This is a lovely tribute to someone who has lost a loved one. Inspiring….
Until next time,
m
Category: grief journey
The space is still vacant – never to be lived in again. Locked away for the day when we meet again.
Vacant Space
There was a time when life was full
and we were always running the race
but now after these long 3 years
my life has become this vacant space.
There was a time when life was busy
and we were always running the race
always looking for more time to spend
but now all that exists is vacant space.
There was a time when life was so right
and we took it all for granted;
believing the joy would never end
but now all that exists is vacant space.
There was a time when I laughed at your jokes
and cried when you were hurting;
knowing that I would always be your mom
and you would always be my daughter;
but now all that exists is vacant space.
There was a time when you showed me
what it means to live beyond your ability
To imagine the world…
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The Box
I have felt the urge to open the box. You know, that box I put neatly together nearly six years ago that would forever hold safely the memories of my daughter. I typically reserve this ritual for her angel date 10-13; however when the spirit moves you – you move. I got myself a cup of coffee, not sure why, as I have found it difficult to go through this exercise without large volumes of tears, tissues and drinking anything seems nauseating. As I sat down to open the chest that contains the remains of my daughter’s life I felt that this time something would be different. And I was right.
I first took out the photos I have of her and family, with her friends and the few picture of us together. They still make me smile. There have been some incredibly beautiful photos of her taken over the years. In two instances by my dear friend Cyndi at Inspirations Photography in Grand Rapids Michigan. Those I cherish so much because Cyndi was able to capture the beauty of my daughter in ways we had not seen. We knew of the beauty in her heart, as did some of her closest friends – but to capture it on film – priceless to a grieving mother.
As I moved through the chest I remove things and look at them like prize possessions. Then I arrive at the “box”. This box contains some of my most private memories of Brittany. They contain stories, emotional significance and most of all my connection with her.
As I remove the lid and see the first picture of her – the one we put up at her celebration of life – I am left with a feeling of wonder because she was truly a beautiful spirit and taken way too soon – in my opinion. As I lifted up the photos to uncover the next memory – her blanket. The one that used to cover her bed and at the hospital covered her body while she fought for her life. I grabbed it and buried my face in it hoping to smell her – but it was no longer there. That scent I had become used to when I opened the box in previous years – I cried tears of sadness into that blanket and then moved to the next item. Her stuffed bear that she received from her boyfriend Andy while she was at Cleveland Clinic weeks before her death. I hugged that bear and cried some more.
Then I saw a couple of the t-shirts I had saved because she loved them and wore them often. I brought them to mu face and again, her scent has faded and they no longer smelled like her. Things have changed. Something is different this time. I was hesitant to move forward in fear of finding that the last remaining connection I had with her would be gone.
Next I moved to her glasses. I have written about this glasses before. They had a powerful connection in the early years. You see Brittany had her glasses on while working at her desk. Sensing something was up, she removed them and placed them safely on the desk, and then she must have begun her seizure. So the last thing she saw was through those glasses. The first time I picked them up – there was such energy with them. Now, it is gone and they are just simply a pair of glasses. This made me so sad and I cried a river. There was too much change going on here and I almost closed the box again as I couldn’t take it anymore. But I pulled myself together as something else caught my eye.
After Brittany passed, the Child Life team came and took pictures of her and they took a casting of her hands. Her father and I have one of her hand prints that is cast in this plaster casting. I painted it a long time ago in a color that would represent a life-like skin color and put it away. I reached for it and set it out. I looked at it, like I’d never looked at it before. Then I placed my left hand on top of her print and there it was – the connection – knowing it was an extension of her. Each finger was just like hers at the time of her death. I sobbed.
After reading a few cards, the newspaper stories about her passing I realized that again – she was such a gift from God. That for a short time she was the best thing that ever happened to me. She made my life complete. And now that she is gone – it no longer feels complete. It’s empty in a way that I cannot begin to explain. I know that only mothers who have lost their children understand it. There is no filling it back up. That is not possible. The one thing I do understand is that love has been taken from me so many times; my heart has been broken by loss more than once. While I am able to keep moving forward and building my new normal; there is a price.
Love doesn’t come easy for me any more. I don’t trust it. Each time it as visited me it has left me broken in pieces and my faith in love is once more reduced to the thought that it is not what I am supposed to be doing with my life. It would seem that the normal life would contain love, joy and happiness. I’m not saying it’s not going to be mixed with time of sorrow. But for me – maybe I was never intended to have a normal life. I haven’t had it so far and maybe I need to quit trying to find it. Because it’s not there. It’s not what I am to be.
Today, I am in a succesful job which I love. I have done great things with my career. I have continued this blog in hopes of helping other grieving moms – but love – I find that to feel odd, not normal and just plain painful. Love to me equates to loss. It has been repeated over and over in my history. It is what has made me a strong person. Why I am so successful in my business life. But my personal life…. I’m in a place I don’t know how to move forward. That means I’m stuck somewhere. I will need to continue to process that.
until next time
m
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FMLA – a necessary amendment
http://www.petition2congress.com/3937/modify-family-medical-leave-act-1993/wt/?src=widget
Please sign this petition if you believe grieving parents need protected time off after the loss of a child.
