Category: death

Forgive and Remember

Grief Blessings3 Comments

I have been away from writing for three weeks now as I’ve had some life changing moments to get through. Now I will return to the book “A grace disguised” by Jerry Sittser and proceed to look at the various ways a grieving soul moves through the journey after a loss.

Chapter 10 – Forgive and Remember

Perhaps my avoidance of this chapter indicates that I still am in the process of forgiving the people who were involved with my daughter’s care during the  months prior to her death. I have come to know that forgiveness is a process just like grieving. It takes time and you take steps backwards and sometimes you just can’t move. It has been for in those moments I have had to cling to God. But as you will find out later, forgiveness or the lack thereof, isn’t easy, nor is it a one-time deal.

Sittser talks about those of us who have experienced a loss, tragic, random or premeditated look to  have revenge or justice in order to feel that our loss has been heard. I can remember there have been so  many times in  my life that I have chosen not to forgive. And because of that I suffered more. The relationships that were involved were broken and have remained broken to this day. Despite finally forgiving those who have hurt me over the many years – it came too late for save the relationship.

Shortly after Brittany’s death I was struggling with how I felt about the medical professionals who were involved with Brittany’s care. I was angry at them because I felt they gave up on  her. Not once did I, her mother, ever give up on her. But they didn’t seem to care or so it appeared by their lack of persistence on finding out what was wrong. To  me it just seemed as though they took the short way out and covered it all up with medication. I knew it wasn’t the right decision. And I felt powerless to fight it.

The pain of that anger is still very present as I write this because tears are flowing effortlessly down my face. The power of being powerless is staggering. It was the first time in my life that I can recall feeling hopeless and helpless and it made me angry. I wanted to know why they gave up. Why couldn’t they find something to fix her. Why did they just send us home and not explain what happened.

In the weeks after her death I wrote a long letter to her primary neurologist. In that letter I told him how I felt, how I trusted him because he begged me to trust him just three years prior and I did. That letter was very freeing for me as it started the process of forgiving him. Yet as I sit here and write this post I am feeling more pain than ever before. Why? This is when I have to lean very hard on my faith. I had to put myself in his shoes and hope by some measure that he too was grieving her loss. That I will never know.

I suppose I might see things differently had he shown up at the hospital or her funeral. Her other doctors where there. Offering condolences and assistance. But it was the absence of her neurologist that brought me such pain and sorrow – for his absence made me feel as if he didn’t care. That was the driving force behind my anger.

As Sittser reminds us in this chapter, “Forgiveness rarely happens in an instant.” That I know all to well. Although I did feel a large sense of relief after I sent the letter, it didn’t go away. It just found a quiet spot on my soul and rested there slowly destroying my faith in the medical profession.

Forgiveness is a life long journey, and just as grief washes over you at times so does the process of forgiveness. As Sittser states in this chapter we may have to forgive again and again when those special occasions arrive like when I go to a wedding of a couple Brit’s age or when some of Brittany’s friends begin to have families of their own. I have to relive that again. That moment of anger shows up and I have to chose to forgive all over again. Because you see my loss is eternal there will always reminders of the magnitude of my loss.

I have begun the journey of forgiveness and like my journey of grief – my faith in God keeps me on the right path. At the times when I choose not to follow my faith or my belief that God is in control – that is when I feel lost and alone with no map and no guide to get me through.

A few weeks ago I did something I’ve been trying to do for years since Brit’s death. I’ve been holding on to all of her medical records, maybe one day thinking I’d change my mind about suing the people involved. It occurred to me it was time to let that go. So I sat down in a chair and began the process of healing by shredding each document. As the tears flowed and with each page I felt a sense of relief that part of my life, that anger was released.

Forgiveness is hard, but a necessary process. Forgiveness also doesn’t mean I have forgotten what happened on October 13, 2006. The flashbacks still occur. The nightmares still keep me up some nights. The pain in heart is always there. But in forgiving those who were involved, I have started moving forward and replacing those bad memories with good ones of my daughter. This story, my story is an on-going process and like Sittser our faith in God is how the story gets re-written. God changes everything. Faith gives hope in the midst of grief.

