It may seem like the easiest way to get an inside scoop on how I’m REALLY doing-but don’t do it.
Please don’t ask my kids how I’m doing.
Respect the fact that they have their own grief burden. Respect family privacy and understand you are putting them in an impossible position.
Read the rest here: Please Don’t Ask My Kids How I Am Doing
Let me just say up front I don’t believe in luck or karma or anything like that.
I believe in a Sovereign God who can (at any moment) intervene and sometimes does but who, in general, allows humans to make free will choices and lets the world run according to natural laws He set in motion at the beginning.
That said, I do have a kind of superstitious personal habit of refusing to speak aloud any hope one week, month or year might be “easy” or “good”. Because for decades our days, weeks, months and years have snowballed into a chaotic blur combining lovely moments (birth of grandchildren and a few others) with stress-filled and often life-changing events barely leaving time to catch our breath before the next one comes barreling down the pike.
So when, in late January, I declared February a “month at home” and a “month of rest” I knew better.
I’ve shared earlier that I was diagnosed with Covid Sunday, January 29th. Truly, I have not felt worse within recent memory but am so, so thankful for vaccinations (which did not prevent me from getting it but definitely impacted the severity!) and modern medicine. Both of these meant my extremely exhausted body (just came off nearly three weeks tending my two grandboys plus a week long trip to my dad’s) and immunocompromised state did not end up in the hospital or with awful complications.
My whole family ultimately succumbed to the nasty bug-including my 87 year old dad (who was the first soldier down).
What I haven’t shared is that last Thursday evening I got a call from Papa who was in his local Emergency Room, alone and fitted out for what they thought would be emergency surgery for a non-Covid related situation.
Still talking to him, I rise from my comfy post-supper chair in front of the TV and start tossing clothes in my suitcase (only partially unpacked because, well, Covid) because I’m coming!!!
Calls go out to kids, my husband agrees to stay home and tend animals and we are off within forty-five minutes of the call.
Thankfully, after careful reexamination of imaging, observation of vital signs and a surgeon willing to let Papa decide to take a risk waiting until morning while remaining hospitalized and on IV antibiotics, we avoided emergency surgery.
Fiona, Julian and I arrived Thursday night and got a few hours sleep before showing up early Friday to reassess the situation and help Papa figure out a plan going forward.
He was able to come home with us-weak, tired and on medication-with serious admonitions to take it easy for a few days.
I cannot adequately express the love, gratitude and sheer pride I have for my kids and their willingness to drop everything and come running. They’ve gained this knowledge at a terrible price. I could not have navigated this last, frightening incident without their help and wisdom.
I’m deeply grateful it turned out to be a tiny blip instead of a giant health crisis.
I’m overwhelmed by the outpouring of prayer and concern from folks near and far.
If you are so inclined, pray for a teeny, tiny break for me and my family. We are really kind of worn out.
I’m looking forward (shhhh!!!) to a quieter latter half of February.
Stay tuned for some new posts I’ve been working on and for another trip through Lent together coming soon. ❤
I shared this for the first time six years ago.
Before my mother’s illness and death, before the frighteningly early arrival of our little Captain and his brother, before an overseas deployment, a destructive hurricane, Covid19, my husband’s cancer diagnosis and too many other stressful events to list.
I have watched my kids meet every challenge-sometimes with grace, sometimes with grit, sometimes with both.
They are different people than they would have been if Dominic still walked beside us. They know things their peers can’t even guess.
We all lost so much when we lost Dom. But we still have each other.
And that’s a treasure.
❤
I never thought it possible to love you more than I already did.
But I do.
Your brother’s untimely departure has opened my heart in a whole new way to the glory that is your presence. It has made me drink you in like water in the desert.
Read the rest here: A Letter To My Living Children*
*I am absolutely convinced that Dominic is very much ALIVE today in the presence of Jesus. But for now, I’m denied his daily companionship.
Child loss is also often sibling loss.
In addition to their own heartache, bereaved parents carry the heartache of their surviving children.
The family everyone once knew is now a family no one recognizes. Hurting hearts huddle together-or run and hide-and it is so, so hard to find a way to talk about that pain.
