family – Page 41 – thelifeididntchoose

Grief and Holidays:What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family

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.

So I’m trying to make it easier on all of us.

I’m trying to be brave and think ahead and offer up what I can to help you understand.

I’m not asking you to stuff your feelings. But I am asking you to weigh your disappointment in things being different against my unfathomable sorrow in burying my child.

And this is what I need from YOU:

Acknowledge my loss. It doesn’t matter if it has been a few months, a few years or even decades-every single time the whole family gets together, the hole where my child SHOULD be is highlighted. Other people may have moved on, and I am stronger now than I was, but the missing is as hard today as it was the day he left. I need you to acknowledge that even if you don’t understand it.

Be flexible. Every day is different for me. And even if we did a certain thing last year, it may not be something I want to repeat. Life circumstances continue to evolve-living children grow and marry, grandchildren make their appearance, health issues may emerge and change physical capabilities-life keeps on regardless of loss. So this year is DIFFERENT than last year. For everyone. If we all embrace flexibility, there’s less opportunity for breakage. Rubber bounces. Glass shatters. I don’t want my loss to be the central focus, but it’s a huge part of my experience and I can’t ignore it. Help me, please.

Give me space. Grant space in the larger picture-don’t make showing up to every family event a “mandatory option”. Understand that even with planning and the best intentions, I may wake up and realize that I. just. can’t. do. it. Or I may come, but leave early. And grant space in the details-if I walk out of a room, let me go. It may be helpful for one person to check on me after a few minutes but don’t send the calvary to drag me back. I don’t always want to detract from a gathering and I may need to cry, or gather myself, or just sit silently remembering my son.

Give me time. Time by itself does not heal anything. But time is a critical component of healing. If this is the first holiday season after loss, don’t pressure me with artificial deadlines about what I want to do or whether or not I’m going to participate in this or that. And even if it’s not the first season, I still need time. It will be the third set of holidays after my son’s departure and I’m still feeling my way in the dark. Don’t force me to decide if I can’t. Just go on with your plans. If I can join in, I will. If I can’t, then I won’t. That’s the best I can do. It’s how I have to live every single day right now.

Grant mercy. I will mess up. I will say things in the passion of loss that I regret. Overlook it. Don’t lash out or hit back. My emotional tank is so empty sometimes that it’s a wonder I can still feel anything. I am truly trying. Grant mercy.

Extend grace. Grace is lavishing love on the unlovely. Forgiving when someone doesn’t ask for it. Doing something for someone and not expecting anything in return. Step up and step out in faith that loving me will help me heal. Even when you can’t see that it makes a difference. Don’t stop. Don’t withdraw.

Know that this is not what I would have chosen.

Child loss happened TO me.

It is out of my control.

And the calendar pages keep turning. Every holiday season means another year gone without the companionship of the child I miss.

I want to continue to embrace life, to enjoy my loved ones, to make new memories. But I need your help to make it happen.

Don’t abandon me now.

Grief, Holidays and Hard Conversations

For those using these posts as a guide for navigating the holidays after loss, I would recommend you view them all before having those hard conversations. I may not be giving the information in the best possible order. The last posts will contain ideas from other grieving parents and grandparents that might be very helpful in deciding what’s best for you and your family. You can share these posts to your own Facebook page or follow the blog via email to have access to them for easy future reference.

You don’t have to bury a child to know that changing long-standing family traditions around holidays is a hard, hard thing.

Just ask a parent trying to work out Thanksgiving and Christmas for the first time after an adult child marries. Suddenly the way things have “always been” are no longer the way things are.

Holidays typically involve so many more people and family members than everyday get-togethers and each person brings expectations, emotions and personal history to the table.

So, that is why I decided to run this series of posts NOW. Because one of the things I have learned over the years is that giving people time to adjust to change is a good thing.

If you have made a Holiday Journal like I suggested, then use a page to list all the people that are typically part of your family’s holiday plans-you might want to make subheadings by holiday (and there may be other special get-togethers your family observes, so include those).

That list is a starting point for the people you may need to communicate with about the upcoming holidays.

Don’t feel like you have to include each individual in a unique communication-you can focus on those who are “in charge” of the gatherings/traditions and request that they pass it along.