But also know, for those of you living this now or you know someone who is on this journey. It never goes away. This kind of pain after a sudden loss is hard and some days still unbearable. Keep in touch with them, don’t forget and pray constantly because we need it. Our faith, our trust, our future depends on the prayers, love and compassion of others and the mercy of God.

until next time,

m

The Silent Scream of Pain

Grief Blessings1 Comment

* Continuing through “a grace disguised” by Jerry Sittser

Chapter Four

The Silent Scream of Pain

In this chapter the author talks about the experience of pain one can experience with loss. The words “unspeakable” “unbearable” were just a few he uses to describe the pain felt by those who’ve lost a loved one. I know that pain.

Interestingly enough he goes on to reflect what pain means. The value of it, if one could find that unfathomable. The following quote puts it  into perspective and gives one some type of rationale behind why pain is experienced due to loss.

“What is true of the body is true in the soul. The pain of loss is severe because the pleasure of life is so great; it demonstrates the supreme value of what is lost.”

  

How we go about dealing with our pain is a whole different story. I found myself identifying a great deal with his examples of how we face our pain, or how we don’t. Just yesterday, Christmas, I found myself in a familiar place – avoidance. I tend to do one of two things: I either put on a happy face and pretend it’s all ok; or I withdraw into my “space” and avoid personal contact as to avoid anyone seeing my pain.

I have found over these past four years is that the pain has to be heard, faced, dealt with and acknowledged. While I understand this to be true, it’s harder to live it. To share this pain is one of the most difficult things I have experienced. Perhaps it’s because I don’t want anyone else to know how bad it hurts. Sometimes it’s because I don’t want to seem vulnerable. That could be a whole other chapter all by itself.

Another way of dealing with pain is by “drowning it” by indulging in various types of activities. For example grief and pain have many friends and for me the worst was the loneliness. The author speaks of watching endless hours of television during the hours of 10pm to 2 am for about two months. This was the time when he missed his wife the most. I found ways of avoiding that loneliness, I buried myself in my work and church. But in the darkness of the night – the loneliness returned.

I slept on the couch for three months after Brittany died because I couldn’t bring myself to pass by her room to get to mine. The nightly routine was I would pass by her room and say good night before I shut my own bedroom door. Just that simple action and memory was profoundly devastating to me. I could hardly breathe. But one day I had to face it. I could no longer sleep on the couch. What I was facing was more than just a ritual – it truly meant I had to face that she was gone. That she wasn’t coming back.

The author does speak to the problem of addiction and how it can occur after someone experiences a loss. Finding ways to avoid, derail, bypass the pain – problem is, it’s still waiting there behind all that avoidance.

“Loss disrupts and destroys the orderliness and familiarity of their world. They feel such desperation and disorientation in the face of this obliteration of order that they go berserk on binges. They saturate their senses with anything that will satisfy them in the moment because they cannot bear to think about the long-term consequences of loss.”

That quote was never more true for me than the first six months of journey. Once I returned to work, I put everything into it. It was an exhausting time and my body paid dearly for it. I found some sense of relief from the relentless attack on my heart while at work. It was once I pulled into the driveway at my home, the one I shared with my daughter, that the pain came crashing back. I had no place to hide.

I spent some time in the anger phase. It just so happened to be winter in Michigan and for those who know me know that this is not my favorite time of  year. It snows a lot in Michigan and I really don’t like snow. So when it snowed, I found myself outside shoveling, screaming at God and asking “why”. I’m sure my neighbors thought I’d gone off the deep end. But in looking back, it was a great time of healing for me. I was so angry at her doctors, her father, so many people who chose not to listen to me when I knew something wasn’t right with her.

Once I realized that the anger was just another way of dealing with the pain I was able to move on. So often people tend to get stuck in the anger phase of grief. As the author states “anger, like denial or bargaining or binges, is simply another way of deflecting the pain.” He goes on to say that pain will keep returning and will not let up until it has had it due time. I still find times I get angry, I go through the stages of grief over and over. I just don’t stay as long – I manage to go through them like a revolving door. I’ve learned to live with it.

At some point it becomes exhausting to fight it any longer. Yesterday I felt this disconnect and sense of nothingness. Devoid of emotion if you will. That is grief and pain knocking at the door. Over the years I’ve learned that I can’t run away from it. I have to let it have its moment and then in prayer I have to release it. It’s then and only then do I get some peace.

until next time,

m

And now you miss 23

Grief BlessingsLeave a comment

It has been just five short years since my daughter passed away and tomorrow would have been her 23nd birthday. It is the sixth birthday I have had to endure this lump in my throat that comes on the eve of November 30th and stays until I choose to release it.

