Author: Grief Blessings

I often post photos of my daughter at or around her death. I’m not sure if there is any significance to that other than it was how I remember her most. The vibrancy of her soul oozes out of each photo. One might even be able to stare into her eyes and see what a beautiful person she was, inside and out.

In the last months of her life she chose different paths than I would have predicted. She became less focused on material things, which for a teenager seemed a bit out of character. When months before it was “mom, I need this movie or I need a new cell phone” – it was always “I need”. Then the summer before her death she changed. She began to ask “Can I go buy a card and balloon for a friend at school?” or “Can I go read to kindergarteners?” – I remember thinking “who is this child?”. It’s as if her old soul knew that her time was near.

I knew my daughter pretty well, but it was after her death did I understand the beautiful young woman she truly was becoming. Her friends and classmates wrote about her either on her memory board at her Celebration of Life or in cards sent to me in the weeks after. I found out she had a passion to help others who did not feel accepted. She would often come to the “rescue” of student at school and tell people to give them a chance. Perhaps she understood how it felt more than people knew what it was like to be ousted and often times bullied by her peers.

One of her school friends sent me this note and it truly helped me in the weeks and months after Brittany’s death. We had dealt with so much pain and sadness over her school years and I found it touching that perhaps in hindsight people remembered her for who she truly was. Here is a little snippet from that letter:

At 17, Brittany was wise beyond her years and loved with every fiber of her being. All along I thought I was raising my daughter when in fact, she was here to teach me about life. It took her death and the days and weeks after to realize that. In fact, I’m still learning every day what a gift life is and how God moves in ways to create space for learning those valuable lessons.

Perhaps with the busyness of life, school, work and managing a chronic illness – we all got lost in the day-to-day getting by and may have missed those beautiful moments. I was privileged to have been witness to just a few, but I know for sure there were far more than I ever knew.

The lesson here is to stop and enjoy those moments when they happen. Don’t let life get in the way of experiencing who your children are as people. The gifts they are from God, which are lessons for us all to learn. Sometimes the lessons are not comfortable or it seems like the world is against us, but in reality it’s a life lesson to share with others. So put down the phones, the cameras, the videos, work and go out into the world with your children and experience life as it’s happening. It will be in those moments you will come to understand the awesome human being they are and more importantly who you are.

Until next time,

M

Well my friends Mother’s Day is again upon us and for those of us who have come to dread this day because our mothers or children have died and left a sad place in their hearts and no desire to celebrate Mother’s Day, I especially hold you up in prayer.

I know all too well how difficult this day can be and go out of my way to bypass the greeting card section, or flower shops where it’s all about Mother’s Day. The pain cuts too deep still for me. But someone I know on social media posted information that I did not know about the origin of Mother’s Day. I searched for a reliable source to confirm what she posted. And I’ve put a link below for you to copy and paste into your browsers should you be interested in reading it.

Reading the article and post by my friend made me pause for just a minute to understand who inspired Mother’s Day – a grieving mother. And while it does not take the sting away from this day, it does provide a different perspective.

I am always reminded by those in my tribe that I am still celebrated as a mother. And I appreciate that gift because I am grateful and honored to have had the chance to be a mother. I was lucky. I got that chance that many do not of giving birth and raising a child. Some never get that chance.

I lost my mom when I was seven months pregnant with my only child. I lost so much too soon. So, while I choose not to celebrate this day it’s not because I don’t honor her memory – it’s just a sad day for me. I don’t have a mother to celebrate nor do I have any living children. So for me it’s another day in May.

For all of you wonderful mothers, please know I’m holding you up in prayer and thankfulness that you are honored and treasured. Especially for my followers or those who read this post who’ve lost a child, I hold you close to my heart and stand with you each Mother’s Day knowing it’s one of the toughest days we have to face.

Much love and admiration,

M

http://time.com/4771354/mothers-day-history-origins/

The quiet whisper of hope has yet again gotten my attention as we enter into this Easter holiday. Through the death and resurrection of Christ I have been able to grieve and have hope after experiencing the loss of my only child. But that hope was not as present when I lost my mom nearly 30 years ago. What 30 years? I don’t even know how the time just goes by. I don’t remember her voice anymore. I was a mad at God back then. Angry with Him because I just didn’t understand why. Still don’t.

I wrestled with my faith for five long years all while trying to raise my one daughter who had developed epilepsy at the age of five. Also, have I mentioned I was also in nursing school then. It was a rocky time for me. Losing my mom was difficult – I was only 31. I had so much I wanted to share with her – you see, she was my best friend. We talked every day and then she was gone. It was like that part of my life severed from my body.

