At first everyone talked about him.
It’s what people do just after a person leaves this world and leaves behind only memories.
It comes natural before the unnatural fact of child loss settles in and begins to make everyone uncomfortable.
But at some point after the funeral and way before the tears dried up, people stopped feeling easy mentioning his name.
Read the rest here: Help! My Family Won’t Talk About My Missing Child.
Hey-I get it.
Who wants to air the good, the bad and the ugly for everyone else to see?
In today’s world where photo filters on our cellphone cameras can turn a pretty rotten picture into a magazine worthy masterpiece no one is anxious to be seen as less than polished and put together.
The pressure is on to pretend that all is well even when all is, well, going quite the other direction.
If you are trudging through a tough patch, let folks know.
You might be surprised by who reaches out saying, “That was me just a while ago. Would you like to know how I made it through?”
If you’ve already walked the long and lonely road of grief, loss, trauma, depression or other difficult circumstance-share your story!
Don’t sugar coat it. Don’t clean up the messy bits. Don’t gloss over the hard spots.
How can anyone learn to walk the hard roads, the rocky paths, the treacherous terrain of life unless someone else is willing to be a guide? And who can trust a guide that hasn’t also made that journey?
Tell it like it was.
Then tell it like it is.
Map the path from there to here.
Shine a light for a soul that thinks darkness is all there is.
Reach back and take a hand.
Help a heart hold on to hope.
If you think that time makes a difference to a mama missing a child who ran ahead to Heaven without her, you don’t know as much as you think you know.
Time does not heal all wounds-especially the kind that shatter a heart into a million pieces.
It takes time for the wound to scar over, but it doesn’t undo the damage.
So if you are wondering why your coworker still takes the day off on his child’s birthday or the anniversary of her child’s homegoing, I’ll let you in on a little secret: Years disappear when those milestones loom large.
Read the rest here: It’s Been Years-What’s Wrong With You?
When grief was fresh, the pain was raw and my heart was oh, so tender, I desperately needed a safe space to talk about the nitty-gritty of child loss.
And I found it in online bereaved parents’ groups.
I’m so thankful that they exist, that they are maintained by people who give time and energy to keeping them safe and that-for the most part-participants are kind, compassionate and encouraging.
There is something I’ve noticed now that I’ve been here awhile. Many parents tend to drop out of active participation when they get a little further along in their journey.
Read the rest here: Stick Around: Help Another Heart Hold Onto Hope
At first grief felt only like sorrow and longing and brokenness.
Then it felt like confusion and anxiety and despair.
A little further along this journey it mostly felt like apathy.
Now it feels like love.
It’s the same love that helped me hold on when I was face first in the toilet every morning for seven months. Morning sickness with Dominic lasted nearly the whole pregnancy! With two young children already in our home, it was one of the hardest seasons of my life.
It’s the same love that demanded they bring me my baby when they whisked him away due to “concerns” after birth. Twenty-four hours later, c-section or no c-section, I told the nurse I’d be marching my butt down to the nursery if they didn’t bring him to me right away. (It was a different time-no real “rooming in”.)
It’s the same love that worked with my frustrated little boy to make his words sound clear and correct. Slow down, hit the hard consonants, be precise in how you form your lips. He grew up to give the undergraduate address when he graduated from UAB in front of thousands.
It’s the same love that listened when he told me his troubles, his fears and his dreams. So, so many nights he’d come in, flop down backwards on my bed and proceed to talk until I was just about to drift off to sleep.
It’s the same love that held his hand as people walked by expressing condolences.
It’s the same love that kissed his cold cheek before they lowered the casket lid. Told him, “Good-bye” and walked upright from the sanctuary.
I refused to dishonor his brave life by giving in to my personal fear.
Grief is really just love.
Dominic has been my son since he sat safely in my womb.
He’s still my son.
My love is not diminished because I can no longer touch him.
Love lives.
Forever.
Father God,
I long to be enveloped in the sweet peace and safe cocoon of Your people.
But my heart feels oh, so isolated by this great grief it carries inside!
I take my place in the pew and am distracted by the intact, happy families surrounding me. Every bit of chatter about last week’s activities and this week’s plans reminds me I can no longer whisper a reminder to or share an inside joke with my missing child.
Help me come-broken as I am-and offer what’s left of me to You.
Open my heart and apply the Balm of Gilead to my wounded soul.
Speak courage and comfort to my spirit.
Lead the people You call and assemble to practice compassion and to actively reach out to the ones who struggle just to show up.
Thank You for seeing, hearing and loving me even when I feel unseen, unheard and unloved.
Amen
It’s been over two decades since the Towers fell. Hard to believe-no matter how great the tragedy, life goes on.
Like many, I was watching things as they happened that day.
