Category: grief blessings

experiences of loss, grief journey and blessings along the way

A Community of Brokenness

Grief BlessingsLeave a comment

Chapter 13 – A Community of Brokenness
by – Jerry Sitser

My viewpoint of this authors words and experience in comparison to my loss and my life. Nothing more…..

I could seriously stop after the first paragraph because it is where I am today and where I appear to be stuck. You see when you have lost, you have lost hard, lost much, lost hope, lost love, lost joy, lost self. So when the author says “Loss is also a solitary experience. …like physical pain, we know it is real only because we experience it uniquely within ourselves. When a person says, ‘You just don’t know what I have gone through and how much I have suffered,’ we must acknowledge that he or she is entirely correct. We do not know and cannot know.”

For me that is one of the hardest things to understand both from the griever’s perspective and the very people who try to help. I find myself getting very irritated when someone “assumes” they know my pain. They cannot. Loss is so unique to each and every person. It begins way before the loss and flows through into the loss and breaks open after the loss and sometimes, the pieces are hard to put back together.

I find it hard to explain that this is something I have to face alone. Because I experienced my loss alone. It was mine to experience, not that I wanted it, but it was mine. I know it well, I’ve experienced numerous times, each uniquely different and devastating in their own ways. There is though a fine line between working through the loss alone and being alone. But it’s in the finding of the right people to be alone with that creates much angst for me.

Sharing my pain, my loss, my experience is hard to do. I find it makes me uncomfortable to have people share in what I find revolting to experience. Why on earth would I want to share it. I don’t even want it. But over the years I have shared it and I still find it uncomfortable, in fact, sometimes it’s  harder to face.

Interestingly enough people have helped me more than I could ever have imagined. Came to my rescue when I was at the bottom of my pain and lifted me up. My family came when I needed them. A few people knew instinctively when to call and when to just “show up” at the door. Those were the times when, as I look back, were the most critical to my recovery during those early months.

But there were others in my life that chose to stay away. I imagine for various reasons, I mean really why would you want to face mortality in the face of people you love while you watch them react to the very thing you don’t want to think about. As a griever you feel like you have “leprosy” as the people begin to stay away. Fall out of your life – creating more loss – more pain. Not intentional by any means, but the damage is staggering.

The community of brokenness comes from so many sources during times of loss. Loss is universal as Sittser explains. It happens. It’s inevitable. I know my community came from some unlikely sources and from places I didn’t expect. Some come because they have lost something at some point. Some come and go and stay just long enough to make  a difference. I felt a sense of calm much like the eye of a hurricane. Just hanging on the edge of insanity – life out of control and just waiting for me to burst.

I’m thankful for that community who chose to serve and stand by me during that time. I couldn’t have made it through those early months and years without them. But now I find I’m back in familiar, yet unwanted territory. You see my friends, my loss of Brittany left me blind-sided. It took the wind out of my sails. It blew a hole so large in my life that I felt the value of my life had been sucked out and into the hurricane of grief. That feeling is still present today. It wanes. It pounds. It crashes.

Sittser touches on a subject very close to my heart and that is this….the fear of loss again creates a dilemma for him and it does for me. The problem of choosing to love again is that the choice of love means living under the constant threat of further loss. And that is where I stand today. I can’t seem to move beyond that space. You know that space I’ve written about before.

“The space where I exist and the space where I want to be is paper thin.” – Malissa Moss

I feel I’m at a crossroads so to speak with moving forward or remaining frozen in time without hope. I know in mind that love is good. But my reality is I know love is loss.

I can read all day, Sittser reminds me of so many things I try very hard to believe, to live, to embrace – loss increases our capacity to love says Sittser, but it also increases the sorrow and suffering when loss happens again, and it will. Choosing to love again brings me such anxiety as I know it will also bring loss and more grief. I am not so sure I am ready for that. But I also know I am human and need love to survive.

until next time,

m

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 Amputation of the Familiar Self

Grief Blessings1 Comment

Continuing my series on blogging through Jerry Sittsers’ book “a Grace Disguised”. As we take a look at Chapter 6, I am reminded of my own journey and just how far I have come in four short years.

The following paragraph on page 81 really spoke to me and summed it up about how it feels to have lost someone and what remains in the wake of loss:

“I still think of myself as a husband to Lynda, as a father to Diana Jane, and as a son to Grace. But the people who defined me that way, who played the role opposite me as wife, daughter and mother, are no longer there. The self I once was, this familiar self, cries out for them, like nerves still telling me that I have a leg or an arm, though only a stump remains.” – Jerry Sittser

For me that excerpt from chapter six accurately describes my pain, my loss and my sorrow. Those words capture the essence of the loss of my mother and my daughter. Even as the years pass, 22 of them since my mother passed away, I still feel as if a part of me is missing. And this description, these words by the author gave me something I had not been able to obtain before. His words allowed to me to read out loud something my heart and soul had been searching to say, that I, mother and daughter experienced a profound loss and will never be the same.

