Many bereaved parents share some emotional bruises others might never see or think about. Lots of everyday interactions press hard against the tender places and make them hurt all the more.
I don’t expect family and friends to walk on eggshells around me, second-guessing everything they say or do. That would be awful for all of us!
But just in case you wonder, here are places my heart is tender:
Read the rest here: It’s Kind of Tender Just There
When your child leaves this world, your mind and heart work hard to extract hints of the coming tragedy from all kinds of random events.
For me, there were eerie parallels between how I experienced his birth and how I experienced the news of his death.
Melanie
When Dominic was born by C-section, they placed the epidural too high and I was unable to feel my chest rise and fall as I continued to breathe.
It was a frightening experience.
Read the rest here: Broken Hearts Still Beat
A fellow bereaved mom commented on a recent holiday post with this question: How do you make joy, when your heart has no joy?
It was a good and honest query. One that stopped me in my tracks.
Read the rest here: Flickers Of Light, Guiding My Heart Home
We think leaves fall when we turn the calendar page to Autumn months.
Piles of red, gold and orange land beneath trees that grow increasingly barren until one day they are truly naked.
But leaves begin to fall as early as July-hardly noticed because they drift down lonely, one by one.
We think people live to the fullness of years. They begin in spring and pass through all the seasons before the cold winter claims them.
But some survive only one season, or two–never enjoying the fruitful harvest of the latter years the younger years of hard work are meant to produce.
Read the rest here: Falling Leaves
I try to limit the time I spend perusing old photos and old social media posts of my missing son.
I’ve learned that while they remind me of sweet memories and happy times they also prick my heart in ways nothing else can.
I was looking for something specific the other day and had to scroll through Dominic’s Facebook page to find it. As I did, I began reading some of the back and forth comments under the posts and pictures.
This time it wasn’t what was said or where the photos were taken that hurt my heart.
Instead it was the tiny little time stamp underneath the words that took my breath away.
Nothing more recent than seven years ago was recorded.
Because that’s when his voice went silent.
Read the rest here: I Miss Your Voice: Silent Echoes Haunt My Heart
It’s easy to imagine when sitting in a safe place surrounded by other believers that if tragedy should visit my home, my faith would remain rock solid and unshakeable.
After all, I stuffed my head and heart with truth, kept a prayer journal, wrote out Scriptures and jotted notes and dates in the margin of my Bible.
I put on the full Armor of God and raised my children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Our family didn’t just attend church, we served the Body of Christ inside and outside the four walls of the building.
But when the knock came and the words from the deputy flew at me and pierced my heart, I unraveled.
Read the rest here: Living Between What I Know and What I Can’t Comprehend
I remember the first couple times I ventured out in public after Dominic left us and the flurry of activity surrounding his funeral was over.
I felt naked, afraid and oh, so vulnerable.
The tiniest misplaced word or random glance could undo me and I burst into tears.
Read the rest here: They Don’t Know What They Don’t Know
I’ve written before about how I choose to leave some things just as Dominic left them-even over seven years later.
It’s my way of maintaining physical space in our home that represents the space in my heart where only he can fit.
It’s also more than that.
As time progresses, nearly every other tangible evidence that Dominic existed is being worn away.
Read the rest here: And The Gap Grows: Trying To Remember In a World That Forgets
I was asked a few months ago to record a short video sharing about how my son’s death impacted my faith.
It was the first time in the more than seven years since he ran ahead to Heaven I’d tried to tell the story in so few words.
And while I’ve shared much of this same material (plus even more details, thoughts and feelings!) here on the blog, I thought a few of you may want to watch this short video to gain some background you might have missed.
I DID misspeak in one instance-my eldest son was not yet in the Air Force at that time. He was out of town though when I got the news of his brother’s accident.
So here you go:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jyzgBWffrGlKzHK9jl_Iu86bCse3ZiiC/view?usp=sharing
I want to say up front that I am no theologian.
I am, instead, a sincere follower of the Lord Jesus Christ who reads the Bible and tries hard to understand what it says and let it inform my worldview.
I know I’ve written about this before but it comes up again and again in bereaved parent groups so I’m sharing MY perspective one more time.
Here’s the question:
If God is sovereign (meaning all powerful) then why didn’t He save my child?
Read my answer here: At The Intersection of God’s Sovereignty and Free Will: Accidents and Miracles
thelifeididntchoose 