Tag: grief journey

Grief On Display: August Through the Years

I’m doing this as much for ME as for anyone else-going through seven plus years of blog posts to take stock of how my grief journey has changed over time.

I thought it would be helpful to some newcomers (both to the site and to the path) and to those who’ve been around since the beginning to look back and take stock.

For those who are fresh on this road, I pray they are encouraged to know they are not alone. For those who’ve traveled far, I pray they recognize the many ways they have grown stronger and better able to carry this burden.

So here are the blog posts for this date, in order, from 2016 through 2022. When there were duplicates (because I had reposted a previous entry) I am leaving it out.

2016: Prayers I Still Pray

As I mentioned yesterday, prayer after loss is complicated for me.  I wrote a post months ago The Problem of [Un]Answered Prayer that addressed this.

But I AM able to pray Scripture-especially the prayers of Paul, which are centered on asking God to strengthen others and to expand their understanding of His love, compassion, power and grace.

Read the rest here: Prayers I Still Pray, Part II

2017

Obviously, this particular post is dated. But I’m including it because it was the first time I’d been asked to speak instead of WRITE about my loss. It was a great step of faith and I am thankful I did it.

My mother was gravely ill (she lived 2 more years but we weren’t certain at the time) and it was a long and arduous journey to Arkansas (not by miles but by emotional endurance).

I was able to hug the necks-for the first time- of so many fellow loss parents who had encouraged and strengthened me.

❤

If you are a bereaved parent and can fly,

drive

or walk to Hot Springs, Arkansas October 6-7

you will want to make the journey

Read the rest here: Amazing *FREE* Opportunity for Bereaved Parents

2018: Trusting God After Loss-Why It’s Hard, Why It’s Necessary

One of the greatest challenges I faced this side of child loss was finding a space where I could speak honestly and openly about my feelings toward God and about my faith.

So many times I was shut down at the point of transparency by someone shooting off a Bible verse or hymn chorus or just a chipper, “God’s in control!”

They had NO IDEA how believing that (and I do!) God is in control was both comforting and utterly devastating at the very same time.

It took me awhile to revisit the basic tenets of my faith and tease out what was truly scriptural and what was simply churchy folklore. 

Read the rest here: Trusting God After Loss: Why It’s Hard, Why It’s Necessary

2019: Safe In My Daddy’s Arms

When I was a little girl my family made a yearly pilgrimage to the white sand and clear water beaches in Florida.

We were allowed to wade out on our own as high as our waist while the adults talked and sunbathed on shore. If we wanted to go deeper, even for those of us who were good swimmers, we had to wait for the grown ups to join us.

I have a vivid memory of one sunny day when the waves were rolling in and my six-foot-tall dad was standing neck deep in the Gulf. I was a little closer to shore and decided to join him.

My young mind didn’t do the math between my short self and his taller one and stepped off an underwater ledge into water way over my head. I panicked when I realized there was no way for me to save myself.

Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: Safe In My Daddy’s Arms

2020: I Really DO Get It

I write a lot about what bereaved parents (me!) wish others knew or understood about child loss and this Valley we are walking.  And I am thankful for every person outside the child loss community who chooses to read and heed what I write.

But I want to take a minute to tell those of you who are not part of this awful “club” that I get it-I really do get it–when you need to put distance between yourself and me or other people walking a broken road.

We all love to think that life is a never-ending ascent toward bigger, better and more enjoyable moments.

Our children are born and we think only of their future, not their future deaths.

Read the rest here: I Get It-I Really DO Get It.

2021: Reaching For Jesus in the Midst of Sorrow

Life after child loss is full of seeming contradictions.

I am broken yet God is redeeming those fragments and reassembling a life of beauty and meaning.

The cracks are visible but they haven’t disqualified me as a vessel that can hold His love, His grace, His mercy and pour all that out on others.

I’m often scared, but am able to walk into each day brave in the knowledge I don’t walk alone.

Read the rest here: Scared and Brave: Reaching For Jesus in the Midst of Sorrow

2022: Choosing Transparency

Needless to say I’m still here.

But I think it’s important to document my own self-doubt and my weariness.

Maybe it’s something about the heat of August or maybe it’s just the too-early appearance of holiday decorations reminding my heart another frenetic season is just around the corner.

Whatever the reason, this month seems to always be one of reflection.

❤ Melanie

It will soon be seven years since I started writing in this space and I have to say, it’s been such a blessing to share the good, the bad, the ugly and the desperate with hearts that choose to come alongside and encourage me!

But I’m tired.

I’m just not certain I can keep pumping out (even recycled) posts every single day.

Read the rest here: Choosing Transparency

Christmas 2022: 25 Ways to Give Holiday Hope to the Grieving

This is the ninth Christmas without Dominic. There really are no words to describe the intersection of holiday cheer and another milestone in this journey of child loss.

I’m not sad all the time-far from it. Often I am very, very happy.

But I will never stop missing him, missing the family we used to be and missing our blissful ignorance of how quickly and utterly life can change in an instant.

And I will never outgrow the need to have others remember him as well, to encourage my heart and the hearts of my family members and to help us make it through another year, another Christmas. 

Here are some great ways to do it:  25 Ways to Give Holiday Hope to the Grieving

Children’s Grief Awareness Day 2022

Last Thursday was Children’s Grief Awareness Day.

I missed posting then but it’s too important to forget!

I’m thankful a day is set aside to focus on children’s grief because it’s so easy for their grief to be overlooked, underrated and even dismissed.

Grown ups often tout the line, “Kids are resilient. They will adapt.”