I suffered in anger for a long time. Then one day she came to me in a dream and told me enough – that she was ok and I needed to be ok too. I was thankful for that visit because it was life changing for me. I could finally process through the stages of grief and move on with life raising a five-year old and finishing nursing school.

Grief has been part of my life for a very long time. I have grieved losing my childhood because of divorce. I grieved the loss of my father who chose to walk away from his family and didn’t care what happened to us. I have grieved the loss of who I was to be when someone took my innocence for their own sick pleasure. I have grieved the loss of having a normal teenage life-like so many of my other friends. I have grieved the loss of my daughter’s life because of the chronic illness that plagued her and the future she was robbed of because of it. In a span of 17 years, I have grieved the loss of a mother, a grandmother and daughter. I have grieved….

I think grief will always be a part of my life. It is in the fabric of who I have become. It became evident I had to lean as hard as I could into God and to let Him take care of me. I could have just given up. I did want to give up sometimes. God has been so very good to me. He has placed the right people in my life and the right time. Who stood me up when I couldn’t stand. Who fed me when I couldn’t eat. Who clothed me when all I wanted was to give up. He also showed me what He gave up so that I could have life. His son.

I understood very clearly one day God knew my pain because He too lost a child. But very quickly He also showed me the hope I needed to grab ahold of and never let go of and that is the resurrection. It is in the resurrection that I have been able to stand up and walk the path of grief and hope. It is every Easter that I am washed over by such grief and joy because of the sacrifice and the promise all in one weekend. It’s not easy my friends, but I do it every day and so can you.

Hope is life-sustaining for grieving souls. Grab onto that hope and this weekend when you go to your church with your family – just imagine the gravity of God’s loss and in raising his son, Jesus, we are all saved. I can only imagine what that day will be when I can stand at the feet of Jesus surrounded by His glory and my family I’ve missed all these years. I can only imagine how wonderful that reunion will be.

That is how I walk through this journey.

Happy Easter

until next time

M

Today at church the message was about how mayhem can derail you on journey in life. Mayhem is everywhere. Mayhem can get in your way and distract you from whatever it is your are trying to achieve. I thought about how relatable it is to grief –  mayhem.

Here I sit another Christmas without you. The 12th to be exact. In remembrance of her I think about one of the funniest videos of her opening presents and putting bows and ribbons all over herself. She loved making people laugh. That was her gift on this earth. She helped us all forget the ravages of her disease and the daily grind of dealing with all the medications, doctor and hospital visits; and things that she struggled to do that many did without even blinking an eye.  She never let it get her down. Maybe for some fleeting moments she questioned “why me” but she entered every day with a smile and gratitude for being alive. Many of us don’t ever understand that.

Gratitude is something we should all stop and consider daily, but especially at Christmas. So much was given so that we could have life. If you’ve lost a child, as many of you who read this blog have, then you know what that pain feels like. God gave his son so that we may live. What a gift that is. I know my Brittany lives in Heaven and sits at the feet of Jesus and while I miss her so much my heart breaks daily in her absence, I am grateful she is with Jesus.

While the memories of Christmas past greet me with joy this holiday season, I am also left gasping for air at the gravity of the space that is vacant now. Christmas is just not the same “holiday” as it once was. It’s different. I continue to celebrate the true meaning of Christmas, but the “holiday” is just not the same. How could it be? It’s hard to explain to anyone who is walking along side me now in this different life. I don’t even understand it so how in the world can I explain it.

I don’t believe it will ever be the same, I mean, how could it? But here is the thing… I am trying hard to make new memories and living out my purpose – still not knowing what that looks like entirely. I’m focusing on what can be and finding ways to honor my daughter’s life. Honoring does not mean woefully spending my life in misery. It means finding purpose for why she was here and how can I lift that up into something meaningful for others. But it does NOT negate the fact that her physical presence has left a devastating mark on my heart and soul. I just can’t live a life in sorrow. It is not at the core of who I am.

Many blessings to you and your families as you celebrate the holidays and it is my hope for you that the new year brings continued healing and purpose.

Until Next Time,

M

I’m sure over the past 11 years I’ve written about the holidays and how my grief journey has played out especially during these very difficult days. The holidays have always been and I imagine always will, the most difficult for me. Unfortunately, my mother’s angel anniversary starts off the season in September followed by my daughter’s angel anniversary in October and capped off by her birthday in late November. By Christmas I am spent grieving OR avoiding grieving.

I have come to dread the holidays. Even though I have learned to live in the reality of loss and grief, I have tried to find some joy during the holiday season. Eleven years later, I can say that it just seems like a different life. My old life ended October 13, 2006 and after the fog lifted, my new life began somewhere down the road. As I look around the room this morning there are few signs of the life I had with my daughter.  I keep my daughter’s memory close by up on the shelf in my living room and in my heart.

