Just a couple of days before Dominic left us, I and another one of my kids had a fuss.
He was frustrated and stressed and I was vulnerable and stressed and a few stray words ended up hurting my feelings.
I said, “I can’t talk anymore now”, and hung up the phone in tears.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2016/10/27/speak-your-peace/
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: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2016/09/03/grief-and-holidayswhat-the-bereaved-need-from-friends-and-family/
Dominic’s leaving for Heaven coincided with big changes in our family.
College graduations, new jobs, a marriage and moves meant that even if Dominic were still here things wouldn’t have been “business as usual”.
Tossing the heartache of child loss into the mix made it nearly impossible to make decisions and juggle schedules and even think about pulling together a big meal.
That was over five years ago. And while I have yet to find a rhythm for any holiday I have learned how to approach and find a way through.
But THIS year, my mother’s sudden and unexpected journey to join Dominic and Jesus has us off-balance again.
So I’m back to trying to follow my own good advice.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2017/11/08/holidays-and-grief-thanksgiving-plan/
The calendar is tricky for grieving hearts.
It’s not just a way to plan events or remember doctor appointments.
It’s full of milestone dates and commitments that loom large and awful like an oncoming train in a dark tunnel.
Sometimes I just want to fall asleep sometime around the end of October and wake up in January after all the hoopla is over.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2018/10/21/grief-and-holidays-how-can-i-make-it-through/
What you tell yourself matters.
What you rehearse becomes what you believe.
What you believe becomes what you do.
When Dominic first ran ahead to Heaven, I was determined to hold onto truth with both hands. I would not allow my mind to wander the winding path of “Why?“ or “What if?” or “Where now?”
I was able to keep that up until the funeral.
Then the bottom fell out.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2017/10/20/why-self-talk-matters/
I realize yesterday’s post was somewhat out of character.
I was angry and hurt and utterly dumbfounded that another parent might take my words exactly as I wrote them (emphasis and all) and simply lift them out of context and plaster them across the Internet.
My heart is especially vulnerable right now.
My mother just died. It’s only been three weeks. And her death has reopened wounds I’d grown skilled at ignoring.
While I’ve been encouraged by many of you who understand the way I feel, I’ve also been hurt by many who seem to think that if I protect my intellectual property I’m petty and unkind.
So I’m just gonna put this out there-I’m tired, y’all. Worn out.
I’m more exhausted than I’ve been since the first year after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
The past two years have drained every ounce of reserve I had (and that wasn’t much).
This week has finished me off.
I’m not going to fight to try to get anyone who can’t understand to see my point of view. My debating days are over.
I might just lay the blog aside for awhile. I don’t really know right now.
So, “thank you” to everyone who has come along for the ride. Thank you to every heart that has reached across the miles or across cultures to comment and join in on the conversation. You have encouraged me more than you will ever know.
But I’m tapped out.
❤
This morning I opened my social media as I always do-checking in on the pages I administer and the private groups I moderate.
I consider it a sacred duty to watch after the precious hearts who choose to be open and honest and expect a safe, secure space in which to do it.
As I was scrolling and reading, I came across this meme:
No quotation marks, no author cited.
These are MY words written about MY son and very, very personal.
You can read the original post here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2016/08/17/unnatural/
I’ve written before about how painful it is when people steal words. Not because I want recognition myself. If that was my desire I’d have collected the posts into a book by now. Not because I seek monetary gain. If that was true, I’d have advertisements or sponsored links. Not because I’m so naive to believe people can’t steal them in this wild, wild world of Internet freedom and piracy.
No. It’s painful because it’s disrespectful of me, my family and my son about whom they are written.
I write and share so that others have words to help their hearts. The only thing I ask in return is that the origin of them is acknowledged.
Is there no shame anywhere?
Is there no honor among parents who also share the pain of child loss?
I can’t imagine that a stranger, ignorant of the burden we bear, snapped up these words randomly to make a meme.
I don’t want to spend my time searching the internet and bereaved parent sites looking for instances where someone has stolen my words and dishonored my son and misused my trust.
I’m not going to do it.
But I am going to publicly point out that it happens.
And if it’s you who has done it-
shame on you!
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 eight years ago was recorded.
Because that’s when his voice went silent.
That’s when whatever he was going to say was either said or never would be said. That’s when all the brilliant, not-so-brilliant, snarky, funny, sad, silly and sage thoughts Dominic ever had or ever would have were cut off.
I firmly believe that Dominic is safe in the arms of Jesus-more alive now than he ever was here. I know he’s got things to say and when I join him we will have eternity to chat together.
But right now, what I wouldn’t give for one more conversation in the here and now.
I’ve got things I want to ask him.
I’ve got things I want to tell him.
I’d love to hear his voice or read his comments or see a new picture.
The years of silence echo loud in my ears and louder in my heart.
How do I honor the child for whom memories are all I have and love well the children with whom I am still making memories?
That’s a question I ask myself often.
And it is especially difficult to answer for celebrations and holidays, special events and birthdays.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2016/12/16/surviving-siblings-and-christmas/
My mother’s death has forced me to relive the early days after Dominic’s death.
While her leaving was not completely unexpected (she had many health issues and was not strong) it was still sudden.
And one of the things I’m reliving is that while this giant life-altering event has turned MY world upside down and inside out, it really hasn’t changed anything for those outside a very small inner circle of grievers.
The weird, weird thing about devastating loss is that life actually goes on. When you’re faced with a tragedy, a loss so huge that you have no idea how you can live through it, somehow, the world keeps turning, the seconds keep ticking.
James Patterson
Life DOES go on.
I had someone ask me a question in church Sunday about a decision that was made a week or two before my mom went into the hospital for the last time. It took me at least a full minute to orient my brain to the question and longer to answer it because I could barely remember anything that happened in the past weeks before Mama died.
It was like that after Dominic left us.
I felt like I was living in a low-budget foreign feature film (think ancient Godzilla movies) where English was simply dubbed over the Asian actors original dialogue and everything was slightly “off”. Words were being said that I SHOULD understand but they didn’t match what my eyes were seeing. It took tremendous effort to comprehend what people said to me and an even greater effort to comprehend the context of what they were saying.
It is a weird, weird thing that time moves on regardless of my shattered world.
It is a weird, weird thing that people keep doing routine stuff like watching favorite TV shows, going to football games, celebrating birthdays, checking the value of their portfolio, chiming in on social media and buying groceries.
It is a weird, weird thing that I grow older while Dominic stays twenty-three-almost-twenty-four. It’s even weirder that his once younger brother is now twenty-seven.
I used to think I had a pretty good imagination. But now I’m not so sure.
I can’t scale Dominic up to what he might be doing now, who he might be dating or married to, where he might have chosen to pursue a career or if he might have done something entirely different than anything he’d done before.
Time really DOES march on.
It doesn’t require my permission.
It doesn’t even notice me at all.
That’s a weird, weird thing.
thelifeididntchoose 