Dominic – Page 188 – thelifeididntchoose

Twenty-Three Years, Ten Months, Fifteen Days and Holding

Today would be Dominic’s twenty-ninth birthday.

Except it isn’t.

Because I have absolutely NO IDEA if anyone is aware of the passage of time in Heaven or if birthdays are even a thing there.

So instead of celebrating another year with my third born, I’m celebrating the years I had with him-too few as far as my heart’s concerned.

I am oh, so thankful for the time I had.

But my heart cries, “More! More!”

I’m no good at this “birthday in absentia” thing. This is the sixth time May 28th has rolled around without Dominic here to eat cake, open presents or break his usually strict dieting rules and gobble down pasta.

A couple of years I’ve purchased a cake in secret at a local bakery for a child that shares Dom’s birthday.

Most years I’ve quietly remembered the events leading to his birth including what now feels like a prescient experience: my obstetrician’s nurse came into the room as I was waiting for a C-section delivery and whispered, “Dr. H is here, but his daughter completed suicide yesterday”. *

When they brought Dom close to my head so I could kiss him before they whisked him away and sewed me up, tears streamed down my face. I really had NO CLUE, but I realized (in a tiny way) that this man was here ushering life into the world as his own heart was breaking for a life that was no more.

All I could say was, “Thank you! I am so, so sorry.”

And I meant it.

Now I know what it cost him to be there. What it cost him to see a family made larger at the moment his (earthly) family had been made smaller.

This year we are at my oldest son’s home savoring the first precious moments holding our grandson. Born too early, his story could have ended badly.

It didn’t and for that I am thankful.

Ryker’s original due date was May 27th-one day before Dominic’s birthday.

It’s fitting that we have a new life to celebrate even as we celebrate missing Dom.

I’ll be honest, I don’t know how to merge these two lives, these opposite feelings, this joy and sorrow meeting in my heart.

I vacillate between overwhelming sadness and overwhelming gratitude that my grandson’s story is beautiful, remarkable, nearly miraculous.

So today I will try to honor Dominic-who he was, who he still is (even more so and perfectly in Heaven!) and the precious gift of another generation to love, nurture and cherish.

I’ll try to lay aside the awful knowledge I carry in my heart that any day things can change. What you never think can happen DOES happen.

I’ll celebrate love.

Because love lives forever.

Always.

*Dominic was killed instantly in a single vehicle motorcycle accident April 12, 2014.

Child Loss: Adding Up The Missed Milestones

So we went to my niece’s high school graduation this week.

It was another in a recent long line of events Dominic was not here to celebrate with us.

Another set of pictures missing his grin, his shoulders, his goofy antics, his presence.

It’s really beginning to add up.

And it hurts.

We were plunged headlong into some important celebrations in the first two months after Dominic left us-two graduations and a wedding. But there was a kind of lingering aura that made it a little more bearable. Everyone involved KNEW Dominic. So while he was not there bodily, he was present nonetheless because so many people carried a piece of him in their hearts, had stories to tell and made comments about how he would have done this or that.

My niece obviously knew Dominic. And that’s a comfort. But the last time he saw her she was just entering her teen years. Now she’s leaving high school headed toward adulthood.

Fiona’s new husband never met Dom. His friends are a world set apart from our pre-loss life. His family knows Fiona lost a brother and me a son but they have no idea how that fact changes everything. They can’t. They don’t have anything to compare it to.

My sweet little grandson will grow up hearing stories but never seeing the man behind them. He will perceive Uncle Dominic as a tale told sometimes with tears and sometimes with laughter but never be the target of Dominic’s sometimes wicked humor nor feel the comfort of his strong arms.

In some ways five years might as well be a lifetime.

So much has changed.

So much I want to talk over with Dominic.

So much I wish he was here to see.

I know he is perfectly content in Heaven with Jesus. He’s not missing out on a thing! But I can’t stop my heart from selfishly wanting him here with me as well.

It’s like playing a piano with a sticky key-somehow the melody is always just a little off.

Never quite right.

❤

Grief is a Family Affair

Child loss is also often sibling loss.

In addition to their own heartache, bereaved parents carry the heartache of their surviving children.

The family everyone once knew is now a family no one recognizes. Hurting hearts huddle together-or run and hide-and it is so, so hard to find a way to talk about that pain.

There is definitely a time and place for professional counseling. Many, many families benefit from having a trained individual, outside the immediate grief circle, guide them in exploring feelings, developing coping strategies and learning to live life this side of loss.

But there is also something to be said for arranging casual open-ended activities with surviving siblings, parents and even grandparents where space and a more relaxed atmosphere often leads to honest sharing.

This graphic has lots of excellent suggestions for how to craft such a space.

