Dear Mama,
I know that you never-in your wildest imagination-thought you would need a day set aside for your broken heart and your empty arms.
Who thinks when they learn a new life is growing inside that this same life might be cut short? What heart is brave enough to consider the possibility?
Yet here you are.
I’m so, so sorry.
But there are a few things I want you to know.
Read the rest here: International Bereaved Mother’s Day: An Open Letter to my Fellow Sisters in Loss
This weekend I am privileged to be sharing both my hurt and my healing with fellow bereaved parents.
I can’t say there haven’t been tears but I can tell you there’s also been laughter.
There is great solace in reaching out your hand and having it gripped by an understanding soul. None of us wants to be alone in this journey.
You don’t have to be.
❤ Melanie
A sweet friend made sure I had Nicholas Wolterstorff’s book, Lament for a Son, in my hands just days after Dominic’s accident. And it was one of the most helpful, kindest gifts I ever received.
It still lives by my chair and I look at it often.
It might have been the similarities in circumstances that took our sons-his died in a mountain climbing accident, mine in a motorcycle accident-or it might have been our shared theology, but when I read his words, they spoke my heart.
Read the rest here: Visible Wounds
Today is National Siblings Day. It’s fun for those of us who haven’t had to bury a brother or sister to post silly photos and memories.
But for those who have lost a sibling today is bittersweet.
Want to know how to love someone who is missing a brother or sister?
Ask them for a favorite memory. Tell them you recognize it hurts. Don’t dismiss their grief and rush to ask about a surviving mother or father.
Love them. Be there.
❤ Melanie
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
I woke this morning to a frantic voice mail left overnight when my phone was on sleep mode which silences all but my few “favorites” from ringing through.
A precious young woman from my family’s past was reaching out because she knew I was a safe person. I wish I had been able to talk to her when she needed me most but I was left with the only option available: call her back and leave a voice mail message.
It’s a poor substitute for being there when someone is hanging on by a thread.
It made me think of the dozens of ways my children and I have learned to “be there” for broken hearts and broken lives.
It’s an easy yes for any one of us when someone calls and says, “Can you talk?”.
Even when it’s inconvenient or worse, we answer the phone and allow that heart to spill its contents until there is some relief and possibly some way forward.
Some days I’m tapped out.
I may not haul feed bags or lift boxes but my heart is wrung dry by mid-morning.
Hours long telephone conversations in which there is no real answer and no way to untangle complex webs of addiction or family history or personal trauma leave me needing a nap.
I try to take a break when I need to and come back fresh when I can.
In this Season of Sorrow I have a little less to give.
But I am committed to helping other broken hearts limp along toward healing for as long as I am able.
So many have helped me.
I want to share the gift. ❤
I hurt for hearts who enter the long road of child loss without the support of really, truly friends.
I have been blessed for nearly ten years with two precious hearts who- even though they have been spared the pain of child loss- chose to walk alongside me.
These women right here.
They came alongside and helped me remember that light still existed when darkness was all I could feel and all I could see.
They brought lunch to my home- over an hour away- and loved me, listened to me, didn’t toss Bible verses or correct me. They were much better friends than the ones who joined Job on the ash heap.
I can never repay the debt I owe them.
I’m so thankful that we are aging together and will spend eternity proving that grace, love and the Gospel transform hearts and lives.
I love y’all. ❤️❤️
I love that social media and online resources mean no bereaved parent has to feel alone or be alone.
But as we learned during the long years of forced isolation, there’s really no substitute for a hug and an in-person smile. There is just something amazing that happens when someone literally comes alongside and says, “Me too.”
That’s why I am excited to be part of an upcoming conference offered by Our Hearts Are Home, an organization founded by fellow bereaved parents, Gary and Laura House.
Y’all know that I don’t do a lot of in-person retreats or conferences.
Even though I love the energy and connection, life has been so demanding and often chaotic for the past several years, I simply couldn’t commit to something weeks or months down the road. The stress of worrying about having to back out at the last minute was too much.
So when I pulled out my calendar and wrote (in ink!) that I would be part of this conference it was a BIG DEAL. It was also a leap of faith-faith in God giving me the words and faith in trusting someone else to shape a space where I could speak them.
I’m as vulnerable as the next bereaved parent.
Years of spilling my experience across the Internet haven’t really made it any easier to do it in person and in public. I’m much more comfortable writing in the quiet of my own home at the kitchen table where I get second chances and can edit what is ultimately shared with others.
Still, this opportunity was one I didn’t want to miss.
