Category: grief journey

Why Not Me?

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Continuing my series blogging through Jerry Sittser’s book “a Grace Disguised”. Looking at how his journey and my journey and quite possibly your journey have something in common and that’s Grace.

Chapter 9 – Why Not me?

People often ask the question “why me” when something bad has happened in their life. I know I have asked that question numerous times growing up and throughout my adult life till now. Even today as I face the uncertainty of uprooting and moving to a new city due to my job being eliminated I sometimes find myself wondering “why me”.

After Brittany died I wrestled with the thoughts of “why me” so often. I asked God on more occasions than I can remember “why me”. One day as I was having a discussion with a family member he said to me “why not you”, “why not any of us”. And it was in that moment that I realized that in this life, nothing is guaranteed. Nothing is fair and for the most part we are living a life in a world that often times could be described as painful, sorrowful, delightful, happy, robust, joyous, I could go on with various words to describe the many ways one sees their life.

In this chapter “Why Not Me” Sittser talks about thoughts of getting what we deserve, living a life of fairness vs a life with grace. I agree with him on this point: living a life with grace, even though it means living a life of loss at times, is far better than living life of fairness. Because living as a christian means we are all sinners and being extended grace by God makes the sorrow, the loss, the challenges of moving forward so much easier than to just have lost and be left with nothing. Grace is powerful.

I believe as does the author that we didn’t get what we deserved. As we are no better or worse than some people who have everything. Whose lives are full of abundance. To believe that life should be fair at all times is a belief that will and can lead you down a destructive path. As I stated earlier I often wondered and even believed I must have done something in my past life that caused me to have so much loss. It took me awhile and some therapy and a whole lot of grace to understand that it wasn’t anything I did – it’s just life.

I believe today and always will that, although my daughter’s death brought me so much pain and still does today, her being a part of my life for nearly 18 years was the  best part of  my life. Even though she was ill and had many hurdles she illuminated my life and brought me to the place I am today. I am a much better person for having her in my life than having not had her at all.

Now in the post Brittany days, I have learned to accept the grace that God bestows upon me each and every day. My job is to continue to accept it. Not because I deserve it or that it is fair and just, but because God is a God of grace. He wants me to be happy and to live an abundant life. It’s my choice to believe it and to receive it.

until next time,

m

The Terror of Randomness

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Continuing my blogging series from Jerry Sittser’s book “a Grace Disguised” here on my thoughts on Chapter 8 ‘The Terror of Randomness.

In this chapter Sittser describes what thoughts can race through your mind about why things happen when they do. Why did his family have to  be destroyed by this accident? If they had just left a little later or a little earlier it wouldn’t have happened. So many things occur on a second by second basis “orderliness” of how the world works that we just don’t give this type of thought any credence.

For me, I look at things differently since my daughter died. Her situation wasn’t random, however there are moments when I think had I done things differently or had I been more attentive – maybe she wouldn’t have had that seizure. The seizure that turned the world as I knew it upside down.

Sittser writes: “loss makes the universe seem like a cold and unfriendly place, as if it were little more than trillions of atoms colliding together with no predictability, no design, and no reason to it. Life just happens, whether good or bad.” I’m not so sure I agree with him here on this theory because for me I still believe things happen for a reason. Those reasons we do not know. But I do believe that we are here for a reason and we leave for a reason.

I know sometimes, even today I question God’s hand in all of the pain and suffering that happens in the world. The randomness of the violence that occurs every second. You see it on the news every day. It’s horrifying what happens to human beings daily in this world. Why? One could make themselves crazy asking that question. I do believe there is a randomness to what goes on in the world – and I also believe God allows it. I’m not sure why or the rationale behind it. But I believe God hurts and cries out when his people are hurting.

My daughter’s death, my mother’s death, my grandmother’s death and I could go on, has made me question on more than one occasion God’s existence. Or if he cared for me. Because in the common sense of it all I find it hard to believe he does exist or that he loves me. But it is my FAITH that sustains my belief that although I have had a rough life and some very bad things happen, he is here and he cares. That is the true test of my faith.

Finally Sittser speaks of hope. This is where I get real serious. I live in the very hope that I WILL see my daughter again in Heaven. I will see my entire family in Heaven when it is my time to leave this world. My terror of living the randomness of what has occurred in my life is quieted by the HOPE that I have in God and in my seeing my beloved family again. That is how I make it each and every day.

