“Death ends a life, not a relationship.” ~ Tuesdays with Morrie
A parent’s love doesn’t end simply because a child leaves this earth.
The relationship is not over as long as a bereaved parent’s heart beats.
Read the rest here: “Death Ends a Life, Not a Relationship”
I belong to a number of closed online bereaved parent groups.
I’m not sure if it is a function of gender or not, but the moms seem to be a bit more willing to share their feelings and to respond to the feelings of others.
Every now and then, a dad speaks up. When he does, I usually pay close attention to this male perspective.
Read the rest here: What I’ve Learned About Grief: A Bereaved Dad’s Perspective
I got my dad to take this picture on Father’s Day 2013 as a joke.
Dominic had a habit of being out of town for both his birthday and Father’s Day most years and he was studying abroad that summer.
It was meant to poke fun at him being absent yet again for a family gathering. It was meant to be funny.
It’s not funny anymore.
❤
Dominic had a habit of managing to travel on his birthday and often into the summer months.
He’d jump at every opportunity to go here, there and everywhere.
He had the heart of an adventurer and life on our little farm in the middle of rural Alabama didn’t often offer the excitement his heart craved.
Read the rest here: Not Funny Anymore
I’ll be honest-I bristle more than a little bit when people suggest that bereaved fathers don’t feel grief as deeply as bereaved mothers.
They absolutely do.
The problem is that, as a group, bereaved fathers are less likely to make their feelings known, less likely to talk about the impact grief has on their lives and less likely to allow others into their private world of pain and sorrow.
For that reason, fathers are often overlooked grievers.
But they shouldn’t be.
Dads aren’t bystanders in the shattered world of child loss-they are participants as parents of a son or daughter whom they love just as much as any mother.
So just like Mother’s Day is hard for moms, Father’s Day is hard for them.
Read the rest here: Father’s Day for Bereaved Fathers
*I wanted to get this out early enough to help friends and family of a bereaved father understand a little better how they can encourage him as Father’s Day approaches.*
In honor of Father’s Day tomorrow, I’m reposting this blog from a few months ago.
It’s true that there is a lopsided representation of mothers’ points of view in the child loss community. But much of that is a function of the (very general) tendency of women (as a group) to be more vocal about their feelings than men (as a group).
I hope more bereaved dads will take up the mantle and make their voices heard. So many broken hearts need to know they are not alone. ❤
I’ve gotten a similar comment from two different bereaved fathers in the past two days.
It goes something like this, “I’m offended by the implication (one was in a meme, another was a reader comment) that mothers grieve more than dads”.
I appreciate the comments even though I disagreed with the interpretation these men gave to what was actually stated.
I responded by saying that since I am a mother-not a father-I write from my own perspective. I don’t try to fit my shoes on anyone else’s feet.
Read the rest here: Fathers Grieve Too
Fathers are often overlooked grievers.
They shouldn’t be.
Dads aren’t bystanders in the shattered world of child loss-they are participants as parents of a son or daughter whom they love just as much as any mother.
So just like Mother’s Day is hard for moms, Father’s Day is hard for them.
Read the rest here: Father’s Day for Bereaved Fathers
*I wanted to get this out early enough to help friends and family of a bereaved father understand a little better how they can encourage him as Father’s Day approaches.*
Dominic had a habit of managing to travel on his birthday and often into the summer months.
He’d jump at every opportunity to go here, there and everywhere.
He had the heart of an adventurer and life on our little farm in the middle of rural Alabama didn’t often offer the excitement his heart craved.
So just after his first year in Law School, he chose to study abroad for a short semester in the spring of 2013.
The rest of us gathered for the traditional Father’s Day photo with my husband and I thought it would be funny (and probably irritate Dom a bit) if I held up a photo of him as a two-year-old since he wasn’t there.
It WAS funny at the time.
And he saw it half way around the world and thought so too.
It popped up in my Facebook memories yesterday.
It’s not funny anymore.
Those broad smiles have been wiped right off our faces.
Because the ONLY way we can include Dominic in ANY family pictures anymore is with a photograph.
And while we’ve yet to have as many years between us as in the picture I held up that day, they’re coming (if we live and the Lord tarries).
I hate that.
I wrote this a couple of years ago when I realized that in many ways bereaved dads are forgotten mourners.
I think it’s partly due to the fact that many (not all!) men tend to hide their feelings and are less likely to burst into tears when grief waves overtake them.
So most people (who really don’t understand child loss at all-thankfully) assume Dad is doing OK.
I can promise you that Dad is NOT doing OK. His heart is in just as many pieces as Mom’s. And Father’s Day is just as hard for him as Mother’s Day is for her.
I can’t pretend to understand exactly what it feels like to be a father who buries a child. I’ve only been able to watch from the outside as my husband absorbed the impact of that great wound.
But I can tell you this: for dads, like moms, each holiday is another mile marker on the road of grief.
It is another poignant reminder that things are not as they were-they are not as they should be.
Read the rest here: Father’s Day for Bereaved Fathers
I can’t pretend to understand exactly what it feels like to be a father who buries a child. I’ve only been able to watch from the outside as my husband absorbed the impact of that great wound.
But I can tell you this: for dads, like moms, each holiday is another mile marker on the road of grief.
It is another poignant reminder that things are not as they were-they are not as they should be.
Many men keep the hurt bottled up inside, don’t talk about it, don’t seek out fellow bereaved fathers, and don’t cry as much as their wives.
It is easy to forget and overlook the ongoing pain of child loss for fathers-especially when outward signs are few.
But I promise you-that dad in the pew on Sunday-he’s hurting.
That man shaking hands and joking-he remembers.
He hasn’t forgotten that one of the special people that called him “Daddy” is no longer around to do it.
Tell him you remember too.
Speak his child’s name and share a special memory.
Acknowledge the pain. Let him express his grief.
And honor him as a father to ALL his children-those that walk the earth with him and those that don’t.