 It’s easy to look away or stay busy to keep the swell of grief that sits in my throat on any given day. For the most part that has been my way of avoiding the gravity of her absence. No one realizes just how hard it is to walk through the holidays without her. Visiting family celebrations knowing she won’t be there or that she isn’t even a fleeting thought. But that was my old life and I am very aware that I can’t stay there nor can I afford to ignore what is in front of me. Love is all around me and I am forever thankful for that because it has given me a breath of life.

I have found balance in both worlds and it works – but it’s hard, don’t be mistaken, it’s extremely hard. I stay busy, I work hard and I play hard – why, because it is better than the misery I’m sure would exist if I did not. Ninety-nine percent of the time I am not miserable, I am happy – love and joy has brought me to this point. I am forever grateful for that. I am also grateful for the life before because my time with Brittany, yes, her name is music to my ears. She taught me so much about life and love. I am a better person because of her time here on this earth.

As you navigate this holiday season as a griever, it is my hope that you take pause to say their name, to smile at a memory, to write it down and then to take in a deep breath and let it out. Step into the present and love on all of those around you who need you to be present. It is the greatest gift we can give those who are walking along side us.

Until next time,

M

I woke up this morning knowing I had a blog post to write but sorting it all out just seemed so daunting. I find lately I just don’t want to deal with grief. I have virtually put grief in a closet and locked the door. Grief has changed for me. It has become this dark shadow that looms over me during certain periods of the year.

While I understand that shutting grief out is not the answer – I’m not sure what else I can say or do about my grief. It is what it is. I can’t change what happened. The outcome was not in my control. All I can do is live or die. I chose to live. The conflict is profound.

In Susan Duke’s book “Grieving Forward” which I highly recommend, she speaks about embracing life, while not easy because our hearts are full of grief and regret. Realizing that we cannot change and acceptance is key to move forward. Acceptance I think is one of the last phases that we go through on our grief journey.

While I miss my daughter far beyond any words can define, I cannot stay there. I wrestled with the concept that if I moved on, it meant I would forget about her. That is further from the truth. I remember her often, but the grief, the grief has become too much of a burden for me. I can’t do it anymore.

I prayed for so long to find purpose in all the grief and loss I’d had over my entire life. My daughter’s death is just one of many losses, the most profound, but not the only one. I’ve learned to live with grief for a very long time. It has become part of my story and a part of my soul. I have vacillated between the swell of pain in my heart and the sweet memories of my daughter, my mom and grandmothers. I wasn’t sure I’d make it out of the darkness of pain and grief.

Let me be very clear here. I’d never, ever, chose to have never experienced the greatest gift of motherhood which gives such unconditional love. I understood the unconditional love I had for my mom and that she had for me. It was a lesson I had to learn. The joys and sorrows of parenthood were the character building blocks of my adulthood. They have molded me into the person I am today. I am thankful for all of that love and the memories.

Life has moved forward for me because I chose to allow love back into my life. That was the healing I needed to see beyond  my own pain. Moving on does not equate to forgetting the past. It just puts it into a place where I manage my grief, good or bad, it’s manageable. Joy has returned. But the pain is still very present. I would not have traded that time in my life, being the mother of my sweet Brittany. It’s been the most honorable thing I’ve ever done.

The verse in Susan’s book (below) really completes this for me.

Until next time,

M

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever. – Psalm 30:11-12

I hope you all have noticed by now I have been working on a new design for my blog. It started out a bit dark and gloomy and while grief can be that on any given day; I wanted to bring a little more light to the site.

Changing the outside seems so much easier than the inside when it comes to growth and maturity in the grieving process. That is no different than this website. Just like my grief journey – this website has matured and while still a little weathered, is still my story. It’s my experience to unimaginable loss and navigating my way through it.

The content is still relevant. It’s a true depiction of what I’ve experienced over the past 11 years since my daughter’s passing. It clearly shows the evolution of my grief. What I’m not saying is that it’s somehow better. That my life without Brittany is better. It is not. But what I am saying is that life can have joy again but it’s different. It’s not the same life. You cannot compare the two.

The old life is what it is …. the old life. A life that has passed. Still lived but passed. And that my dear friends is why we will battle with grief all of our days. Once we understand that we can rebuild a life anew along with fond memories of the past. I will always have my bad days – days when I just don’t want to get up. I have less of those now and more days where I want to not only get up but get out and see the world and experience life. That is the lesson I learned from my daughter – live life to the fullest!

Until next time,

M