I too, like Sittser, believe that people who CHOOSE to live in HOPE are resilient. We get knocked down and we get back up and dust ourselves off and we keep going. That although life can be full of terrors and randomness – we feel or believe that life is worth moving on. In Sittser situation he has other children to care for and I believe that helps him in his belief that life is worth living. Me on the other hand, well I’ll call it a stretch as I have no other children. But I have an amazing family and group of friends that make life worth getting up for everyday. I have a job I love. Being a nurse, although not in clinical practice, allows me the privilege of serving others. And it is through the service of others that I find purpose and the reason to keep going.

Sittser talks about Job in this chapter, and for those of you who know my writings or are familiar with my story – I so love the book of Job. Job’s story was the one I identified with so much in the early days and weeks after Brittany died. I felt like the current day Job having lost everything I held dear. My daughter, my life, my home – I lost it all. Like Job, when I stopped asking why and just began to simple believe in God’s goodness did I truly find some peace. And the joy of life began to return.

The days are filled with joy now, but there are days when the darkness looms over me like a watershed of grief. So yes, I still live in that terror of randomness, but I also know it will leave me just the same way it came – quickly and unannounced. I just have to let it flow. Lean into God and He will keep me on course. That is what I know for sure is true.

until next time

m

A Sudden Halt to Business As Usual

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The continuing series of “a Grace Disguised” by Jerry Sittser with a reflection to how it relates to my loss.

Chapter 7

“Even the saddest things can become, once we have made peace with them, a source of wisdom and strength for the journey that still lies ahead.” – Frrederick Buechner

For the days, months and weeks after Brittany’s death I found as if my life had been put on pause. Or maybe a better description would be to say that I had been put on pause, as it seemed like life was  passing me by and I couldn’t figure out how to get back in it. I’ve used the analogy before that life seemed like a merry-go-round and I was either trying to figure out how to get off, or get back on.

In this chapter of Sittser’s book, he touches several topics and I find that it is necessary show you, my readers, what thoughts and feelings run through the  mind of someone who has lost something or someone. For if you don’t get this, understand this, you will not be able to grow yourself, as a person traveling through the journey with someone.

First Sittser shows us how life is like a motion picture. Although like a motion picture, life is like a series of snap shots put together and move quickly so that you do not see the break, just a flow of frames that make the movie. Slow them down and you can see the individual photos. I found that to an interesting viewpoint, as I too found myself staring at photos of moments I had remembered of Brittany, but the story seemed vague and the captions were missing. I liken it to be something like a flashback to a moment, random and without much forethought.

At first in the early days of my loss, I would look longingly at those pictures and want that life back. I longed for what was and I didn’t want anything to do with where I was standing. I would fall to my knees and just wail at the prospect of being in a life without my daughter. The photos were a constant reminder that I had lost so much and that the future didn’t hold much interest to me. Life for me as Sittser so adequately described it by the title of this chapter “A Sudden Halt To Business As Usual”. He couldn’t have said it any better.

Over time I have rearranged, put away, taken back out the many photos I had around of Brittany. I spent many months putting together a memory book of her life. In doing so I feel I have created a “story” if you will, her story in photos. Some days I can look through that memory book and enjoy them. Laugh at some of them. Then there are days like now that I can’t bear to look at them. It’s as if my heart is breaking all over again. When will that get better – I really don’t know.

Sittser also talks about regret and how it can plague you during  your grieving process. I spent an incredible amount of time in the “what if” stage. What if I had been more vocal about getting her more treatment, better doctors, screamed a little louder, demanded more. I was killing myself with regret for many months. I have to say that my daughter’s nurse Jennifer who was with us the entire night said something to me that I have held onto to this day and it does give me some comfort. In the moments after Brittany had passed and I was in the room alone with her, I said to Jennifer, “if I had only screamed a little louder at her doctors to do more months ago, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.” She said to me, “Malissa, you did more for your daughter over her lifetime, than most. Brittany has been like family here, we all knew her and you. You didn’t do anything wrong – you were the best mother I know”. So today as the tears flow I know I did what I could. That I did what was within my control. Everything else I have to let go of.

Living with regret can stifle your progress and healing. As Sittser says “Regret causes us to repeat a litany of “if onlys”….Regret keeps the wounds of loss from healing, putting us in a perpetual state of guilt.” I’ve lived there long enough. So today I am going to shred all of her medical history documents. I’ve been holding on to them because at some point I was going to sue her doctors and the ambulance company and I probably would’ve won. They were negligent. But that is not who I am. I have forgiven them, I now have to forgive myself.