And while it’s true that from the OUTSIDE it might look like a child is OK or even thriving, on the INSIDE she may be curled up into a ball or he may be angry and resentful.

Read the rest here: Children’s Grief Awareness Day

No Two Grief Journeys Are The Same

It’s a nearly universal human tendency to try to fit another’s experience into our own.

Even though I try hard not to, I still often find myself saying things like, “I know just how you feel” or, “This worked for me, it ought to work for you”.

Trouble is, grief is as individual as a fingerprint.

Read the rest here: Grief Is As Individual As A Fingerprint

Child Loss: Nothing “Normal” About It

I first shared this post in 2016 when I deeply resented anyone trying to tell me there would eventually be a “new normal” to this long road of sorrow and missing.

Since then I would say that I can concede there is a kind of “normal” that eventually takes over a life-even a life shattered by loss.

No matter how tempting it might be to climb under the covers and hide away in my room, biding time until it’s MY time, I can’t.

And little by little, the ordinary (and extraordinary) habits, pressures and circumstances of walking in the world require more and more of my attention forcing me to sequester Dominic’s absence to a part (instead of the whole) of my waking existence.

But I will tell you today-over eight years later-that there is STILL absolutely, positively NOTHING “normal” about my beautiful boy being here one moment and gone the next.

❤ Melanie

Something you hear early on in this grief journey is that one day you will find a “new normal”.

I hate that phrase.

Because while I have certainly developed new routines, new ways of dealing with life, new methods for quelling the tears and the longing and the sorrow and the pain-it is NOT normal.

Read the rest here: Nothing “Normal” About It

Self Talk and Grief-It Matters A Lot!

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: Why Self Talk Matters

When Sleep Isn’t Enough: Soul Weary

In yesterday’s post I shared how adjusting my focus and speaking truth and hope to my heart makes such a difference!

But sometimes, no matter how hard I try to “keep my chin up” or “remind myself of redemption”, my soul gets weary.

I’ve recently come off of several months of activity along with emotionally charged interactions and I. am. worn. out.

There’s not really a good or easy way to describe this kind of bone-deep tiredness to someone who has not walked the path we’ve walked so I usually settle for, “I’m tired”. That’s when they typically suggest I get more rest or take a nap.

But I know that won’t really help.

❤ Melanie

When I say to someone, “I’m so very tired!” they nearly always suggest a nap.  Trust me, if a nap would erase this soul weariness, I’d take one every single day.

But it doesn’t, so I don’t.

Instead I go outside and breathe some fresh air, make a cup of hot tea and sit down with a good book, or just sit down and watch the Christmas lights or a candle with my cat in my lap.

Read the rest here: When Sleep Won’t Fix It

Grief Brain-Eight Years and Counting

When I first became aware that Grief Brain was a real thing, it was a blessed relief!

I had long known that physical, mental or emotional stress could alter thinking and make it hard to remember things but I had never experienced such inability to hold even the most basic information in my head or found it nearly impossible to complete simple daily tasks.

It was truly frightening.

And it made life extremely hard.

I think the really, truly awful period of confusion, memory loss and difficulty lasted a good couple of years-not every day as bad as the next or the one before-but it was fairly consistent. I had to use lists, alarms and strict habits (like where I put my keys, the route I took somewhere, etc.) to make it through.

Now, eight years later, it’s not nearly as bad.

That’s partly because I’ve become so good at relying on aids and helps like alarms and calendars and partly because I’ve gotten better at keeping the constant hum of loss compartmentalized in my brain so I can actually think of something else.

But if there is any added stress in the system I regress.

I forget words, names, places, why I’ve walked into a room, where I’m going, what I’m doing and (much to my horror) food in the oven or on the stove.

So if you are in the early days of loss and wonder, wonder, wonder if you are losing your mind, odds are-you aren’t.

It’s just Grief Brain.

It WILL get better.

In the meantime, use whatever helps you do what you have to do.

And be kind to yourself.

Struggling With Others’ Expectations in Grief

I hate microwaves that have the “quick minute” presets! 

It takes MORE time for me to undo that feature and tap in how long I want to nuke my food than it would if it weren’t set up that way.

And sometimes I feel as if “undoing” is a great deal of what I do as a griever.

I have to dispel others’ expectations of what I should be feeling, doing or thinking.

I have to help them understand that unless you have been here, you CAN’T understand.

I pray they never understand.

Read the rest here: The Problem With Microwave Presets: Struggling with Others’ Expectations in Grief

How Are You Doing? I Don’t Really Know.

I first shared this post all the way back in 2016.

Most people I knew had experienced my son’s death as a moment in time, a single event, a date on the calendar but for me and my family it was an ongoing event.

His absence continued to shape our lives in ways we couldn’t have imagined in the immediate aftermath of his accident.

Folks (meaning well but clueless) often began conversations with, “How are you doing?”.

What I really wanted to tell them was I had absolutely, positively NO IDEA but usually settled for, “As well as can be”.

Over eight years later I can say that most days are pretty good. I’ve learned to navigate the rocky territory of child loss and only rarely fall into a pit of despair.

But I’d still say that I don’t really know HOW I’m doing it-just that I AM doing it.

❤ Melanie

People see me, these years and months after Dominic left us and ask, “How are you doing?”

I come up with an answer because that’s the law of conversation-you ask something and I answer, then I ask something and you answer.

are-you-ok

Gotta keep that ball rolling.  

If it drops we are both forced to stand there wondering what to do with our bodies, our faces and our thoughts.

But right now, I don’t know HOW I’m doing.

Read the rest here: I Don’t Know How I’m Doing