Here are some specific tips for reaching out:

Understand that they DO NOT understand.

I know that unless someone has experienced child loss themselves, they really do not understand what it feels like. (You might choose to share this post to help them understand-just a bit:What Grieving Parents Want Others to Know)
No matter how much they may want to, they cannot really feel what I feel. I have to constantly remind myself of that.

Don’t wait.

The closer we get to those dates on the calendar the more likely that others will assume you are just going to continue the traditions.
Most people dislike change. And they hate it even more when it is a last minute change. So don’t delay in at least giving those affected by your plans a “heads up” that things won’t be the same this year.
On a practical note people may need time to change plans if they involve making travel arrangements.

Decide how you will communicate your message.

Do you want to speak to them (on the phone or in person)? This choice allows for subtle communication through tone and inflection but also requires immediate response. Very few people can say, “I need to think about this” before blurting an answer. Sometimes verbal exchanges can escalate quickly.
Do you want to write your message (text, message, email)? This choice allows for a delayed response, gives a record of what was communicated but leaves room for misinterpretation because tone and inflection are hard to indicate by written word. Let your heart and past experience with the person(s) be your guide. It may be that it’s best one way for some and another way for others.

Acknowledge their loss.

Regardless of the relationship of other family members to your missing child, they have lost something and someone too. They may not feel my pain precisely, but they feel the pain of losing a grandson, nephew, cousin and they feel the pain of losing who I was before burying my child.
They need space and permission to express their loss.

Use “I” statements.

Don’t accuse. Don’t bring up every bad memory from Thanksgiving and Christmas past. Start from today and say, “I feel like I cannot do all (or some or any) of these things for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year.”
Be as honest as you can be. Feelings are not wrong. What we do with them may be wrong or hurtful. But it’s OK to say, “I just can’t do this right now” or “I don’t know how to do this without my child”.

Expect resistance.

People naturally hate change. We develop relationship ruts and it takes a lot of energy to climb out of them. They may very well find great comfort in keeping things as “normal” as possible after your loss.
What is helpful for you may feel threatening to them.
Stand your ground without being combative. You can say something like, “I understand this is very hard on you, and I am sorry that this is painful, but it’s just how it needs to be for me and my family to continue to heal.”

If you can, offer an alternative.

In subsequent posts I’ll share some ways other bereaved parents have approached the holiday season. Maybe one of those ideas will appeal to you and you can offer it as an alternative to the way things were before loss.
You might suggest that extended family continue traditions they cherish and you join in for the part you feel you can endure.

Extend grace.

Assume the best. Assume that your extended family and friends are trying to understand and do not want to add to your burden or cause you pain. Re-read messages with an ear to what hearts are saying even when the words may fail to communicate that message.
Ask for clarification before you react. There is so much room for misunderstanding around holiday plans anyway and when you add loss to the mix, it can be a recipe for relational disaster.
Allow time before responding to something that hurts your feelings. It may very well have been unintentional.

I know that all these suggestions require additional emotional energy when we feel we are already tapped out. We are already carrying a load that can crush a spirit-it seems unfair that we have to initiate the conversation, offer alternatives and give grace.

But they do not understand.

And they may not know where to start.

We have to remain focused on the goal: Surviving the holidays.

If your family includes young children, how you approach this season is even more important. You are building memories for them, shaping their childhood experiences and helping them learn to cope with what will be a life-long challenge-living with grief.

Consider printing this post and slipping it in your journal if you are making one. That way you can refer back to it easily.

Tomorrow: What the bereaved need from family and friends…

Grief and Holiday Plans: Working Out the Details

I live in Alabama where we are still sweating buckets under the late summer sun, so I understand if thinking about the holidays is the furthest thing from your mind.

School just starting, new routines in place-am I crazy?

Well, yes (you can find plenty of folks to back you up on that) and no-the days keep coming, one after the other, and these big days will be here sooner than we think.

And for grieving parents, it takes some thinking, some planning and some preparation to meet both extended family’s expectations and extra responsibilities at Thanksgiving and Christmas while carrying a load of sorrow and pain.

One thing I am learning in this journey is that even though I wish someone else would blaze the trail for me, I’m going to have to do it myself. And because every major milestone is overflowing with emotional booby-traps, I have to plan ahead.