Her angel date is always difficult, but it’s her birthday that I find extraordinarily difficult to think about. Birthdays represent life, birth a promise of a future to come. One filled of years and years of joy and yes, even some sorrows.

I fought so many years to have her. Suffered from many painful and expensive infertility tests and finally she was born. Even that wasn’t without difficulty. Last minute c-section and a dislocated hip but it was the most joyous moment of my life.

Throughout her life I had to hold on tightly to her as she had suffered from different illnesses from having a bout of encephalitis at 11 months. But mostly we just survived life the best we could. But there was always this nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

In looking back the many years of fighting for her rights, her healthcare and her life – it seems as though life was always a battle. But there were also so many moments filled with joy and happiness. Laughter came easily to her despite her many setbacks over the years. She faced life like no one I’ve ever seen.

Perhaps that is why her birthday is the hardest day for me to live through. Each and every one represents a loss so profound in my life because I fought so very hard to have her, keep her and care for her. Every fiber of my being went to be her mother. Her caretaker and she – she was my everything.

As the tears stream down my face, I can’t help but also laugh because she made me laugh. She made me proud to be her mother. She made me a better person. And although tomorrow will be hard. I know she lives on in our hearts and minds. And I will see her again soon.

In the meantime I will continue to honor her life by doing the things I know she loved – loving people.

until next time

m

Thoughts and Feelings

Grief Blessings4 Comments

So yeah it’s October. Damn I hate this time of year. I have so many thoughts and feelings that come and go in my mind, so many that I don’t know if I can think straight. My mind is filled with so many memories. Times that I would give anything to have back. A life that I took for granted. A life I miss more than I can say.

So where do I go from there. I still don’t know. I’m still searching for that road, that idea, that concept….it’s still elusive to me.  As much as I think that for the most part I got this; I really don’t always. This is the time of year when my vulnerability shows. When the cracks begin to appear and my pain breaks through. This time of year I just can’t seem to hold it in any longer. It’s exhausting to keep it all in check.

Here is what I knew…. Four years ago I knew I had purpose. I knew that my daughter loved me unconditionally and made me the happiest person on earth. Even on the days when I thought I would go crazy when she’d act like the teenager she was, I knew my life was on the right track. That life with her, all be it crazy at times, was making me feel complete.

Then in 12 hours it was all over…..

Here is what I knew….One day your life is going along and the next day the rug gets pulled out from under you and you don’t even know who you are. You can’t figure out what to do next. You don’t know what to say, what to feel – because all you feel is a numbness that is all-consuming. You try to get through every minute because looking at your life by the hour seems to daunting.

Then the first year came and went…..

Here is what I knew….That first year was the worst. Nothing mattered. I couldn’t eat because I spent most of my waking hours choking back the pain. No way you can get food past that. I walked around with a lump in my throat that was a constant reminder of the pain that lie just beneath it. In looking back I was just existing because I had to but not because I wanted to. I was going through the motions of life because that is what I was told to do. It will get better they said.

Then the second year came and went…..

I started my life over so to speak and moved back to my hometown. Thinking that moving home would be a good thing because living in Michigan was so hard. It was if my old life was being thrown back in my face every single day. Every day that I drove up to the house where we lived, I would park my car in the drive and then break down and cry because I knew walking in that house would be another reminder that my life just plain sucked. But moving away proved not to be as healing as I had hoped.  I read that the 18th month – 24th month was a crucial time in a grievers life. I felt a sense of relief when I read that because I felt as if I was falling apart during that time. Just when I thought I was making progress – it all came crashing down.

Then the third year came and went…..

By now I have gotten into a routine. I call it a routine because in reality it is what my life has become – a routine. I get up and go to work and I come home and exist. I go to sleep and get up the next day and do it again. That is what my reality had become. The third year seemed to take a toll on me. I feel like the 3rd year aged me significantly. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking what the hell has happened to you? Who are you? I just didn’t know any more. The answers to all my questions still unanswered. The purpose in my life still yet to be determined. Or so I thought.

And now the fourth year is about to begin…..

I still don’t have any idea where I am going or how I will get there. So much has changed, but my heart still aches the same way. The pain that exists in my heart is just as strong today as it was on October 13th 2006. The reality of that day is still as palpable today. The emptiness of my life is so profound – it’s hard to breathe. Some days I let you all in just so you know it’s still real. It will always be a part of who I am.

