Tag: grief education

My Child Existed, He Matters.

I hid this post in my draft folder for months before I published it the first time.

It seemed too raw, too full of all the pain inside my mama heart to put out in the wide world for everyone to see.

And then it was time (like now) to change the flowers on the place where my son’s body rests and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “THIS IS NOT ALL THERE IS OF MY BOY!” I wanted to stop people on the street and make them listen to his story, to give away a piece of him for others to carry in their hearts.

My son is not a number or a statistic or only a memory.

He is integral to my story, blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh–part of my life.

I rest assured he lives in heaven with Jesus but I miss him here with me. That’s selfish, I know.  But I can’t seem to help it.

Read the rest here: You Existed, You Exist

Modeling Grief for the Next Generation

It’s tempting to try to hide our tears and fears from our living children and grandchildren.  

Who wants to overload a young heart and mind with grown-up problems?

There is definitely a place and time to shelter little people-it’s never appropriate to offload onto small shoulders what we just don’t want to carry ourselves.

But it is neither helpful nor healthy to pretend that sorrow and sadness don’t follow loss.  

Read the rest here: Why It’s So Important to Model Grief For Our Children & Grandchildren

Heartache and Hope Ministry Update

Oh, my!

I’ve been overwhelmed and undone by the outpouring of support for my tiny steps into the world of bigger ministry.

So many of you have messaged, commented, texted and donated and it has encouraged my heart.

I’ll be honest, when the Lord first whispered the idea of creating something “official” in my ear, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.

It sounded like a lot of work and a lot of commitment and a lot of potential for public failure.

But y’all have shouted a resounding “amen” to the questions, “Should I do this? Is there a need? Can I fill a space no one else is currently filling?”

Thank you.

I think you deserve an update on progress and plans, so here it is.

I’ve been working, working, working to learn the ins and outs of website design, non-profit record keeping and wise administration (along with delegation-not my forte!).

I finally figured out how to share at least some blog posts on the new website.

Don’t worry. I will continue to write here every day as usual but I will publish the most popular and most helpful articles at http://heartacheandhope.org as well.

The first in-person gathering for bereaved parents will be at my little rural church in the underserved community of Bibb County, Alabama on Thursday, October 17th.

There will be a time for sharing our stories, fellowship around a light supper and some brief helps on how to face the holidays after child loss.

These gatherings will be held most months and are open to any bereaved parents who want to attend.

I am hosting a small bereaved moms’ retreat at my family homestead in October as well. The theme is Heartache, Hope and Healing in Jesus-Broken Vessels, Beautiful Message.

My prayer is that the intimate setting, teaching, sharing, prayer and bonding fellowship will raise up other moms ready to share their stories and shed light for other hurting hearts.


We’ll close out the year with a Blue Christmas service honoring our missing children and preparing our hearts to receive the life, love and light that is Emmanuel-God With Us-during the Christmas season and always.

Next year’s calendar is already filling with presentations to various local (but out of town for me) support groups, additional retreats (information to follow),
monthly gatherings, facilitating a book study through Our Hearts are Home and (hopefully) a couple of opportunities to speak to pastors and others in ministry about how to help grieving parents.

You’ll be able to find these on the website calendar.

I’m developing several one or two page handouts for bereaved parent group leaders, pastors, social workers, healthcare workers and funeral homes to help them connect others to resources and ministries that support and encourage grieving parents.

I hope to have the first ones ready by January.

Look for that announcement here, on the website and on Facebook.

So what can you do to help the ministry continue to grow?

  • PRAY! For wisdom, strength, endurance and obedience to follow the Lord where He leads me. Also pray for every heart seeking solace, that the Lord will bring them to this ministry or one of the many others pointing to the hope found in Jesus Christ.
  • CLICK, CLICK, CLICK! On the website (you don’t even have to read anything) so Google Analytics notices and begins to return it in searches made by bereaved parents.
  • SHARE, SHARE, SHARE! The website, this blog site, the public Facebook page to help get the word out.
  • And, if the Lord leads you to join in this work by giving, you can use this link: https://square.link/u/cNen14Q1

Child loss has been my greatest challenge, my deepest pain and my most profound misery.

