Tag: grief work

Webinar: Remembering Our Children During the Holidays

I barely remember the very first holiday season after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

What I DO remember is that it was nearly as hard as the day we laid him to rest.

I had no idea how to carry this heartache into a season of light and laughter. There just didn’t seem to be any room for grief at the table.

Eleven years later and I’m a little better at it.

You can find many posts about Grief and Holidays on this site. Many of you have read them and I pray they help your hearts.

This year, I’m excited to be partnering with a sister ministry, http://ourheartsarehome.org, to offer a webinar on November 7th from 7:30-8:30 PM (EST).

I and several other seasoned bereaved parents will share a bit about how to navigate this difficult time of year AND how to include our children in family gatherings.

It promises to be a time of encouragement and hope.

It is absolutely free and open to anyone. You do need to register though.

If you’d like to participate, use this link to sign up: https://ourheartsarehome.org/remembering-our-children

Folks Ask, “How ARE You Doing?” Some Days I Still Struggle.

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 ten 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.

Some days 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

Can I Hold On If There is Silence From Heaven?

It took me awhile to “feel” God again after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

I would journal my thoughts/prayers/questions and answer myself with Scripture.

My heart was still so very shattered that the words often slid right off.

Read the rest here: What If There’s Silence From Heaven?

No Matter How Much It Cost Me, I’d Still Choose You

Some of us only felt tiny hands and feet pressing against the inside of our body.  

Some of us saw first steps or first grade.  

Some of us watched our child drive away to college certain it was the beginning of an adventure, not the beginning of the end.

Read the rest here: I’d Still Choose You

Even If You’ve Heard It, I NEED to Tell the Story

I have so much more empathy for older folks since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.

I’ve always tried to be a patient listener when hearing that same story over and over and over but have to admit that sometimes I’d drift off or internally mock an elder because I was tired of hearing it.

Not anymore.

Because I understand now that it’s in the telling that one both commemorates and honors people as well as the past.

Read the rest here: I Need To Tell The Story (Even If You’ve Heard It Before)

I Depend on Flickers of Light to Guide My Heart Home

A fellow bereaved mom commented on my recent holiday post with this question: How do you make joy, when your heart has no joy?

It was a good and honest query. One that stopped me in my tracks.

Read the rest here: Flickers Of Light, Guiding My Heart Home

Grievers REALLY Need Faithful Friends!

We all know how it is-you move, you lose an address or phone number, you lose touch. 

But sometimes friendships end more abruptly-not because lives drifted apart but because one person became so uncomfortable she chose to walk the other way.

That’s what happens so often the other side of child loss.  Friends disappear because loss makes them profoundly uncomfortable.  

Read the rest here: HELP WANTED: Why Grievers Need Faithful Friends

Selfcare is SO Important for Grieving Hearts

Every family is different. Every loss experience is unique.

Some of us have busy households when one of our children leave for Heaven and some of us are long past full tables and messy teen bedrooms.

Wherever we find ourselves when the unthinkable overtakes us, it’s always hard to continue doing daily tasks bearing a burden of sorrow. So often we settle into a pattern of striving and straining through the deep mire of grief without making time for rest.

I know I did.

Goodness! I still experience seasons when grief waves steal what little breath is left from a breathless and busy life and I can barely function.

It’s then I remind my heart that self care isn’t selfish. It’s necessary.

Absolutely, positively necessary.

❤ Melanie

Looking back I’m shocked at how much I allowed societal norms and expectations to determine how I grieved Dominic’s death.

I withheld grace from myself that I would have gladly and freely given to another heart who just buried a child. Somehow I thought I had to soldier on in spite of the unbearable sorrow, pain, horror and worldview shattering loss I was enduring.

And the further I got from the date of his accident, the more I expected from myself.

Read the rest here: Self Care in Grief

Falling Leaves -How Autumn Affects My Heart

We think people live to the fullness of years.  They begin in spring and pass through all the seasons before the cold winter claims them.

old-lady

But some survive only one season, or two–never enjoying the fruitful harvest of the latter years the younger years of hard work are meant to produce.

Read the rest here: Falling Leaves

Gap’s Still Growing: Trying to Remember in a World That Forgets

I’ve written before about how I choose to leave some things just as Dominic left them-even over eight years later.

It’s my way of maintaining physical space in our home that represents the space in my heart where only he can fit.

It’s also more than that.

As time progresses, nearly every other tangible evidence that Dominic existed is being worn away.

Read the rest here: And The Gap Grows: Trying To Remember In a World That Forgets