I know that I am changing or maybe a better term would be “evolving”. Perhaps for the first time in my life I am becoming who I was meant to  be all along. And I do know that this change will be better for me, but I imagine there will be those who will not agree with that. But that will all work itself out eventually. One thing I know is that I have to figure that out first before anyone else can understand it.

until next time

m

The Long Goodbye

Grief Blessings3 Comments

This is the time of year when I find myself saying goodbye all over again to my late daughter Brittany. I call it the “long goodbye” because it just never seems to stop. Every October without fail it comes, the wave of opportunity to say goodbye all over again. Does it get any easier? Maybe, in a different way than you might imagine or that I could have ever imagined.

I think it gets easier because the distance from the event to now is creating some space for healing. But that moment, that one moment when it all floods back and I’m right back in that hospital room – it’s new, it’s fresh and it’s hurts so bad it takes my breath away.

But what is different is that it doesn’t last as long. I now consider myself an “experienced griever”. What I mean is you learn how to grieve and then you move on. Understanding that it comes and goes like the high tide. Ebbs and flows with the new moon. Just underneath the surface lurks the rip currents. Those are the times when the lights are dim and future doesn’t look so bright.

As an experienced griever, you know you have to be careful of those “rip currents”. You have to wear your life jacket out there in the water of grief. For me it’s God. Some times I feel as if I’m drowning in grief and I am reaching up out of the water stretching my hand up to God because I know He will save me. He will pull me from the depths of my despair.

Even knowing that, the long goodbye is a tough time. It’s a time of remembering her. Her hair, her laugh, her uncanny way of knowing just when her mom needed a hug or a laugh. The way she moved about the world faced with everyday challenges with a smile and a song in her heart. Yes indeed the long goodbye is rough. And it’s time again to remember and to reflect on the many great things I miss about my girl.

until next time,

m

20121004-230458.jpg

Reminders

Her life was my purpose. In forgetting her I begin to lose myself.

Grief BlessingsLeave a comment

As I ponder my next blog topic I felt the need to write. As some of you may realize I am entering the “dark times” as I’ve so fondly called it. The dark times I have come to know oh so well are the months from September through December. Every August I get the since that the dark times are almost here.

I begin to notice subtle changes in my mood. I become more withdrawn, less social because I don’t want to see all the reminders of what I have lost. When I see a woman out in public having dinner or shopping and she is with her mother – I am reminded that my mother is no longer here with me. When I see a woman out in public having dinner or shopping and she is with her daughter – I am reminded that  my daughter is no longer here with me. And when I see women together out in public with young children, I am reminded that I have lost so much.

I keep a picture of my mother on my dresser. It’s one of my favorites. It is from a family picnic from long ago. It is a four-generation picture of my great grandmother Lovina, my grandmother Martha, my mother Judie and me. I treasure it for it reminds me of the great women I have had in my life that are now gone. The sorrow of their absence in my life overwhelms me.

I also keep pictures of my sweet girl Brittany. I have them at work, and pretty much in every room in my home. I had once entertained the thought of removing them because seeing them brought such pain, more pain than joy. But I have now come to a place that I can see them and smile. But this time of year it’s more difficult to hide the pain. More difficult to smile. Because the emptiness is so very present.

I have saved some very special treasures that I keep in a cloth covered storage box that is about 3 feet long by 2 feet wide. It contains some great memories of my daughter. I have her American Girl doll from our trip to Chicago that we made one summer with another mom and her two daughters. It was a fun time. The doll she picked was the one where they designed it to look like her. So yeah it reminds me of her. I placed Brittany’s christening dress on the doll and laid her upon Brittany’s baby blanket which my mom began to crochet before her death. The one I found sitting behind her chair after her funeral. I finished it just in time to bring Brittany home again.

Some of the other things in the box are Brittany’s favorite blanket, her stuffed bear from Andy, her boyfriend at the time of her death and several photos. But the most difficult thing that box for me to see or hold are her glasses. Shortly after her death I picked them up and felt such a feeling of sorrow – it was unexplainable. All I knew is that I could somehow feel what she saw before she had her seizure. It was as if I could feel her pain or her aura before the seizure took her away from me. To this day I cannot pick them up without experiencing that horrible feeling.