But is has also been the very place God has met me with the greatest comfort, the deepest compassion and the most profound revelation of Who He is.

In spite of everything I’ve endured, my hope remains unshaken and unshakeable.

The comfort I have received is now mine to give to others.

I am oh, so grateful for your partnership, prayers and encouragement that is making it possible.

May the Lord richly bless you as you have blessed me.

National Grief Awareness Day

Today is National Grief Awareness Day in the United States.

And while I know there is a “DAY” for everything from the foolish to the monumental, I’d like to ask my non-bereaved friends to pause a moment and truly consider the impact grief has on those around them who have suffered loss.

It’s so easy to dismiss another’s experience when it isn’t your own.

But grief isn’t confined to a moment in time. It doesn’t end because there is a funeral. It changes those left behind for the rest of their lives.

During the course of my lifetime I have seen many topics dragged from behind closed doors out onto the stage and under the public spotlight.

Frankly, some of them could have remained in darkness as far as I’m concerned.

But there is something still taboo in polite conversation–something hushed with awkward silence should it ever be spoken aloud in a crowded room–mention GRIEF and eyes drop to the floor or someone hastily throws an arm around you and says, “There, there–it’s going to be alright.”

I don’t blame them.

In my growing up years I don’t remember anyone speaking about death and grief for longer than the time it took to go to a funeral home visitation and stand by the grave as the casket was lowered in the ground.  

People were designated by their loss:  He was a widower; she lost a child; her mother died when she was young.

But what came AFTER the loss–not a word.

We need to talk about it.  We need to educate ourselves about it.  Because, like my EMT son says, “No one gets out of here alive.”

You WILL experience grief in your lifetime.

I pray that the people you lose are full of years and ready to go–that you get to say “good-bye” and that all the important things have been said and done so that you aren’t left with extra emotional baggage in addition to the sorrow and missing.

But you never know.  Neither you nor I are in control.

And even in the one place where it would seem most natural to talk about life and death and grief and pain–our families and faith communities–it still makes those who are not experiencing it uncomfortable.

Yes, there are grief support groups.  And, yes, they are helpful in ways that only a group made up of people who understand by experience what you are going through can be.

But much of life is spent rubbing elbows with folks unlike ourselves, with parents who know the fear of losing a child but not the awful reality.  And just a little bit of openness, a little bit of education and a little bit of understanding would make such a difference.

If you are a grieving parent, I hope this day and this post will serve as a launchpad for you to have conversations with your own friends and extended family.

If you aren’t a bereaved parent, please commit just the few minutes it takes and consider how you might support someone in your circle of influence who has lost a child.

We don’t want pity.

We aren’t looking for special accommodations that single us out and mark us as “needy”.  

But we long for understanding and compassion and the opportunity to tell our stories.

What Bereaved Parents Need From Extended Family

I get it-you have no clue what it’s like to say good-bye to a life you’ve birthed and fully expected to outlast your own.

I don’t even imagine you can understand because I’m living it and still trying to figure it out.

But there are some things you can do to help me walk this awful and unfathomably painful path.

Please, please, please know that my child is STILL my child. He is still counted in our family’s number. She remains one of the nieces and one of the grandchildren when we diagram our family tree.

So when you talk to others or tally numbers don’t exclude them.

My last earthly child is not an “only child”. Our mother doesn’t just have “one grandson”.

I need you to say his name! I long for you to share a beloved memory without choking out the details like it’s a chore instead of a privilege.

Can we make space for tears and joy in our family celebrations?

Could you message me privately before announcing the joyous news YOUR earthbound child is getting married or having a child so I can prepare my heart for the onslaught of “congratulations” posted across social media?

It’s not that I envy (well, maybe a little) your life.

It’s just that you can’t fathom mine.

I didn’t just lose my child once at a single point in time. I lose him again every time there is a milestone or celebration or moment when he SHOULD be there but isn’t.

I’m not asking you to walk on eggshells. That’s unfair and unfruitful.