Until next time,
m
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What You Don’t Know
I woke up this morning compelled to write about something you may not know. If you have lost a loved one, particularly an only child, then you might have an idea of what I am going to say here. If you haven’t, then you might find it helpful if you know of someone who is in the grieving process. Let me quickly define that for you: it’s a lifetime of grieving. You might think that might be a bit extreme. Well life gets extreme some days and there is this little caveat about grief. Life happens and in the midst of life at any given moment we (the grievers) are back at the moment of our loss. This is how it works.
As time passes, the loss becomes part of you and you learn to live with the consequences of it. For the most part you can go about your day-to-day life and have some happy times, some laughter and even some joy. But there are dark times and there are moments when all of a sudden you are back revisiting the empty place in your heart where your loved one once lived. And I mean lived. Not saying that they are not there today, but it’s different.
Conversations take place in life and reminders are sent, unconsciously by others, and it’s as if you can no longer hear anything else that they are saying. All that you hear is deafening sound of grief hitting you like a tsunami and once again you are at your knees asking why. And again, you get no answers, you get back up and you dust yourself off and get back into the conversation. I welcome the times when there are periods of time between these moments. They are exhausting to me. They knock the wind out of me. They make me feel incredibly lonely.
I miss my daughter so very much. It’s a pain that I cannot describe, but I try and perhaps one day when I get it right, I will no longer feel the need to write. I don’t think that day will ever come. So I write for me and I write for all of the grieving mothers and fathers out there who may not have a voice. Who don’t know the that the power of writing can be healing.
Today the band-aid has been ripped off again. When that happens, the pain is just as powerful as the day she died. Thankfully that doesn’t happen too often, otherwise I’d not be able to stand it. Tears sting my face as I write this today. October is coming and the freight train of grief is on it’s way. I’m getting my armour on and will be ready. It’s coming and it’s loud and I can feel it in my bones.
Until next time
m
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What Grief Teaches Us
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To Live and Mourn Simultaneously
“To Live and Mourn Simultaneously” for the title of this post because I truly believe it adequately describes how life goes on after a loss.
“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.” – Jerry Sitser
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, darkness is unavoidable and it is necessary to face one’s grief. There is no avoiding it – 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.
When it comes to making a choice on how we grieve, and we do have a choice, we have to look at the big picture. 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 grief in the darkness can be exhausting. I continue to fight this 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 – it’s never over. 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.
While loss doesn’t define who you are it is your response to it that defines who you will become. 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.” – Jerry Sitser
That quote from Sitter really spoke to me as I have lived that and breathed that for the past few years since my daughter’s death. As I sit here today remembering my mom, whom I miss dearly. She has been gone so long now (September 16, 1988), the memories are so old and few, but I cherish them more. My grandmother died 5 years later and then I became bitter because the two great women in my life who had the most influence on the woman I had become were gone. Gone during a time in my life of great change, becoming a mother and career changes. Those losses took the wind out of me for a while. I felt deflated. I felt like so much had been taken from me and I couldn’t understand why. It was hard to watch my friends go through their lives – births of children, etc. and have their moms at their sides. Yes I was so bitter.
But yes, I have grown from my loss(s). I have grown into this new person, one that sees life from a different perspective. While I won’t deny that I have moments of anger about my losses, times when I want to chuck something across the room when I see a scene on TV about a mom and daughter; overall I have accepted these losses, but not without a price. I live everyday with a sense of loss that no one else will ever understand. So I fill my days finding purpose in what I do. It helps to fill the void.
Of late I have found that I have been distracted from my journey – result has been that I have lost my step. I liken it to walking down a path and falling off the curb. What do you do? You get up, dust yourself off and keep moving. Get back on track. That is what I have to do now. Writing is one of those things. Mentoring other grieving parents. Speaking out about grief and the journey. Being a great nurse. Providing the best care I can in the role I am in now. That is my purpose. And I will fulfill it with every fiber of my being. But there is a price.
In 2006, the worst loss of all happened, but the world didn’t stop revolving when I lost Brittany, although many times I have 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
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Are You Using Your Gifts
Gifts from God come in so many packages. Whether it be writing, speaking, mentoring, jewelry making, etc; they are gifts that have been given to us by God. We choose in life to use those gifts in many ways. In loss it is no different. The cloudiness of our spirit can, at times, keep us from seeing those gifts and can often keep us from having enough energy to see them. The most important thing to know is that in order to climb out of our loneliness, our grief, our brokenness we must try to use the gifts God has given us.