I keep that box out of my sight for it brings more pain than joy – but on October 13th I open that box and let the sorrow take over – it is my way of letting the whole year of missing her flow out of me. I feel so alone during this time as I cannnot share it with anyone. No one can possibly understand this type of pain unless you’ve lived it. Yeah I can move on, I can work, I can laugh and enjoy life, but this small part of me – it’s never leaving. It’s always there and it’s always haunting me.

I have the most precious memory book I created that helped me throughout the first two years after her death. Don’t get me wrong it was so very painful to sit and look at pictures of her during such happy times. Knowing I’d never see her again. But I am so glad I took the time and created such a book. I can now look at it and share it with others in hopes that we don’t forget her. To my dying day I will not let her life be forgotten. Her life was my purpose. In forgetting her I begin to lose myself.

So my dear friends, the dark time is about to arrive and I ask you to pray for me, to love me and to understand that this to shall pass come January 1, 2011.

Until next time

m

Goodbye

Grief Blessings2 Comments

Well my friends we have reached the end of Traveling Light by Max Lucado. It’s been a great ride and I’m so very grateful you all came along with me. I hope you learned something with each post. I know I did. So as I write the conclusion I am reminded of what a gift life is and we waste so much time carrying around the burdens were never meant to carry.

 

The Conclusion

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give  you rest.” Matthew 11:28 NLT

I tell  you I found Lucado’s conclusion to be hilariously funny and emotionally challenging. Why? Well first off I so identified with his falling asleep during a visit to the Louvre in Paris. While I was in Paris in 1999 we weren’t able to make it to the Louvre, a bucket list item, but we did go to many places of interest. One place in particular was the Museum de Picasso. Brittany had fallen in love with Picasso many years before. I believe in large part because we had a table book of Picasso’s work in our living room for years.

As we walked in, she ran off in wide-eyed wonder to see what she could find. She took it all in calling my name every other second to come and see what she had found. In looking back I can see I did what I always do when I go sight-seeing. I look but I don’t see. What I mean is I can look at something and say “that’s beautiful” but I don’t really see it. I don’t spend the time to absorb its beauty. Basically I take a passing glance and keep moving on. But Brittany, she understood what it meant to just sit in awe of spectacular beauty. Oh how I was annoyed by that then.

Now I have slowed down a little and stop to say thank you to God for creating such a beautiful gift that we call earth. I stop now and have learned to appreciate the small things. To take in the breath-taking view that for so long I passed by. Just like my life. I’ve been in such a hurry to get somewhere I have managed to see my life flash before me and there are some great moments, however, there are more moments filled with pain and sorrow. And now I say enough to that.

Lucado has throughout his book referred to our “baggage” that we carry around. Carrying around our lives carrying yesterday’s disappointments, life’s pain, dissatisfaction and many more. Carrying all that baggage is something I know I’ve done all my life. It’s hard to let it go. I think in large part because I let it define who I am. Or who I thought I was. But I am beginning to see that Lucado is right when he says that carrying around all that baggage causes us to miss what God has to offer. That we should be wide-awake. That we are missing the magic of life.

So that takes us back to the original scripture that carried us this far:

The Lord is my shepherd
I shall not want
He makes me to lie down.
He leads me.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in the paths of righteousness.
His name’s sake.
He walks me through it.
He guides me.
His presence comforts me.
He is with me.
He has prepared a place for me in the presence of my enemies.
He anoints me.
My cup overflows.
He follows me.
I will dwell in the house of my Lord forever.

So my dear friends, put down your baggage and take a deep breath – take in all that is magical about life and let God overflow your cup. I know that today my cup is overflowing and I’m going to do what I can to enjoy every last drop.

until next time

m

The Burden of Homesickness

Grief Blessings4 Comments

Chapter 18 – Almost Heaven

The Burden of Homesickness

Continuing in my series of blogging through Max Lucado’s book “Traveling Light”.

I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever. Psalm 23:6 NKJV

Please note that this chapter may be difficult to read but I’m sure some of you will understand.

In this chapter Lucado talks about his love and desire for a big dog. And although his wife was against having a big dog, he was eventually allowed to get one. He compared his search for just the perfect dog was like God’s way of chosing us as His own. We belong to Him and this world we live in is not our home.

Homesickness has been a friend of mine for quite some time now. When I chose to move away from Indiana and venture out into the “big” world as I called it back then; at times I was so homesick for my family. So much so I almost moved back. But I’m glad I didn’t because I would have never had my sweet baby Brittany.