“This destruction of the soul represents the tragedy of what I call the “second death,” and it can be a worse tragedy than the first. The death that comes through loss of spouse, children, parents, health, jobs, marriage, childhood, or any other kind is not the worst kind of death there is. Worse still is the death of the spirit, the death that comes through guilt, regret, bitterness, hatred, immorality, and despair.”

At some point, as Sittser points out we have to decide whether or not to allow these destructive emotions to conquer us. This is the turning point, I believe, in the grief journey. But what I find interesting is that it just doesn’t happen once. I can come back again and again and you have to be ready for it. Although I have made a choice to move forward in my life, to take ownership of my destiny, I still battle the bad days. I still find days when I just don’t want to be here. When I just look up to God and say why – why did you take the life I knew and my daughter whom I loved beyond words.

I haven’t yet, nor do I expect to get an answer, but I do know this: my life has to be a living testimony that God puts us here for a reason. We have a purpose and it is His job to make sure we get there, however it is our job to listen and follow. I still believe my purpose is to continue to show that you can recover and have a good life even in the midst of tragedy, loss and that it is still ok to stop and remember your loved ones, to talk about them as they are an important part of your history.

My future depends on me and how I choose to live it. I don’t want to have come this far only to live an ordinary life. I want to make a difference, not sure how or when, but at the end of my days I want to know God will be able to say to me “well done my good and faithful servant – well done”.

until next time

m

The Amputation of the Familiar Self

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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 Depths of Sorrow

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Continuing my series blogging through Jerry Sitter’s book “a grace disguised”.

Chapter 5 – Sailing on the sea of nothingness.

I remember this chapter touching  me in way that no other had because the author shared the very feelings I had been having during the weeks and months, and sometimes presently, regarding how to deal with the past, present and future after a tragic loss.

“Maybe the most sacred function of memory is just that: to render the distinction between past, present, and future ultimately meaningless; to enable us at some level of our being to inhabit that same eternity which it is said that God himself inhabits.” – Frances Buechner

Sittser opens the chapter describing his feelings about a dream of sailing on the ocean with this remaining family. As he gazed out beyond the boat he could see a lovely sight for which he wanted to visit, yet the boat would not go there. It’s as if it had a mind of it’s own and he had no control. I understood that analogy so well because that is what it was like for me when my daughter died. It’s the feeling like you have no control what has happened nor do you have any control over where you are going.

One of the key statements that Sittser makes in the first few paragraphs of this books is what I found to be both comforting and sorrowful. He said, “Loss creates a barren present….Those who suffer loss live suspended between the past for which they long and a future for which they hope.” I think this was the turning point in why I chose to continue reading this book initially after searching high and low for words that I could grab onto and feel like there was some kind of hope.

The bible gave me a lot of hope and filled my empty heart so many times; however, at some I needed to know, to hear, to believe that I was not alone in my thoughts. Because you begin to feel that you are living in a vacuum and nothing makes any sense. Things look foggy and it appears as if you may never see clearly again. Sittser’s book gave me some clarity.

I found people saying to me “but you have such great memories” during the weeks and months after Brittany died. But you see in the early stages of grief and loss, memories bring sorrow and wailing. A sorrow that has left you feeling amputated. And wailing that deafens the thoughts that continued to run through my mind about what happened. Reliving the moments, the twelve hours leading to her death.

Like Sittser, the memories did begin to bring some joy and even laughter as I could finally find a way to talk about her without it always bringing the last twelve hours of her life to the forefront. Even today I speak of Brittany and our life together because it is a part of me and it will always be a part me. I can’t turn away nearly eighteen years of life with her  because it makes someone uncomfortable to talk of the dead. Which has been a problem I have experienced with several people, close people in my life.

My ability to speak about Brittany and to remember the fun times helps to put the not so great times behind me. Not that those thoughts will ever go away, but talking about her and reliving the great times, reduces the painful memories and lessens the blow. A very important factor my friends if you are friends with someone who has lost a child or a loved one. Please don’t shut them down because it pains you to hear about someone talk of a loved one that has passed. It’s a tragedy all by itself.

One of things I’ve learned over the past four years is that the emptiness does begin to fade as you begin to live your life again. But it will never go away. It will always be there to remind you of just how fragile life is and will always be. We are one second away from our lives changing dramatically from loss. As Sittser goes on to say about loss “Can anyone really expect to recover from such tragedy, considering the value of what was lost and the consequences of that loss? Recovering is misleading and empty expectation.”

