In honor of Father’s Day tomorrow, I’m reposting this blog from a few months ago.
It’s true that there is a lopsided representation of mothers’ points of view in the child loss community. But much of that is a function of the (very general) tendency of women (as a group) to be more vocal about their feelings than men (as a group).
I hope more bereaved dads will take up the mantle and make their voices heard. So many broken hearts need to know they are not alone. ❤
I’ve gotten a similar comment from two different bereaved fathers in the past two days.
It goes something like this, “I’m offended by the implication (one was in a meme, another was a reader comment) that mothers grieve more than dads”.
I appreciate the comments even though I disagreed with the interpretation these men gave to what was actually stated.
I responded by saying that since I am a mother-not a father-I write from my own perspective. I don’t try to fit my shoes on anyone else’s feet.
Read the rest here: Fathers Grieve Too
I have been guilty of this more times than I ‘d like to admit.
I assume someone else’s feelings mirror my own and act on that assumption by withdrawing or not showing up or “giving them space”.
But the problem is, most times, on reflection, I realize my action (or inaction) was really all about sparing my own feelings or staying within my own comfort zone.
The heart is deceitful above all things
and beyond cure.
Who can understand it?
~Jeremiah 17:9 NIV
So I’m learning to ask hard questions.
Read the rest here: Ask Me, Please.
Before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I would not have described myself as “anxious”.
Of course I had my moments, but anxiety ,panic or worry was not really something I experienced on a regular basis.
Now I sometimes have to close my eyes when a family member is driving in traffic. I clench my fists when in a crowd. I can’t concentrate if too many people are talking at once and I cannot navigate unfamiliar roads while the radio is blaring.
Dominic’s sudden death destroyed my sense of safety and control.
If my son could be healthy and alive one moment and dead the next, anything could happen.
It doesn’t matter if you agree with me or not, the anxiety I experience is very real and often debilitating.
What makes it worse is when friends and family minimize my feelings, mock my fear or dismiss it as foolish and stupid.
What helps is when friends and family choose to acknowledge my feelings and commit to compassionate companionship while I work through them.
There’s a kind of relational magic that happens when people who have experienced the same or similar struggle get together.
In an instant, their hearts are bound in mutual understanding as they look one to another and say, “Me too. I thought I was the only one.”
It was well into the second year after Dominic ran ahead to heaven that I found an online bereaved parent support group. After bearing this burden alone for so many months, it took awhile before I could open my heart to strangers and share more than the outline of my story.
But, oh, when I did! What relief! What beautiful support and affirmation that every. single. thing. that was happening to me and that I was feeling was normal!
Read the rest here: What I’m Learning From Other Bereaved Parents
I first shared this in 2014 not quite a month after Dominic ran ahead to heaven.
His leaving has made me much more aware that what we read as “stories”where we can turn to the last page and know the ending, others lived in real time, with no ability to fast forward to the ending.
Read the rest here: Barefoot Over Broken Ground
There may be some mamas that don’t drill this into their children but if there are, they don’t live south of the Mason-Dixon line.
Every time there was back and forth in the back seat or on the front porch and Mama overheard, we were told, “If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”
Parents weren’t interested in policing every errant word out of the under 18 crowd’s mouth back in the day.
It was a simple (and effective!) rule: If what you want to say does not meet the criteria of T.H.I.N. K. (true, helpful, inspiring, necessary, kind) then
Read the rest here: If You Can’t Say Anything Nice….
The news goes out over Facebook, over phone lines, over prayer chains and everyone shows up.
Crowds in the kitchen, in the living room, spilling onto the lawn.
It’s what you do.
And it’s actually the easiest part. Lots of people, lots of talking, lots of activity keep the atmosphere focused on the deceased and the family. The conversation rarely dips to deeper waters or digs into harder ground: “Where was God?”; “Why him?”; “Why do ‘bad’ things happen to ‘good’ people?”
But eventually the busyness and noise gives way to stillness and silence.
That’s when the harder part starts.
Read the rest here: Why Do We Turn Away?