When Brittany died I too became homesick. Not homesick like you might understand it in the context of missing my hometown like above, but rather homesick for the home I just lost. Home can mean many things, but at that time “home” meant to me “life”. I felt like my life had been torn apart and every waking minute all I wanted was to go “home”. Back to the life I had just days before. When everything seemed ok.

We were planning for homecoming. Picking out dresses, coloring hair, making plans for the football game. Despite the news we had received a few short weeks before that she was having more and more seizure activity – life went on. We just went back to what we knew how to do – live. Then it all came crashing down on the eve of homecoming and in just 12 short hours she was gone.

She had gone home. Her eternal home. The home I now long for. That homesickness that Lucado eludes to in this chapter is the homesickness I felt so dramatically during those first few months. I longed to be with her. So much so I contemplated taking my own life. I missed her with every ounce of my soul. She was my everything. I wanted to go home.

Often when Brittany was upset about something, she’d say “I just wanna go home”. I always thought that was funny. But in looking back I have a better understanding because home to her meant a place of comfort. A place where she felt safe. I wanted that so much after her death. I just wanted to go home.

I replaced my sense of homesickness with believing it could be relieved by moving back to my home state of Indiana to be by my family about 6 months after Brittany’s death. I had nothing left in Michigan. Even my home had become a prison because I couldn’t bear to live there a minute longer. Every day after work when I came home, I walked into the door and fell to my knees because I could still smell her, feel her presence and knowing she was gone was too much to bear.

At night I couldn’t even go into my bedroom to sleep because over the years since her father and I had divorced I always made sure when I went to bed, I would check on her. I would open the door to her room, kiss her on the forehead and tell her “sweet dreams”. But in the months after her death, I couldn’t even walk to my bedroom because I had to pass her room first. It was incredibly painful to know she wasn’t in there. I couldn’t go and kiss her goodnight. So I slept on the couch for more than three months. I just wanted to go home.

Now as I approach the 4th year of her passing, I still long for home. I still long to be with her. I realize I cannot yet go home as my God is not ready for me to come home yet. In as much as I’d like to think he wants me home, he needs me to  be here doing his work. But I must tell you I have no desire to be here and I think that is because I haven’t had a real reason to want to be here. Maybe until now.

It seems as though my job and my friends have made an impression upon me that I need to stay a little longer. That I should want to stay a little longer. So I shall I guess, because really it is out of my hands. Because it is written that our days are numbered and our time on this earth is very short. One day I will see my girl again. Until then I know that God has her safely in his arms and He waits my return just in time.

until next time

m

Burden of Guilt

Grief BlessingsLeave a comment

Continuing series on blogging through Max Lucado’s “Traveling Light” – Chapter Eight: The Heavenly Exchange – The Burden of Guilt.

He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name sake. – Psalm 23:3 NKJV

So admittedly I will tell you that I struggled with this chapter more than any other.  In some ways I agree with the author that guilt can plaque you and stifle you to a point where you cannot function. However the parts about righteousness, well I have to say that ruffled my feathers a bit.

Throughout this whole chapter the word righteous or righteousness came up so many times I began to feel guilty about my position on this. So in saying that I will move on and talk about how guilt can take a grieving person by the neck and can keep a firm grip on them for as long as that person will let it.

Guilt comes in so many ways. In grief, guilt often comes to the griever because they may have what they call survivor’s guilt. The kind of guilt that one might experience if they lived, but the other one died. Survivor’s guilt can keep a person from moving forward because their thoughts can be consumed with “why me” “why didn’t I die and they live” – believe me it happens. It’s real to them.

For me guilt came with a couple of different faces. At one time I felt guilty because perhaps I hadn’t done enough to take care of my daughter. I didn’t insist on better care. I should’ve kept calling the doctors and demanding better care. But I didn’t. At least I didn’t feel like I had. And I’ll forget Brittany’s PICU nurse that night, Jennifer was her name, she was at my side when I was sobbing over my daughter’s dead body and I said “I’m so sorry Brittany, I should have fought harder, I should’ve yelled louder and Jennifer said to me: Malissa you did all and more than most parents they’d seen for their children. You see Brittany had been a regular at Devos Children’s Hospital over the years.

She had many friends who had taken care of her over the years there. In fact, the ER staff had come up in the middle of the night to see how she was doing. And much to the dismay of their hopes – they saw a picture that no one had anticipated – she was failing. She was slowly slipping away from us and no one – not one doctor knew why.