People can recover from illness, surgeries, etc.; however people who have experience a tragic loss will never recover because there is no going back to the life you knew. There is no going back to see your loved one. Life as you knew it and the future you dreamed of is gone. And the future will always have the loss as part of your life. But the hope, for me, has been that even though I thought I’d never make it past the first year, I have and I have seen joy and I have laughed.

As the years pass, I continue to see that the future for me is bright. But know that the past does create a shadow sometimes over my life as it can over anyone you know who has lost a child. On those days it’s critical to be there, be present and listen. Listen to the pain, listen to the memories and validate the life that has been lost no matter the time that has past. It is my job and those who have lost to receive that gift of grace that comes with validation and the presence of those who take the time to listen.

until next time,

m

The Silent Scream of Pain

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* 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

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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

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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

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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

Another Loss

Grief Blessings1 Comment

I am choosing to take a break from the book “A Grace Disguised” and wanted to talk about someone very special in my life that passed away Friday morning. Yes it is indeed another loss and for my family it just doesn’t stop.

My grandfather passed away Friday and just on the heels of my step-grandmother who passed away in late November. It of course falls in what I refer as the dark times for me as this is the time when I lost my mother and my daughter. I have gained two more reasons to not like this time of year. I spend many a day pining for January.

My grandfather and I were estranged for so many years due to various family reasons that I will not go into now. It didn’t help much that I lived out-of-state and didn’t travel back to Indiana but maybe one to two times a year. With such a big family to see, I spent my time with immediate family members.

It was only after my mother died that my relationship with my grandfather began to grow. I recall it being a very difficult thing for him to experience. Losing his daughter, my mother, so young truly was hard on him. I think it really solidified for him the sadness he had on his heart that their relationship hadn’t been a better one.

Once my family had moved from Dallas, Chicago and finally Michigan, trips to Indy were much easier and happened on more of a regular basis. So on every trip down we would stop in Anderson to see granddad and Irene. Brittany always looked forward to those trips. She enjoyed getting to know her grandparents.

Brittany only knew her father’s parents well and grandparents. Since my mother was gone before she was born, she only knew of her. My father and I are estranged, even to this day. For other reasons I will not get into here. So our trips to Indy always included a stop in Anderson.

Once Brittany’s father and I were divorced, I began making more trips down and visiting more with granddad. We would talk often about my mom and he would tell me stories. Always with a tear in his eye he would talk about how much he loved her and I felt that.

Brittany would spend time with him and he would teach her things like how to shoot a BB gun out in the back yard. She reveled in the fact that he would take her outside and spend quality time with her. She loved him dearly.

I have some really great photos of them together and two in particular made into her memory book. I will cherish those moments of them forever in my heart. I sit here with tears streaming down my face because the life I once knew is just that a memory, a moment in time that hurts like hell and no one really knows to the depths that my pain goes.

After Brittany died in 2006, my first visit with granddad was so very emotional. I recall as our eyes met, and the tears began to fall, that he knew my pain and I understood his for the first time. We both lost our girls. It was the bond that tied us so closely together and I think for the most part it was unspoken. We just knew.

Over the past four years as I have grieved the loss of my daughter, it has been my grandfather that has been most helpful in my feelings of being validated. That the pain and sorrow in my heart and that permeates my life was something he understood. I didn’t have to say a word. Now that one person who understood is gone too. And that is such a loss for me.

I wished I had seen him more often, but as life has it way of keeping one busy. My life has been crazy busy for the past few years. And I won’t apologize for it as it is what keeps me from going absolutely crazy insane from the sorrow I live with daily. But it has kept me from developing deeper relationships with those I love. I have a fear that when I let those close to me into my life in a deeper way – that they will die. Because it is what I have experienced.

Now I know that is ridiculous to hear and it is ridiculous for me to believe. So I work on that daily. I pray about it often and I talk about it with someone when I need to. As I always say my life is a work in progress. My faith in God carries me when I cannot take another moment of sorrow. It is God who lifts me up and brings me through.

Now my faith may look different to some of you who either know me or who read my blog regularly, but my faith – it is a simple faith. It isn’t all decorated up in man-made rules. It just simply knowing who God is and who He wants me to be. Shinning the light into a dark world by loving and loving only. No judgment, hate, discrimination – just simple love and acceptance. That is what I know is true. Anything else is just hypocrisy.

So to my grandfather – thank you for understanding me and thank you for the bond we had as it has helped me become who I am today. May you rest in peace and I know without a doubt you had one heck of a receiving party at the gates of Heaven. I know for sure my Brittany and mom were some of the first to greet you.

until next time,

m