My identity was taken from me. The role as the only daughter removed from my future. The role as the mother of a wonderful young woman shattered as I watched her die. For months I wandered about wondering who I was or what was I going to do. Sure I was a nurse and I had that identity and loved being a nurse. But being a mother was something I had wanted to be for as long as I can remember. The one thing that meant more to me than anything else I did – gone in 12 hours.

I remember it was about the fifth year after my mother’s death that I found a book that truly helped me move passed the wall that had become my familiar friend. The wall of anger. The book was by Hope Edelman and it was titled “Motherless Daughters”. The book literally fell off the shelf at Barnes & Noble and I picked it up and began to read story after story of woman, like me, who had lost their mothers too soon. At critical points in their lives. I was pregnant with Brittany when my mother died. A time when I truly needed her and I felt cut off “amputated” from her mid way through my pregnancy and during my seventh month, had to bury her.

In the weeks and months after my daughter’s death I found myself asking do I really want this life? Do I really want to participate in the future? I was so confused about who I was and who I was going to be – it was exhausting. I was drained mentally and physically from the challenge of just existing. The day-to-day life without Brittany was distasteful to me. It brought no joy, no laughter and certainly wasn’t pleasing to even think about. But I continued to live on despite my thoughts trying to rationalize why.

Sittser describes later on in the chapter the phantom pains amputees often feel as if their body still believes that the limb that is now gone still exists. similarly those who’ve lost a loved one the “phantom pains” of the former life are everywhere. Even despite my removal of many of the things that reminded me of Brittany – her absence in the house was very palpable. No matter what I did to put it out of my mind, even for the smallest of time, I could not remove the one thing that remained – my heart ached every time I saw her picture. I longed for her presence. I wanted so much to feel her hug hear her laughter.

Loss has become a part of who I am. It is part of my story. Although it has been tough, I have managed to move towards a new identity. However, I believe I will always be Brittany’s mom, Judie’s daughter. But in order for me to continue the healing process, note I said continue because grief is a journey; I have to create a new identity. One that will allow me to acknowledge who I was, the life I had, yet move towards a new life, a new identity.

There is one relationship that I do have that continues to be the focal point in my journey and that is my relationship with God. Although it has been riddled with anger, sadness, pain, sorrow and even joy, this loss, these losses, have pushed me to God, like Sitser, even when I didn’t want it. My faith has been my saving grace. God has been my comfort and my strength throughout it all.

Recently God reminded me of my purpose now by placing a young man next to me on a plane as I was returning home from a business trip. This young man, dressed in his Army uniform seemed somewhat restless. So after a few minutes I decided to engage him in some light conversation. After a few minutes, I mentioned that my “late” daughter’s boyfriend had just joined the National Guard. He asked how long they had been together, I’m thinking he didn’t hear the “late” part. As I told him that Brittany had died a few years ago – he politely apologized but the look on his face told me he had a story. And I was right.

He began to tell me that his baby son had died two weeks earlier. He shared with me his story and my heart broke for him. His loss so fresh, so apparent as he talked about what happened. I asked him if he was a faithful person. He answered, “you mean religious?”, I said no I mean are you faithful? Do you believe in God? He said “yes”, but I don’t believe things happen for a reason. At that moment I knew God had placed me there to show him another way to see it.

As I explained to him my thoughts on loss and how it changes us, how our loved ones were here, even for a short time, to show us the way. They were sent here to move us along the path of life. To show us compassion, gratitude and what it means to forgive. These lessons we may have not been able to learn if it weren’t for the loss of someone we loved. After our long discussion – he looked at me and said “thank you” and then we sat quietly for the rest of the trip. Just as we arrived, I leaned over to him and said “I’ll be praying for  you and your son Nick”. And went on my way.

My new identity is to help others who have suffered a loss. I am a living testimony that you can survive a tragic loss and continue on. Even though some days are still rough, I am creating a new life. I can look back over my shoulder and see my mom and Brittany smiling at me and I know that they are proud of me and how far I have come. Then I look ahead and see that I am continuing my journey into the future.

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

As Time Passes

Grief BlessingsLeave a comment

As time passes I find I no longer look for those moments when I am overwhelmed with a wash of grief that suddenly comes over me and when I least expect it. I stopped expecting it a year or so ago. But funny thing – it still comes, it still stings and it still hurts just as badly.