Read the rest here: Grief is a Family Affair
One of the trickiest parts of life as a bereaved parent is navigating the space between our surviving children and the giant hole left by the one (or more) who have run ahead to Heaven.
There are so many ways I might cling too hard to what’s lost and not lean hard enough into what continues to bring blessing and beauty to everyday life.
I’ve learned it’s best to find quiet moments in which I can journal the feelings that might be unhelpful or downright hurtful to express to others.
❤ Melanie
One of the commitments I made out loud and in my heart the day Dominic left us was this: I was not going to let his death tear my family apart.
I was not going to let him become the sainted brother that stood apart and above his siblings.
I was going to continue to give as much of my time, effort, love and presence to each of the three I had left as I had done when there were four on earth beside me.
I’ve been more or less successful in keeping this promise.
Read the rest here: Child Loss: Setting Aside Time To Grieve Helps My Heart Hold On
I first shared this post in 2016 when we had muddled through the first two holiday seasons after Dominic left us and were headed for a third.
Now facing our ninth, there are some things that have changed a lot (adding grandchildren and losing my mama) and some things that remain the same (the ongoing struggle to balance everyone’s needs and expectations with the reality of sorrow).
I still find the principles I outlined years ago to be the best way to approach the season. We certainly don’t always get it right but we continue to strive to honor one another, to honor the true meaning of Christmas and to honor Dominic.
❤ Melanie
How do I honor the child for whom memories are all I have and love well the children with whom I am still making memories?
That’s a question I ask myself often.
And it is especially difficult to answer for celebrations and holidays, special events and birthdays.
Read the rest here: Surviving Siblings and Christmas
Life is complicated, isn’t it?
Even if I could erase loss from our family’s story, we’d still be muddling through the holidays trying to meet needs, expectations and holiday hopes all while juggling schedules and unwanted surprises.
Add child loss and sibling loss to the mix and there’s potential for a real mess!
So one of the things I’ve learned on this journey is I have to ask-and ask again-what my surviving children want and need for the holidays.
And then I have to LISTEN well.
We certainly haven’t managed holidays since Dom left us with grace and aplomb. In fact, some have been downright awful.
But we are still trying to make space and give grace so they are less stressful and more joy-filled.
❤ Melanie
I have never wanted to make my life journey with blinders on. I realized young that MY perspective is not the only one. I understand that more clearly now.
So I try hard to think about, acknowledge and accommodate the feelings and needs of others.
But it’s especially challenging since Dominic left us. And doubly so this time of year when every sight, smell and song screams, “It’s the holidays and HE IS NOT HERE!“
I may not be as thoughtful to some in my circle as want to be, but I will expend every ounce of energy and effort I can muster to make space for my living children’s needs during this season.
Read the rest here: Holidays and Grief: Surviving Siblings
Grieving parents often face the additional challenge of trying to help their surviving children process the death of a sibling.
While there are many factors that influence how a particular child understands and works through his or her grief, age at time of bereavement plays a significant role.
Children’s grief can look very different than that of the adults around them.
And that grief may resurface later on as the child grows and matures, even long after the death of a loved one.
Read the rest here: Sibling Grief Reactions By Age Group
I think often about the things my children know that others don’t have to know.
The fact that life is precious, short and never guaranteed no matter how young or healthy you may be.
The reality that doing everything right or keeping your nose clean or staying “prayed up” doesn’t guarantee you’ll be spared from death, destruction or devastation.
It’s true that several generations ago folks grew up knowing all these things as a matter of course. But we’ve forgotten so much of this with antibiotics, life extending interventions, emergency medicine and abundant food, water and other resources.
I never interact with my earthbound kids without thinking about all the ways we are changed because death has invaded our home and our lives.
❤ Melanie
My youngest son worked hard to retrieve some precious digital photos from an old laptop.
Being very kind, he didn’t tell me that we might have lost them until he was certain he had figured out a way to get them back.
So he and I had a trip down memory lane the other evening.
It was a bumpy ride.
Read the rest here: Mind the Gap
I want to be everything my living children need me to be.
I try hard to celebrate them, be available, listen closely and love them well.
I never, ever want them to feel they are competing with their missing brother for my affection or my attention.
But I’d be lying if I said it was always easy.
Read the rest here: Crossroads: Celebrations After Child Loss
thelifeididntchoose 