I AM asking you to learn a new way of speaking about my child in Heaven.

He still exists.

He still matters.

He’s still very much a part of our family AND yours.

Grieving Siblings: Remembering the Ones Left Behind

I realized the morning I received the news that an important part of my work as a grieving parent was going to be protecting and advocating for my living children.

It’s just so easy to fall into a habit of reciting only the good attributes of the child that has run ahead to heaven and to forget the ornery moments.

But sibling rivalry doesn’t die just because a sibling does.

It’s so, so important to remember that these living children need an engaged mama.  They need to know that they are loved, cherished and treasured.

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.

Read the rest here:  The Forgotten Ones: Grieving Siblings

Eleven Practical (mostly easy) Ways To Help a Grieving Friend

It’s possible to stand frozen at the corner of good intentions and helpful action.

I’ve done it dozens of times.

And every time I’ve allowed myself to swallow “but I don’t know what to do” and done nothing I’ve regretted it.

Every. Single. Time.

So I’m here to tell you that when you get that urge, feel that itch, hear that still, small voice that says, “DO something“, then do it.

You may already have a good idea of what it is you need to do, but in case you don’t know exactly how to make a difference in the life of a heart hanging on by a thread, here are some things to get you started:

Read the rest here: Should I DO Something? Yes. Absolutely.

Making Space for Silence

It’s hard to sit silent in an age when most of us live with noise nearly 24/7.

Out where I live, surrounded by grass and trees and plenty of room between me and my nearest neighbor, I am used to the quiet.

But it makes many folks uncomfortable.

They hasten to fill any empty airspace with chatter or nervous laughter or music or television or just about anything that means they don’t have to listen to their own thoughts.

It can be tempting, when trying to do the work grief requires to chase away the sorrow and pain with noise.

But that’s unhelpful.

Because you can’t really chase grief anywhere.  It’s inside you, part of you, with you wherever you go.

Read the rest here: Silence is a Gift

It’s a High Price to Pay for Wisdom…

I have learned a lot in these ten years since Dominic ran ahead ahead to heaven.

But what a price to pay for wisdom!

It’s certainly not one I’d have agreed to up front.

Yet, here I am, older and oh, so much wiser, than I would have been if I had not buried a child...

I will shout from the rooftops, from the hillsides, from any bit of altitude I can gain that the most important thing in life is love.

Nothing else really matters.

Everything else can be bought and sold.

But love cannot be traded for money-it is priceless, eternal and immortal.

Our bodies don’t last forever, but love does.  

Our hopes may be dashed, but love lives.

Our breath may be exhausted, but love never runs out.

Read the rest here: A High Price to Pay

It Slipped Up On Me: More Than Four Million Visits!

I have to be honest.

When I began writing in this space I thought I might reach family and friends I knew face-to-face (IRL for those of you familiar with social media speak).

I NEVER dreamt I’d reach people in other countries, on every continent, from such varied backgrounds.

But I shouldn’t be surprised.

A fuzzy photo of a map of every country in which at least one person logged onto thelifeididntchoose. From the tip of the world to the bottom, east to west, there are bereaved parents everywhere.


Child loss is (sadly) universal.

It doesn’t respect borders or socio-economic boundaries or age or race. It happens everywhere, every day to so, so many people.

What I’ve always tried to do is be honest and vulnerable.

I’ve exposed my heart and my helplessness. I promised myself and my readers I would not hide a thing.

And I haven’t.



I don’t keep close tabs on things like blog statistics because I don’t monetize it. So it crept up on me one day when I happened to glance at the little footnote on the sidebar there were over 4,000,000 folks who had visited the site.

I’m thankful for every one of you.

I’m thankful for the grief groups that choose to print the posts or share them electronically. I’m thankful for the comments and encouragement from other bereaved parents that fuel my continued resolve to show up and share how grief changes over time (and how it doesn’t).

I’m thankful for the friendships that have been forged over distance and time and the encouragement that flies back and forth in the comments.

I’m still learning so I plan to keep on sharing.

I hope you plan to join me.