Not all will be suitable for every family, but every family should be able to find a few that fit.

I’ll add these guidelines that may help your family make the best choice for YOU:

Don’t force it. If you make an offer of an activity and it drops with a thud to the ground, let it go. You might be able to do it another time.
Don’t make it (what my kids like to say!) a “mandatory option”. There must be no guilt or coercion invading this space. If one or more of your family members consistently refuse to join in, consider asking a close family friend to take that individual out alone and see what might be going on.
If you choose a movie or other story-themed activity, LOOK UP THE PLOT! I can’t tell you how many times we were sideswiped by a death scene or some other heavy emotional plot twist. There may be a time when your family is prepared to experience those things together (we can now) but it may not be yet.
Mix and match more structured activities with open-ended ones like walks outside, watching the sunset, sitting on the beach, hanging at the pool, playing a game (not too competitive-that will sometimes bring out hidden anger).
If you have a family with a broad range of ages you might have to do some things with the littles and some with the older kids. You can always add one or two activities a month or quarter where everyone (or as many as are available) gets together.
If your children, spouse, parent or other close griever begins to talk-let them. If tears flow-that’s progress! If ugly feelings are expressed, listen. Try not to be defensive. Try to hear the hurt behind the words. It’s OK to set ground rules like using “I” statements and not blaming. But don’t shut them out or shut them down.

These are just ideas.

Google is your friend and your phone is probably already in your hand or pocket-use it.

Find things that fit YOUR family.

The only way through is through.

You have to feel and deal to heal. ❤

Repost: How and Why I Keep Writing-A Shepherd’s Heart

I am still utterly amazed that since November 2015 I have managed a blog post every day.

At first, I was writing because I wanted to make public the things I was learning in this Valley and to honor my missing son.

He had been in Heaven a year and a half by then and it was clear to this mama’s heart that (1) people (including ME before it WAS me!) had absolutely NO IDEA what life after child loss was like once the funeral was over; (2) one way to redeem this pain was to share how God had been faithful even as I struggled; and (3) I just didn’t see too many honest portrayals of life after loss for Christ followers (which is not to say they didn’t/don’t exist but I hadn’t found them).

So I wrote.

Read the rest here: How and Why I Keep Writing: A Shepherd’s Heart

Quiet Desperation

I’d say my relationship with God right now is one of quiet desperation.

I know, know, know that He is in control.

I absolutely believe that Dominic is safe with Him and that He will hold onto me even when I can’t hold onto Him.

I give them a life that is unceasing, and death will not have the last word. Nothing or no one can steal them from My hand.

John 10:28 VOICE

But I am also often like a petulant child who comes to the dinner table knowing full well I won’t be refused yet angry I have to come at all. I want to provide for myself (yet can’t!) since things haven’t gone my way.

I eat because I need the sustenance but it doesn’t always taste good going down. Afterwards I go away full and satisfied yet there’s still some leftover discord.

I’m thankful and question in the same breath.

It’s uncomfortable.

But there is nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to-the Lord is my Light and my Salvation.

Lord, if we were to go, whom would we follow? You speak the words that give everlasting life. We believe and recognize that You are the Holy One sent by God.

John 6:68-69 VOICE

Ugly Crying

I haven’t had a good gut-wrenching, chest-thumping ugly cry in awhile.

I had one yesterday.

Taking clothes off the line to bring indoors before nightfall, I was suddenly overcome with emotion.

I remembered Dominic’s graduation presentation in our back yard. I thought about my daughter’s wedding and how he was missing another important event. Then I pictured my grandson who would never know Uncle Dominic in three dimensions-only by flat photos and through our renderings of him.

Five years!

How can it possibly be five years since I last saw that face, hugged that neck, heard that voice?

And what has become of us in the meantime?

We are more

and less.

More compassionate, more deliberate in maintaining connection with one another, more focused on what really matters, more likely to cry in movies, more willing to drive or fly or walk or swim to get to the people we love. Five minutes of face-to-face makes it worthwhile.

We are less tolerant of petty grievances, less sure that bad things don’t happen to “good” people, less likely to sweat the small stuff and less inclined to assume we know another heart’s story when we first meet her. We don’t take anything for granted.

Walking into wedding weekend is another giant challenge. Full of beautiful things and special moments and wonderful friends.

But we all carry Dominic-his life, light and death-with us everywhere we go.

So I’m sure there will be moments when my heart shows up on my face.

I’m bringing a hanky. ❤

My Sixth Mother’s Day as a Bereaved Mother

When it first happened all I could think about was getting through a minute, then a day and then all the decisions and days leading up to a funeral or memorial service.

There’s no road map.

Even when others come alongside (and many, many did!) there’s just no easy way to navigate that part of the journey.