My husband, an architect and engineer, saw the wobble in the first tower and knew, he knew, it was going to collapse. Horrified I began to understand that whoever was still in that building was running out of time.
And I cried, oh, how I cried. It was awful.
Since then I’ve lived my own tragedy.
My son was unexpectedly and instantly taken from us in an accident.
So when I’m reminded of 9/11 my heart takes me right to those left behind.
And while politicians and pundits can debate the reasons for the attack, can argue about what could have been done, should have been done and why and when-they can never answer the real question in the heart of every family who buried a loved one because of the events of that day.
Why MY husband, wife, daughter, son? How do I make sense of this senseless tragedy?
The answer is, “You can’t.”
You cannot know why one person chose to go this way and lived and another went a different direction and died. It’s impossible to understand the series of events that made someone late for work that day but lead another to show up early.
Last minute travel plan changes saved some from being aboard the fateful planes and put others in a seat.
I can’t know exactly why my son lost control of his motorcycle that night. I will live the rest of my life without an answer to that question.
It’s an ongoing challenge to face the discomfort of things NOT making sense. It goes against human nature to acknowledge that the world is far less predictable than we like to believe.
It takes courage to greet each new day with knowledge that ANYTHING might happen-not only beautiful and wonderful things, but ugly and awful things as well.
If I let my heart dwell on the questions of “why?” and “control”, I am paralyzed, unable to take another step.
There’s no clear path through a world filled with the rubble of broken lives and broken people.
So I turn my heart toward Christ and His promise to never leave or forsake me.
And I am emboldened to take the next step because I know He is already there, even in the dark.
I’m always cautious when I write about suicide. It’s not part of my own lived experience and I never, ever want anyone to think that I am trying to represent those for whom it is.
But I know so, so many parents whose children left this life by suicide and don’t want to shy away from the subject just because I need to be careful in addressing it.
Today is World Suicide Prevention Day.
The name, in itself, is fraught with emotion.
Who doesn’t second guess whether they missed a clue that the person they love is so desperate that suicide seems to be the only way out of their pain? I am loathe to add one iota of guilt or doubt on the heart of a grieving parent!
But I think most folks whose loved one completed suicide would join the host of experts and others who say: Pay Attention! Don’t Be Afraid To Ask Hard Questions! Take Comments About Self-Harm Seriously!
It’s absolutely, positively true that some individuals fall quickly and silently down the pit of despair. There are no tell-tale outward signs warn of their intentions.
Many, though, begin the descent in predictable and observable ways.
So today, in honor of those who are missing someone who is no longer here, take a moment to familiarize yourself with these warning signs.
Commit to reach out and to ask hard questions.
Be an encourager and a hope-speaker.
And light a candle.
For the ones who didn’t make it, for the hearts who love them and for the ones who are looking for any sign there is more to this life than pain and darkness.
*If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health, please reach out for help. There are many resources available to provide support and guidance.
National Hotlines:
Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741
988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline: A 24/7 hotline for immediate support.
NAMI HelpLine: 1-800-950-NAMI (6264)
Most of the time I’m just kind of rolling along.
There are things to do, places to go, people to see, animals to feed.
I get up, get going and get on with it.
But there are some days that are what I call “Hard Stops” on this journey. They are the days that force my heart to take special notice of the fact that Dominic isn’t here.
Sometimes they are milestone days like birthdays or holidays or the anniversary of that awful knock on the door.
Sometimes they are events where he should be there-like seeing his brother one more time before he deploys half-way around the world.
These days make my heart measure the time since I last hugged his neck, heard his voice, saw his strong, square hands reach across the table for the salt shaker-and I am overcome with how long it has been!
Then my heart shifts to the months and likely years I will have to live with this aching empty place where he should be but isn’t and I fear I just can’t do it!
Many days I’m able to distract myself from the sorrow and to live with the missing.
But these “hard stop” days force me to face it head on. and it is overwhelming.
Every. Time.
So what do I do?
When my heart is overwhelmed, I take it to the Rock that is higher than I.
I run to the Refuge of my Faithful Father.
I turn my eyes to my Savior Who will redeem and restore.
I put my hand firmly in the hand of my Shepherd Who will not leave me in this Valley of the Shadow of Death.
And I pray for myself-and every heart having a hard time holding onto hope today-that we will feel the Father’s loving arms around us and that He will give us strength to stand.
I belong to several online closed groups for bereaved parents/ grandparents. A current topic is “How did family support you in your loss?”.
I am stunned at the number of bereaved hearts that were abandoned.
I am thankful I’m not among them.
If you stepped back instead of stepping up when a family member experienced loss there is still time.
Admit your fear, failing or whatever and offer support NOW.
They still need you.
There’s no expiration date on grief. 
thelifeididntchoose 