Along with sharing our stories, the parents participating in the panel of presenters will be sharing our hearts, our faith journeys and the words and practices that have helped us hold onto hope in the midst of life’s greatest heartache and challenge.
It will be a unique combination of authentic experience and exhortation from those who are living with child loss and who also love Jesus.
I understand if you are too early in this journey to even consider gathering in a room with others who have the same heartache.
It was a long time before I could do that. But may I encourage you to consider taking part online? Or, if you are just beginning to feel a tiny stir in your spirit that says, “Go ahead! It might do you good!” then sign up and join us face-to-face.
I can’t promise there won’t be tears but I CAN promise there will be joy and laughter. Some of the best, most life-affirming moments I’ve had since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven were in the company of others who are missing their Heaven-dwelling children too.
So if your aching heart and weary soul are searching for a safe space to be encouraged, uplifted and filled with honest answers along with biblical truth, please consider joining me for this event.
I’m confident you won’t be disappointed.
Here’s the link: https://ourheartsarehome.org/conference
P.S. If you are interested in “meeting” some of us who will be there, you can find several of our stories in the book published and edited by Gary and Laura here: https://www.amazon.com/Until-Then-Stories-Loss-Hope/dp/B0BFF2LVBL
It took me a long time before I wanted to gather in a room with other bereaved parents.
My son’s death had undone me and I had no capacity for other people’s raw grief where I might not have an escape.
I wish I hadn’t been so reluctant and waited so long because what I found when I finally walked into the in-person community of other moms and dads who shared my loss, it was life giving, uplifting and utterly amazing.
So I want to extend an invitation to fellow broken hearts who hope for hope:
WHO? Bereaved parent & grandparents, and anyone who wants to better know how to comfort a grieving friend
WHAT? Our Hearts Are Home Spring Conference
WHEN? April 12-13, 2024
WHERE? Online or In Person (Free option available.)
(If you can’t come on those days, you’ll receive all of the session recordings that remain available for two weeks following the conference.)
Read the session details and register at: ourheartsarehome.org/conference
I’ll be sharing in a couple of the main sessions and leading a breakout session on bereaved siblings. AND there will be many opportunities to chat informally around meals and other unstructured times.
This is NOT your typical “Christian Conference” where what’s shared is memorized and rehashed in city after city. This is a unique opportunity to interact with parents who are walking the same broken road as you and are willing to reveal the ups and downs, ins and outs of navigating child loss. (My husband will be there too, bereaved dads!)
The cost is minimal although I know travel expenses may make attending in person out of the question for some of y’all. (Online option available!)
I would LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to meet (in the flesh!) anyone who has joined me here online.
You have no idea how often your words of encouragement have helped me hold onto hope.
So if you can, join us.
You may be nervous up to the very minute you show up or log on but I PROMISE you will not regret it.
See you there!
In the last post I shared the difference between mourning and grief. While the outward ceremonies have long passed, the inward struggle to embrace and understand the pain and sorrow of losing my son continues.
If you love someone who has lost a child, perhaps these thoughts might help you understand a bit of their pain and how completely it changes the way bereaved parents encounter the world.
Please be patient. Please don’t try to “fix” us. Please be present and compassionate. And if you don’t know what to say, feel free to say nothing-a hug, a smile, an understanding look-they mean so very much.
❤ Melanie
A bereaved parent’s grief doesn’t fit an easy-to-understand narrative. And it flies in the face of the American “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality.
You can’t beat it–it’s not a football game-there is no winning team.
You can’t lose it–it’s not the extra 10 pounds you’ve been carrying since last Christmas.
You can’t get over it–it’s not a teenage love affair that will pale in comparison when the real thing comes along.
You can only survive it. You can heal from it, but it will take a lifetime and require very special care.
Read the rest here: Loving Well: Understanding the Grieving Heart
Since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven, I find I need even more alone time than before.
That quiet place is where I do my most effective grief work, undisturbed by interruptions and distractions.
But I need to be careful that solitude doesn’t shift into isolation.
Read the rest here: Solitude or Isolation? Which is it?
I know that when I first stumbled onto a bereaved parent group, it was one of the things I was looking for: evidence that the overwhelming pain of child loss would not last forever.
Some days I was encouraged as those who had traveled farther down this path posted comments affirming that they could feel something other than sorrow.
Some days I was devastated to read comments from parents who buried a child decades ago asserting that “it never gets better”.
Who is right?
What’s the difference?
Do I have any control over whether or not this burden gets lighter?
Read the rest here: Will It Ever Get Better?
thelifeididntchoose 