I wrote this post Practical Ways to Love Grieving Parents at Christmas last year and it has some thoughts that many found helpful.

But I didn’t have it out there until right around Thanksgiving which might be too late for some folks to make adjustments in plans already made by others.

So even though it’s early, and even though I am and have always been one of those people that resents the “holiday creep” that blends everything after the Fourth of July into a hodge-podge of orange, brown, green and red (UGH!)-I’m going to spend the next couple posts on practical ways to plan ahead and relieve some of the stress of this time of year on bereaved parents.

Here’s a few things to get you started:

Find a notebook or journal (I use a 70 page spiral bound notebook) and write in large print “Holiday Journal” on the front cover.
Find or print copies of calendars from October through December and staple, tape or glue them on the very last pages or the back cover of your journal.
On the first page, note any dates (in order) of birthdays, regular family gatherings and trips, etc. that are already committed for those three months.
On the second and third pages make a heading: BRAINSTORMING. Then list what you like/dislike/hope for/dread about the upcoming holiday season. (an example: I dread having the family together in one place because it makes my son’s absence that much more apparent) Don’t edit yourself-write it all down-we will refer to this later.
On the fourth and fifth pages make a heading: FAMILY TRADITIONS. Then list all the things your family usually does for the holidays (if this is your first season after loss they will all be pre-loss traditions, if not, they may include both pre-loss and post-loss traditions)
Place your journal where you can get to it easily but out of reach of small hands and family pets.

Then take a breath-you. are. not. alone.

We’ll work together to establish a survival plan for the holidays.

Tomorrow: Dealing with extended family and how to have those hard conversations.

When Routine Wears You Down: Encouragement for the Worn Out Heart

It may not be this way around the country or around the world, but here in Alabama school has been in session for several weeks and the hot weather along with added commitments makes life a little harder.

After the excitement of posting “first day” photos wears off, routine sets in.

Carpools, music lessons, homework, getting everyone ready to rush out the door...it’s enough to wear anyone down.

That’s when it’s easy to lose sight of what’s important. That’s when the enemy whispers, “You don’t make a difference.”

He’s wrong.

You are shepherding eternal souls.

Don’t give up!

The tyranny of the urgent can push what’s important past the fringes of our attention.

Our vision can be so consumed with the day-to-day until there’s no space for long-term goals or ambitions.

But God has ordained that our children, eternal beings, be set in families.

Read the rest:

Sowing in Tears, Reaping in Joy

The Forgotten Ones: Grieving Siblings

I am always afraid that Dominic will be forgotten.

I’m afraid that as time passes, things change and lives move forward, his place in hearts will be squeezed smaller and smaller until only a speck remains.

Not in my heart, of course.

Or in the hearts of those closest to him, but in general-he will become less relevant.

But he is not the only one who can be forgotten. I am just as fearful that my living children will be forgotten.

Not in the same way-they are HERE.

They are participating in life and making new memories, new connections and strengthening old ones.

I’m afraid their grief will be overlooked, unacknowledged-swept under the giant rug of life and busyness that seems to cover everything unpleasant or undervalued.

If the course of a bereaved parent’s grief is marked by initial outpouring of concern, comfort and care followed by the falling away of friends, family and faithful companionship then that of a bereaved sibling is doubly so.

Surviving children often try to lessen a grieving parent’s burden by acting as if “everything is OK”.

But it’s not-it is definitely NOT.

Their world has been irrevocably altered. They have come face-to-face with mortality, with deep pain, with an understanding that bad things happen-happen to people they love-without warning and without remedy.

They are forced to rethink their family, their faith and their future without a life-long friend and companion.

Part of their history is gone.

If surviving children are young, it can be so, so easy to mistake the natural enthusiasm and excitement of youth for complete healing. They are often busy with events, education, work and life and the grief they still feel may go unnoticed-even by themselves.

But they need safe, consistent and compassionate care while they navigate grief and the enduring impacts of sibling loss. School counselors, grief counselors or mature and emotionally stable adult friends can be very helpful during this process.