And then I realized that in addition to all the “regular” days that absolutely, positively break your heart, I had to forge a path through “special” days.

It was overwhelming!

Mother’s Day was especially challenging that first year. Our loss was fresh and we’d had to acknowledge and celebrate two graduations and a wedding was about a month away. How in the world could I honor my living children and also safeguard my broken heart?

We muddled through by having Mother’s Day at my daughter’s apartment co-hosted by some of her sweetest and most compassionate friends. Not a lot of fanfare, but good food, good company and a quiet acknowledgment of Dom’s absence but also my living children’s presence.

It was a gift.

This is my sixth Mother’s Day. Every year is different. Every year presents new challenges and every year things change.

Since discovering there is an International Bereaved Mother’s Day my heart has taken advantage of having a day to think about and honor Dominic and then another day to think about and honor my living children.

That helps.

I wrote this post three years ago but can’t really improve on it so I’ll share it again. I pray that each heart who finds Mother’s Day hard will lean in and take hold of the hem of His garment.

It’s really the only way.

Read the rest here: Mother’s Day as a Bereaved Mother

Child Loss by Addiction

We talk about a lot of things as if they didn’t reflect a real person and a real life.

Addiction is one of them. And let me just tell you, every single number is a life and behind every single life is a family.

Statistics are easy to toss around until one of those numbers represents YOUR child.

My son was killed in a single-vehicle motorcycle accident. One of the 76 individuals who died on a motorcycle in Alabama in 2014. If you look it up, you’ll find tables printed with clean edges and comparative data one year to the next.

But if you look at me-and hold up a photo from BEFORE-you’ll see grief etched into a mama’s face that can’t be measured, sifted or weighed.

My son was not an addict. He was a health nut. But he liked his motorcycle and never saw the contradiction between spending hours at the gym then putting that beautiful body on a fast moving, unprotected engine-on-wheels. A helmet was not enough to save him that night.

Addicts don’t start out wanting the life so many of them end up living. They take a puff or a pill or a drink and think it’s all in fun. They have no way to know that the one moment of weakness or even purposeful exploration may result in a lifetime of struggle.

Once caught in the cycle of craving and crawling out and caving again they may or may not eventually find the light. They may or may not become sober for the rest of their days. They may or may not have the inner strength, the outside support, the medical intervention and inpatient treatment they need to conquer this demon.

And it is a demon.

Addiction is never a choice even when the first indulgence into drugs or alcohol is.

Parents living with addicted children do everything they can to guide them to help. They try tough love, abundant grace, boundaries, threats and rewards. Some even move their families to try to escape habitual influences on their child-hoping against hope that a new place and new friends will create a safe space where addiction can’t flourish.

It rarely works. In the end, addiction takes too many of our children. Addiction kills.

And the wreckage left the other side of those deaths is enormous. It’s messy and ugly and hard to sort through.

The one thing NO parent of an addicted child needs is someone else’s misguided advice on how they could have “saved” his or her child. They don’t need quips about “seeing it coming”. They don’t need anyone to heap shame on them because of the choices their child made and the disease that robbed them of choice in the end.

So when we talk about addiction and numbers and treatment and responsibility and especially death, we need to remember that every single statistic is a person.

Every single person has a family.

And that family is devastated.

Speak gently. Extend grace. Offer love.

They already know shame.

International Bereaved Mother’s Day 2019

International Bereaved Mother’s Day is observed the Sunday before Mother’s Day in the United States. This year it’s tomorrow, May 5, 2019.

I didn’t even know such a day existed until I was a mom that needed it.

Read the rest here: International Bereaved Mother’s Day

Sleepless Nights

For the first couple of weeks after Dominic left us, I couldn’t fall asleep.

It was impossible to close my eyes without a dozen awful scenes flashing behind the lids.

Silent darkness was not my friend.

Eventually exhaustion won and I could fall asleep but couldn’t stay asleep. Two or three hours in and my body had just enough rest to shake slumber and force my heart to face another day (even if the sun wasn’t up yet).

Somewhere around year three I finally settled into a pretty regular pattern of between five and six hours of solid sleep.

But for the past several months I’ve lost the rhythm and am once again struggling.

Lots of changes, lots of stress, lots of physical discomfort and lots of lists floating in my head have landed me back in sleepless territory.

I wish there was a switch I could flip that made it easy to fall and stay asleep. I wish there was a way to stop stray thoughts from invading my consciousness and my dreams. I wish I could have a solid week of solid sleep.

I know it would make everything so much easier to manage.

I’d be calmer, more focused, more energetic and more optimistic.

But it’s a vicious cycle.

I’m hoping long days of hard work in the summer sun will shift my body back to a better rhythm.

Maybe.

Eventually.

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