As I wandered about my place today I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling disconnected, unmotivated to do anything, talk to anyone or spend time with anyone. I was upset with myself because it is not like me to be that way. Then tears filled my eyes and I felt as if I’d been stabbed in the heart by the sting of grief.

You see if you have never experienced it, you can’t even imagine it. But if you have experienced this type of grief – you know perfectly well what I’m saying. Try as you may to not think about it, dwell on it or give it any residence in your mind – it still shows up. It’s like a bad ache, an itch you can’t scratch, a feeling of gloom that comes over like a black cloud on a sunny day that brings a burst of rain so strong it blows you over and you are covered in tears like a watershed of rain.

The hard part is letting it happen. Letting the work of grief do it’s thing and then releasing it into the world giving it it’s due. Because I’ll tell you if you fight it will fight harder. I have found it’s easier to just let it happen. Let the pain come, the tears flow, the sorrow cry out in prayer to God because that is how it gets released.

I miss my daughter with every part of my being. More than I can ever share. More than I could ever write about. There is nothing that I could write that would describe the emptiness I have in my heart that will never be replaced. As this fifth Christmas comes to an end and the tears flow I am still thankful, still grateful and still hopeful for the future.

until next time

m

Merry Christmas Message

Grief Blessings1 Comment

Merry Christmas

Sitting here surrounded by family, I am reminded of many Christmas’ past. Visits to grandma’s house where many generations of my family would gather from all over at one moment to celebrate Jesus’ birth. Laughter always filled the house as the little children ran around chasing one another up and down the stairs.

George Washington, his picture, at the top of the stairs so creepy awaiting us. No matter where  you stood, it always seemed as if he eyes followed you. As kids we would stay upstairs going through grandma’s closet looking for fun outfits to try on. We’d look through grandpa’s collection of Indian relics. Remembering those times always brings a smile to my face.

Many Christmas’ past brings such a joyful memory but also such a longing for just one more moment with mom. I miss her beyond measure. Her smile while cooking for the whole family was priceless. She loved those moments when the family was all together. I miss those moments more than I can say. Her death left this family in such a vacuum of despair that nothing has been the same since.

Then there are the many memories of my sweet Brittany. I have so many great pictures of her at Christmas over the 17 years we celebrated with her. The greatest gift of all was her life given to me as a  mother. She was a blessing like no other I’ve had and like no other I’ll ever have again.

Her smile permeates my heart and will for as long as I breathe. Her spirit lives within me and will forever be a part of who I am. This Christmas, I am reminded of how very important family is and how quickly it can change. So my dear friends – stop and take a moment to thank God for your family. Be grateful for the joy in your life.

My Christmas wish for you and your family is for you to know that the greatest gift you can give one another is yourselves.

until next time,

m

To Live and Mourn Simultaneously

Grief BlessingsLeave a comment

Continuing my journey as I blog through Jerry Sitter’s “a grace disguised”. Chapter Three: Darkness Closes In

I used the phrase “To Live and Mourn Simultaneously” for the title of this post because I truly think Sitter could have labeled this chapter that way. As we go through this chapter you will see why as I believe it became very apparent there is a theme in this chapter that will bring light on this very delicate topic.

“Sudden and tragic loss leads to terrible darkness. It is an inescapable as nightmares during a high fever. The darkness comes, no matter how hard we try to hold it off. However threatening, we must face it, and we must face it alone.”

Sitters speaks of the darkness that came over his life after the tragic loss of his mother, wife and daughter during an automobile accident that left him, and three children to live on with this burden of grief. I have related to this book on so many levels because I believe the author writes and believes what I feel and what I know to be true about grief. It validates if you will my own struggles with how I grieved and where I grieved.

The darkness is a topic I’ve written about before and it’s primarily because it’s a place I resided for a long time after Brittany’s death. In fact, it’s a place I’ve resided for a very long time. Throughout my life of what I’ve coined as “unfortunate events” I have found myself to become a familiar resident in the darkness.

When I say darkness, I don’t mean black, I mean like murky water – sometimes unable to see my way through to the light. To find any good in what has happened to me. However as Sitter reveals – darkness is unavoidable and necessary to face one’s grief. Because you really have to face it. You cannot put it off nor can you dismiss it away to face another day – it will haunt you and it will keep haunting you until you face it squarely and walk through it. This is what I know to be true.

