Long minutes on hold still-STILL!-make me feel trapped and out of control, even when I put the phone on speaker. Repeating myself over and over to the “next available representative” echoes the many times I had to tell of Dom’s demise when I made all the necessary calls to people with whom he did business.

It’s funny where your mind goes when forced to sit and wait.

Some days I’m just done by lunchtime. Even though there is a lot of day left in the day I am out of steam for taking advantage of it.

I’m learning to prioritize and knock out pressing tasks earlier rather than later and leave the rest until tomorrow.

Trouble is, the tomorrows are adding up and piling on.

I’m not sure there are enough days left in this year to get them all done.

I used to be a dynamo-regularly squeezing two days’ work into one. Now I don’t think I ever get a full days’ worth out of my waking hours. My writing has suffered since it’s something I only do well when I feel rested and caught up on other chores.

I’m not the person I was before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. I’m slower, less organized and definitely undermotivated.

The calendar accuses me of how little progress I’ve made.

Maybe I’ll take it down again.

A List of What Helps and What Hurts

I originally shared this post when I was only a bit past two years into life after loss. It’s still a pretty good list of what helps and what hurts my heart.

The only thing that I’d say NOW versus THEN is this: Most days are better days (seven years down the road) than hard ones. Oh, there are still terrible, terrible days when grief washes over me like a flood. But many, many days include joy, laughter, a renewed sense of purpose and lots and lots of love.

I’m so thankful for God’s mercy and grace and for His steadfast love. Without that-without Him-I would not have made it this far.

❤ Melanie

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 by 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:

Read the rest here: What Helps and What Hurts

Why Compassionate Companionship Is Such a Gift

Walking beside a hurting heart is hard.

Especially for “fixers”.

We want to DO something, to effect change, to “solve the problem”, to make things better.

But there are circumstances in life that cannot be fixed, changed or solved.

Child loss is one of them.

Read the rest here: Compassionate Companionship Is A Gift

I Really Need To Tell His Story. I Really Need You to Listen.

Every time I tell the story of Dominic, it helps to keep him real.

It reminds my heart that he lived, that he mattered, that he matters still.

And in the telling, I am giving away a little bit of him for another heart to carry. 

His light is passed to another soul that can pass it to another and another.

Read the rest here: Why We Have to Tell Our Stories & Why We Need Someone to Listen

Grief and Holidays 2021-What the Bereaved Need From Family and Friends

Many of us pretty much skipped the holidays last year. That was actually kind of a nice break for some bereaved parents who were rescued from having to navigate family expectations while grieving the loss of a child.

This year looks like a lot of folks aren’t only embracing long-held traditions but also pulling out all the stops to make up for last year’s lackluster celebrations.

So I’d like to simply put this perspective out there.

While others feel liberated, the bereaved are still carrying the same load.

❤ Melanie

I know it is hard.  I know you don’t truly understand how I feel.  You can’t.  It wasn’t your child.

I know I may look and act like I’m “better”.  I know that you would love for things to be like they were:  BEFORE.  But they aren’t.

I know my grief interferes with your plans.  I know it is uncomfortable to make changes in traditions we have observed for years.  But I can’t help it.  I didn’t ask for this to be my life.

I know that every year I seem to need something different.  I know that’s confusing and may be frustrating.  But I’m working this out as I go.  I didn’t get a “how to” manual when I buried my son.  It’s new for me every year too.

Read the rest here: Grief and Holidays:What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family

It is Perfectly OK to Mourn *Smaller* Losses

When your scale of awful is off the charts, there’s a tendency to dismiss anything less as merely inconvenient or inconsequential.

But that’s just not how our hearts work.

You can be shattered by child loss and still feel the slings and arrows of everyday losses, disappointments, discomfort and sadness.

It’s OK to mourn the things that don’t measure up to the pain and despair of burying a child.

Read the rest here: You Are Absolutely Allowed To Mourn *Smaller* Losses