It’s important to be alert to danger signals. Behavioral impacts may present in many ways:

Anxiety (situational, tests, generalized)
Risk taking
Isolation
Inability to enjoy previously enjoyable activities
Withdrawal from family or friends
Depression
Self-harming behavior
Drug or alcohol abuse
Poor grades (may have given up or may not be able to concentrate)
Extreme concern for other family members and their safety

If you observe any of these changes, get help. A grieving parent is rarely able to be the sole source of intensive counsel for a bereaved child-someone outside the grief circle may be a better choice.

Adult children-even those married and with kids of their own-are also changed forever by saying “good-bye” to a brother or sister. Addiction, depression and physical health issues can surface in the wake of loss.

It’s not always easy to connect the dots back to grief since life is full of stress and strain and they may need help.

My children have been blessed to have friends and loved ones who give them a safe place to go when grief overwhelms them or when other stressors on top of grief make life really hard.

If you know a bereaved sibling:

Reach out.
Be an encourager.
Don’t assume that because time has gone by, they are all better.
They may not want to talk about it and that’s OK. But if they do, listen. Without platitudes, without judgement-just be a safe place.
And if you notice something that’s just not “quite right” try to get them the help they may need to make it through this hard place.

Bereaved families are often doing the best they can, but they can’t do it alone.

When you bless my earthly children, you bless me. When you give them space to grieve, you give me space to breathe. When you encourage them, you encourage my heart too.

Don’t forget them.

Please.

No Substitute for TIME

Healing can’t be hurried.

Read the rest: No Rush

June Challenge: Eight Legs and Eternity

Day Eight of Kathleen Duncan’s June 1-30 challenge.

The prompt: Write a story with eight legs or turn the eight sideways and use “infinity” (eternity) as your prompt.

Eternity is a long time.

Just try and wrap your mind around it.

But when you bury a child, that’s what you think about-the forever that comes when he left his earthly body and entered the Presence of Jesus.

So many hard days followed, so many tears, so much pain. I wanted to escape to eternity with Dominic.

I would be there eventually anyway, why not now?

But it’s not up to me to determine when I go. So I remain, and try to find a way to make the days count, be useful and stay hope-filled.

And eight legs have helped me stay rooted in the “now” when my heart longs to be in “forever”.

That first Thanksgiving after losing Dominic in April, we visited our oldest son and his wife in West Virginia where she was a vet.

Touring Lillie’s office, we were introduced to two fluffy, orange kittens that had been abandoned by the road and brought there in hopes of finding a home.

One look and I was smitten.

It took less than five minutes to decide to take them back with us to Alabama.

Who could resist those faces?

At dinner that night, we brainstormed possible names. I still have the list in my notes on my phone: Kit Kat, Pumpkin, Scratch and Sniff, Cheetos, Doritos, Tostito.

We decided on names that reflected their roots- Moonshine and White Lightning.

After all, West Virginia is home to as many stills as hills.

Once we got back, their needs became part of my morning routine-a constant and undeniable reminder that I HAD to get out of bed. And they made me laugh!

Here is Lightning soaking up the sun in front of the picture window.

Moonshine’s personality is more relaxed-why sit when you can lay down?

I used to be able to pick up both of them with one hand, now it takes two hands to pick up one of them!

They have grown into good companions, great mousers, soft lap warmers and serious purr machines.

I’m very glad these eight legs live in my house.

They’ve been excellent therapy for my hurting heart.

Benefits of Pet Therapy:

lowers blood pressure

improves cardiovascular health

releases endorphins (oxytocin) that have a calming effect

diminishes overall physical pain

the act of petting produces an automatic relaxation response, reducing the amount of medication some folks need

lifts spirits and lessens depression

decreases feelings of isolation and alienation

encourages communcation

provides comfort

lowers anxiety

creates motivation for the client to recover faster

reduces loneliness

June Challenge: Five Favorite Foods

Day Five of Kathleen Duncan’s June 1-30 challenge.

The prompt: Share your five favorite foods or recipes.

I grew up in the South where Sunday dinner was delicious and church potlucks were prodigious.

If you were blessed to go to a church that had Fifth Sunday spreads, then you know what I mean.

On cement tables back of the church, good cooks pulled out all the stops and brought forth their most prized recipes for public consumption.