The evidence of the Spirit’s presence is given to each person for the common good of everyone” – 1 Corinthians 12:4
The gifts that God has given me and more importantly allowed me to see have given me a sense of meaning. A purpose in life. Those of us who are in this group understand all too well that “purpose” is one of the hardest things to feel after you have suffered a loss. I understand it because having lost my only child, one that had chronic illness most of her life; my life revolved around her. After her passing – it’s as if the world stopped for me. As I stood on the outside looking in, it was going around at a pace that I couldn’t find my way back on. Time has allowed for me to get back on because of the gifts I have received.
Those gifts first started out through writing my journals. Then some of my followers gave me strength, when I had none because they spoke of how my words helped them. So I kept writing. As a creative person, I also like to design things. So I tried my hand at jewelry making and found I was pretty good at it. I still do it from time to time and on special occasions, but mostly I write.
One of the gifts I enjoyed prior to Brittany’s death was photography. After she died I lost all interest. Didn’t care if I ever picked up a camera again. But as God has His way – I was asked to join my brother and his wife-to-be in Cabo San Lucas for their wedding to take their pictures. This was about 3 months after Brittany passed. I think I was still walking in a fog but agreed to do it as I needed a change of scenery from the cold winter in Michigan.
This gift I was given to see beauty and elegant behind the lens was intriguing to me. It made my heart race and brought me a small amount of joy. But after returning back to Michigan – the loss – the empty house – the cold – it all brought reality back to me broken heart and I put the camera down.
A few years later I was asked again to take the wedding photos of a dear friend and co-worker. And again I felt the rush and joy that being able to capture special moments would bring me. I had so much fun giving the results of this gift to my friends. It gave me purpose.
I have been given many gifts. I use them to give gifts back and I use them in my everyday life at work. It gives me purpose. It gives me hope. My challenge to you all is to sit in a place and let God reveal your gifts to you. Then take a step in faith that your gifts will not only bring you joy but will give you a sense of purpose and in the end, will give those whose lives you touch a special gift of love and joy. Pass it on…..
until next time,
m
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Living in the Present
Photo from Oprah.com
Walking into the present and future is very hard when you have lost a child, especially an only child. But if we are to make a difference in the world, if we are to come along side those who join this journey, then we must walk towards healing and peace. We have much work to do to help our fellow friends in grief.
Until next time,
M
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The Long and Winding Road
I have sat many a long night not knowing where I’d go or how I’d get there after my daughter’s death. I found God’s word to be the only truth I could find to help me see what I had to do to keep moving forward. My marching orders so to speak where very simple, finish well.
While I know that this term “finish well” may sound daunting to a person who is fresh in their grief, but for those of us who are earning our way through the journey, one day at a time, “finish well” carries a very important message. One that we forget when we hit a bump in the road. When life gets turned upside down and we look all around us and cannot find our way.
What does finish well look like? John Terveen said it very well in his book “Hope for the Brokenhearted”. In chapter 12 he reminds us of Paul’s journey and encourages us to finish the race as he finished his. Terveen states that “whatever length our life’s course may be or however challenging the terrain, each of us is called by God’s grace to finish the race of faith, hope and love set before us.
I think about this race I’m on daily and some days I get it right and other days, when the days are dark and I miss my daughter so much and I grow tired of the race; I know that if I give in, I have not finished what God has asked me to do. I have to keep my eye on God and my faith in Him to make the distance. And while I’m on this race, the race I did not sign up for, I am also given the instruction to extend love, grace, prayer and mercy to those who have joined me on this journey.
I find that in the times when it is dark and I have lost my way, it is because I have let the light flicker and lost the sight of my way because I lost my faith. Without my faith, I have nothing. Without my God I would have finished far too soon and the task that I have been given unfinished.
Often I have been tempted to abandon my faith because I got tired and became weary of the long journey of sorrow. Just as a runner who prepares for a marathon, you have to prepare mentally and phyically for the challenges a long marathon will have. The punishment to your body that will result. You need proper nourishment and hydration to maintain your ability to finish the race. It is the same for us on this journey in life that has dealt us a devastating blow like death of a child. We have to find our nourishment and maintain good health to finish the race. We have people to love, grievers to hug, be the hands and feet of Jesus during our race.
In order to keep the faith and press on, we need to take care of ourselves first so that we can care for others, the ones that are put in our path for a reason. To care for and love. To mentor and walk with when they fall. So if you find yourself in a place, like I do, remember to pray this prayer:
Dear Lord: In the face of my suffering, sometimes I question you and your ways. I am troubled and I find it hard to keep going. When this happens, please help me to remember that your love never fails and it never gives up and it never runs out on me. – AMEN
My dearest followers – I too find times when it’s hard to see the path, to find my way – the road looks dark and the weariness of my soul speaks loudly so that I cannot hear what I know is true. God’s love never fails, it never gives up and it never runs out on me. So take great faith in God will not run out on you or given up on you or never fail you. Press on…..
until next time,
m
Unimaginable Grief Unexpected Blessings 
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