As I stood there sobbing uncontrollably believing I had failed her – I heard the words that made me feel I did do all I could from a nurse who, for me, encompasses the role of a nurse on a level many do not ever achieve. PICU nurses are a special breed of nurse. I know because I’m a nurse, a pediatric anesthesia care nurse and I know – it’s a love of children that keeps you in such a field that shows you over and over a kind of death that brings you to your knees. The deaths of little innocent children and their grieving parents left in the wake.

Over the years after her death, I have dealt with little episodes of guilt, but over all I feel I did my best. But the guilt didn’t stop there. It came in another form, one that I still to this day feel from time to time and that is this: I am here now and she is not. That guilt is paralyzing. It keeps me from moving into a life that God intended for me to have.

Listen. The weight of weariness pulls you down. Self reliance misleads you. Disappointment discourages you. Anxiety plagues you. But guilt? Guilt consumes you. – Max Lucado

If I let it my guilt would consume me, but I am able to keep it at a distance. It rears its ugly head from time to time but I give it over the God and let Him handle it. Because I am just too tired of the battle. That burden of guilt I have carried for so long is now God’s burden. I have become too weary to carry it another day, another minute.

One last thought about righteousness and guilt from the book that I did see as a glimmering sign of hope and that is this; “The path of righteousness is a narrow, winding trail up a steep hill. At the top of the hill is a cross. At the base of the cross are bags. Countless bags full of innumerable sins. Calvary is the compost pile for guilt. Would you like to leave yours there as well?”

I know I have and will continue to if I am to survive this burden of guilt.

until  next time,

m

 

Hope vs Hopelessness

Grief BlessingsLeave a comment

Continuing journey through Max Lucado’s “Traveling Light” – Chapter 7
It’s a Jungle Out There – The Burden of Hopelessness

He restores my soul – Psalm 23:3 NKJV

So after reading Chapter 7 I came to a few conclusions about how I thought this chapter might relate to the grief journey. In thinking back to a time early in my journey I couldn’t see any hope. I don’t even think I could define hope. So what did I do? I read every piece of scripture I could so that I envision what hope might feel like.

I have read numerous books by authors who have gone before me in this journey and there always seemed to be one clear similarity and that is hope is rooted in the faith that gives you strength to hold on.

By holding on I mean through the darkest of hours, the most searing pain, the moments when the light at the end of the tunnel seems too far to reach, that life seems meaningless in the face of grief; you can find hope.

In the book Lucado compares hopelessness like an “odd bag” unlike other bags that are full, he describes the bag of hopelessness as a bag that is empty. More importantly he relates that the empty bag creates an “exhausting burden”.  I get that. I see that. I have felt that.

Have you ever turned your purse or bag upside down looking for your keys, your glasses, your lipstick but to no avail you cannot find it. No matter how hard you shake it – nothing. But the bag of hopelessness is empty – very empty – painfully empty.

It’s hard to see hope when you are filled with emptiness. Right. So what can you do until your hope returns? You need someone in your life that can hold  you accountable. Who is not afraid to hang with you. Who can handle spending the time and energy it takes to create a sense of fellowship that will make a grieving person feel safe.

Safe enough to have this person look them straight in the eyes and say “hang on”. Because when you are blinded by grief, no matter the cause, you can’t see the road in front of you. All that is illuminated is the sorrow that fills your heart. The path of darkness is narrow and winding.

I recently heard that a person without a vision is lost. That comment was made to a describe a person without goals or a plan. But it can also be used to describe a grieving heart. The capacity to see past the pain is severely limited. Finding, having and keep hope alive is key to opening the heart to see the way out.

In those early days – I spent many hours looking at scripture because it was my only comfort. I was looking earnestly for any crumb of hope to hang on to. God’s word can and did bring such comfort. I know because it has gotten me to this point. The point where I can remain hopeful.

Even though you remain in your situation. Your loss is still painfully there. In my case living a life without my daughter, I have hope; direction and restoration because I took that bag of hopelessness and let God fill it up with many things. God can do that for you too.

Things like: scripture, friends, family, vision and hope. Having hope has led me on my personal journey to find my purpose. But here’s the kick – it doesn’t happen over night. Some days it’s as if I have been temporarily blinded to the hope. But as I return to what I know works – God – I am renewed again.

That the best hope of all.

Until next time,

m