My walk through the darkness has had some good days and some not so good days. In the early weeks and months after my daughter’s death darkness was a scary place. I wanted to run away from it. I wanted it to go away because I didn’t like what I saw or couldn’t see but only felt. The pain was so gut-wrenching that I felt I couldn’t bear it another moment more. But I did. And I still do today. It’s just different.

Sitters believes, as I do, that we have a choice in how we grieve. How we look at our journey and how we can exist in the darkness and still see the light. The power remains within us to take the walk in the right direction. To face the pain and the sorrow right where you are in that moment can bring you to a place where light begins to crack through and the life you see before you can and will be joyful. Just different.

I have to say that facing your grief in the darkness can be exhausting. I continue to fight exhaustion to this very day. Why? Because the battle isn’t over. My struggle, anyone’s struggle with loss lasts a lifetime. It’s not over in a year, a couple of years or a decade. The loss changes you. It re-molds who you are right down to your very core. Life looks different, it feels different and some days it just doesn’t feel right. But you keep moving forward because it’s the only way to let the light shine through.

Sittser says “loss itself does not have to be the defining moment of our lives”. He goes on to say, “the defining moment can be our response to the loss.” I am in total agreement with the author here. I have written about this numerous times and I stand by it – we have a choice. The choice we make during these moments in life, whether it is personal tragedy or horrific loss – will define our future. It will mold you into who you are to become. Because, as I’ve said before, you are never the same after a loss. No matter how hard your friends and family wish that you are that same person, you are not. You can not.

“I absorbed the loss into my life, like soil receives decaying matter, until it became a part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it.”

That quote from Sitter really spoke to me as I have lived that and breathed that for the past four years. I have grown from my loss(s). I am a new person, one that sees life from a different perspective. The world didn’t stop revolving when I lost Brittany, although many times I wanted it to. Life kept moving on and I had to move with it or remain stuck in it. It was a choice I made then and I continue to make now. To live and to mourn simultaneously.

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

A Grace Disguised

Grief BlessingsLeave a comment

I’m so excited to blog through this next book “A Grace Disguised” by Jerry Sittser. As some of my dedicated readers know I have found it rare to find a book that can come close to seeing grief through my eyes. Although our experience of loss is not the same; for his is much more tragic, he chose the right words that so creatively and accurately describes my pain.

I hope you get something out of this series as I did reading his book. I highly recommend it to anyone who has suffered a loss for it offers hope, spiritual rebirth and a new-found belief that the soul can heal and grow through loss.

“The experience of loss does not have to be the defining moment of our lives. Instead, the defining moment can be our response to the loss. It is not what happens to us that matters so much as what happens in us.” – Jerry Sittser

In the beginning of the book the author writes about the previous edition and reflected back over the years of his experience. What I related to most was on page 19 of the book where he talks about writing. I believe as he does that writing about one’s experience, thoughts, feelings, emotions can be healing.

At times during my four years I felt as  if my writing would either make me or break me. In the early days the writing was so porous one could see my pain on the pages of my blog. I allowed many of my readers to “feel” my pain as much as I could. Not because I wanted to bring everyone else down; but to allow you to see that the clichés of the past needed to go about what grieving people need to do or should do. But to allow you to see what’s real about grief.

Sittser talks about being able to read his own journals and was able to see his journey and how far he’d come. How he had changed as a person. He believes as I do that the hope is that our words can bring help to others. But in no way does it diminish our own losses. That our losses are as real and horrible as they were the day they happened.

“The good that may come out of the loss does not erase it’s badness or excuse the wrong done. Nothing can do that.” – Jerry Sittser

So much of what the author writes about in this book has been very validating for me as someone who has suffered so many losses. So it is my hope that you, my dear and cherished followers and any of you who have come upon my blog for the first time, take a moment and reflect that even though our losses have been great. The power to heal resides within  us. It is how we live on that makes the difference between living or just existing.

until next time,

m

Seasons

Grief BlessingsLeave a comment

Seasons

by

Malissa Moss

As the sun sets in the west
the air is cool and crisp;
creating a sense that
it’s time to lie down and rest.

Oh my weary soul fights
back the sleep; for it is the
memories of seasons past
that keep coming back.

Fall comes and sorrow sets in
for it is the dark times that
prey upon me now. As the leaves
fall from the trees does my tears
fall from my face.

Winter comes and the snow falls
bringing holiday cheers and song
but in my heart there is no cheer
only a song of sorrow for a life lost.

Spring arrives as the birds sing of
joy to be warmed by the sun that
arises in the east. A time to see
growth and splendor beyond the pain.

Summer comes and goes so quick
as it brings back the sorrow again.
The cycle of my grief comes like
cycle of the seasons. Beginning with
Fall and ending with Summer.

the end