If you wanted a taste of Aunt Wilma’s cake or Aunt Mattie Lou’s beans, you had better be in the front of the line, because the best dishes were emptied fast.

So in honor of those warm memories, I share my five favorite church potluck foods:

Dessert First! {One of the privileges of potlucks}

Banana Pudding-a southern staple, this creamy concoction is both beautiful and delicious. It often arrived to the buffet with a corner scooped out because someone HAD to taste it-just to make sure it was good.

Pound Cake-crunchy crust, moist inside and a perfect foil for fresh fruit or ice cream. If you lived in a rural community it was made all the better wtih farm fresh egss, real butter and NEVER imitation vanilla.

Fried Chicken-before it was possible to pick up a box of chicken on almost any corner-good, iron skillet fried chicken was both an art and a treat. Only the best cooks could manage to get the meat done, yet still moist and produce a crispy crust.

Baked Macaroni and Cheese-full of cheesy goodness and oh, so different, than the stuff in the box! I’m sad that some children don’t even know it can be “homemade”.

Creamed Corn-fresh corn, picked and silked, then scalded and scraped from the cob. Grandmama would pull a few bags from the freezer and cook them down in a pot with a little butter and salt. You could taste summer and love in every bite.

I have fond memories of sitting on cement steps, swatting flies and eating delicious food surrounded by people I love.

I felt safe, protected, full and included.

My heart was assured that there would always be enough love, enough food and enough of everything to go around.

The Absence of His Presence is Everywhere

Something I’ve been learning in this grief journey is that loss is an ongoing event.

It’s not confined to the moment of death, the funeral, the burial or even the boxing up of belongings.

I suffer loss every time there is a moment when Dominic would have been present, should have been present and isn’t here.

It happens when I need to ask him a question, get his opinion, long for his help or just want to hear his voice.

It happens when I look at myself in the mirror and realize that the living mirror that was Dominic is gone.

There is so much more to his absence than just the hole in my heart.

I shared some of these feelings a few months ago:

A family isn’t just the sum of its parts. It isn’t a simple equation that can be worked out on a chalkboard or around a dinner table-this person plus that person equals two persons.

A family is an organic mixture of personalities, relationships, strengths and weaknesses that exponentially influence one another. I always joked that our family was a ready-made committee. Wherever we went we brought a fully staffed, action-ready army of six that spread out and triumphed over whatever challenge we faced.

You can read the rest here: Minus More Than One

A Good Day

Last Friday, my oldest son received his USAF captain’s bars. True to form, his path to this new achievement was unique and memorable. I’m so very proud of him and of his commitment to excellence.

And that meant that he was leaving San Antonio and headed to Maxwell AFB for Commissioned Officer Training. So he was able to swing by home on Sunday!

Sunday afternoon, my kids presented me with this beautiful “Family of Love” necklace for Mother’s Day. It has all their names and birthstones so I can wear them close to my heart. I love it!

James Michael brought me flowers-lots of purple, my favorite color.

And then we were joined by Joe and Seve, two of Dominic’s good friends from Law School. Joe surprised me with this amazing handmade plate from his recent travels to Turkey. I appreciate the love and support of these fellows and their ongoing commitment to remember Dominic and honor our family.

We had Robbie and Jonica over for supper with their new daughter. I got to cuddle this sweet baby and be reminded that love still lives and life goes on.

And no DeSimone adventure would be complete without an “emergency”. While getting food ready and on the table, we discovered a minor plumbing problem that flooded the downstairs bathroom, the laundry area and into the garage (all downhill-literally and figuratively).

So while we girls ate supper, the men worked at repairs.

Just like old times-one boy went in one direction, another went the other way and Julian manned the homefront. Thankfully, they were able to get things back in working order sooner rather than later. But not before I exhausted our supply of 24 full-sized “clean-up” towels that were washed in bleach the next day!

The evening ended with lots of laughter and plenty of carbs.

And a rare opportunity for a group photo that had me surrounded by all my children within reach. (Thank you, Alison, for snapping the picture!)

We miss you, Dominic.

And we can never stand close enough to squeeze out the giant hole you’ve left.

But we are living like you lived-making the most of the moments-and loving each other.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: