No matter the circumstance, saying goodbye to a child is the worst possible thing a parent can do. Saying goodbye can mean many things. Some children are buried, some cremated, and in some cases, unfortunately never found.

We visit their grave, their memorial or a special place in our home where we display pictures, trinkets, ashes as a way to pay respect; to pause to remember; to say “I miss you”.

We say their name to keep them alive in our hearts and minds. The pain of loss is so great, but it is far greater to forget because they are not with us in the present.

We say their name to validate their existence to those who never knew them. To remind us that we had a life before now where our child lived and walked this earth with us. That we had a part in their creation and birth. Our lives forever changed in their birth and in their death.

We go through their things to “feel” their presence. What they wore, what they drew or wrote. Their personal belongings. What they read or created for school. Photos and videos to remember they did exist. Not just in our memories, but they truly lived with us on this earth.

We say their name because silence is death itself, over and over again.

Say their name.

Brittany.

Until next time,

Mal

From my book Grief Blessings*:

On a short business flight a few years ago, I had the pleasure of sitting next to a young man in uniform. I noticed that as we reached cruising altitude, tears began to fall from his eyes, and he quietly began weeping.

Gently, I asked, “Solider, are you ok?”

He wiped his face and replied that he was flying home to bury his mother, who had just passed away unexpectedly. I offered my condolences, and we talked for a few more minutes. I told him that I had lost my mother, too, and that I understood, on some level, how he must be feeling. I encouraged him to write about her and all the great memories he had of her. We sat in silence the rest of the short flight.

While waiting to deplane, I thanked him for his service to our country and told him he would be in my prayers. He kindly thanked me, as a solider might, and walked off the plane. I often wonder about him, and when I speak of him even today, tears well up in my eyes because I felt his pain. It was so very palpable. I’d been there years before with a broken heart and an overwhelming sense of grief.

This story reminded me of the many opportunities we have to observe, listen and provide comfort to those who are just beginning this unfortunate journey.

Until Next Time,

M

*This material is protected by copyright.

Hello Friends and Readers,

I wanted to reconnect you with my book “Grief Blessings – A story of unimaginable grief and unexpected blessings.

Please visit my publisher’s page for information about the book and how to order.

https://store.bookbaby.com/book/grief-blessings

I’m grateful to each and every one of you. Especially those of you who have been with me for many years.

Mal

I’m sure many of you who have been on this grief journey for more than 20+ years have old videos, pictures and maybe perhaps audio of your loved ones. As I sat shuffling through old VHS tapes it dawned on me that time is of the essence to get them moved to digital.

I have tried in the past to do it myself. Even bought a VHS to DVD recorder, but those DVD’s won’t play on anything else but the same recorder. Frustrated, I left it be for years. I do mean years. But now I find myself determined to get this done. To find away to move these to a USB myself.

I don’t trust sending these precious memories off to a 3rd party to process. I fear the worst would happen and they’d be lost forever. Returning grief to a fresh and painful presence. So off to Google I went looking for a solution, which I found and it worked swimmingly. I have a lot to convert and I can’t wait to see how the rest turn out.

But all of this got me thinking how fortunate people are today vs how we managed 20+ years ago. Smartphones were not yet available, at least to me, nor my daughter. We both had flip phones which were archaic, if one admits. Technology has advanced so much and fortunately we are the beneficiaries of such. The memories we can have at our fingertips is a blessing for sure.

Social media sites like Facebook and Instagram are full of family memories. While, I feel fortunate to have videos and pictures of my daughter to look back on; but the quality isn’t as good as today. I have no videos or recordings of my mom. Her voice sorely missed from my life. All I have is a letter she wrote to me telling me how proud she was of me. When I truly need an uplift – her letter is where I go.

I can’t help but think how fortunate we are today to have such wonderful tools to document our life; our families and their lives. Such a treasure to have for a lifetime to share with others. We are fortunate these days indeed. Treasure that.

Until next time,

M

Over the years I have been in the middle of many storms. Storms of emotion from the loss of my daughter 18 years ago. I know some might say you seem so happy and well in a way I am. But not having my daughter in my life will always have a deep impact on me. Regardless of the time of year, whom I’m with or what is going on in my life. My life will always have a level of emptiness to it. It is what it is.

I will never pretend it away. Not for the benefit of anyone. Nor should I, nor should you. My storms will inevitably impact others in my life. I make sure everyone knows what they are in store for. I can’t make it any more clear – I will always have bad days. I will always see pictures of those who have their children and allow a tear to drop from my eyes and it’s ok. It’s normal. Don’t hide from me.

I have come to expect the quiet storms. They are a part of the journey. Ask anyone one who has lost a child, and they’ll tell you that. They don’t want you to walk away. They want you to walk along side them. Quiet storms are going on all the time. ALL the time. Don’t ever think for any minute that they do not. We walk often in silence. Quietly observing, wishing, longingly wanting to hug their child. It’s an emptiness that I can not, after all these years, define. It is vast and it is dark. It can’t be any other way.

Quiet storms are a normal part of life. Even having lost my mother so long ago, I still find myself wanting my mom. Yet she is not there. How do people go on? They do. It’s life. It’s hard. It’s rough. And mostly it’s lonely. This is the reality of a mourning mom, daughter, sibling. It is our cross to bear.

I’m thankful for my faith as it has carried me thus far. My friends and family are my rock. My partner is without a doubt the best thing for me. She teaches me about living life after loss, not because she knows it, but she loves me. Love is a gift to a mourning parent or child that can help mend the scar of loss. I’m grateful every day for my partner and my close friends and family. I can open the door of life with a smile, and I can also open my heart when it hurts, and they will not run. They wrap me with their love, and I cannot be anything but grateful.

Until next time,

M

Yet again….

As I sit here contemplating another Mother’s Day to endure, I cannot help but think about the many thousands of other grieving mothers who are experiencing this Mother’s Day from the perspective of loss.

I remember the first Mother’s Day after my mother’s death in late 1988. I had just given birth to my daughter and it was my first Mother’s Day – but the absence of my mother clouded that day for me. I struggled to celebrate for myself. This was a critical milestone in my life having just had my daughter just two months after my mom passed away at the age of 48. I felt the loss of my mom like no other. I needed her during this time in my life more than any other.

As the years waned on, I began to enjoy Mother’s Day because I had this beautiful girl who loved making me gifts each year to celebrate Mother’s Day. She was God’s gift to me. Once she became ill and diagnosed with a chronic illness, I struggled to understand why her. Why me. In a more global perspective – just why?

As many of you know, in October 2006, my daughter, and only child, passed away at the age of 17. She was one month shy of her 18^th birthday and a senior in high school. So again, I found myself struggling to breathe and especially on holidays. The first holidays were the worst.

Mother’s Day will forever be the worst day of them all. Some of you who read this will, unfortunately, understand this. Some of you never will. If you have not experienced this much loss, you cannot know nor could you understand. This is the time we need to have our greatest support from family and friends. The struggle is so profound. No matter how many years pass, the pain is still there. It always will be.

What I’ve learned over the years is that grief makes people uncomfortable. Especially those not directly impacted. It’s so important to stand with your friend or family member to support them. If you are the griever reading this – please reach out to someone who understands and can validate your sorrow. It’s real. If you are a friend or family member – go be with that person. Understand they are hurting no matter how many years have passed since their loss.

The world stands still on this day for so many mothers. The memories of their babies, children, adult children – all flashing back to the day when they were still alive. At the end of each Mother’s Day they are reminded of their absence in their life and we must be there to support, hug, love on them. Even those of us who are walking the same journey.

 

Until next time,

M

 

 

Grief is a powerful emotion that happens when a loss occurs. It’s a demonstration of the love you felt for the person who left us too soon.

Many times I’ve looked all over for a book that would help me understand what was happening and how to deal with the flood of emotions that seemed to overtake my whole life.

I struggled to find support so began to write. I started a blog that is still active today. After much feedback and recommendations, I decided it was time to write a book. The type of book that was missing for me and that I could share with the world in hopes it would help someone.

It’s available through my publisher BookBaby, Amazon or my blog.

#griefjourney #griefsupport #griefblogger #griefawareness #childloss #griefblessings

Thank you!

Mal

This topic hit me hard and in that moment I dropped what I was doing and wrote this post. These are my thoughts and feelings after losing my mom when I was 31 and pregnant. My father died a few years ago, and never really had a relationship with him for my entire 66 years. When we were in each other’s company (not very often), it was often strained and exhausting with the arguing and false statements he believed.

As a girl growing up, she needs her father. When a father is not there, for whatever reason, it leaves a sting that lasts forever. Always questioning “what did I do” or “why doesn’t he love us”. But when you are not wanted or wanted for all the wrong reasons – the fallout can be devastating. Everything I ever felt about myself was in conflict from my father’s leaving his children at a young age; and my mother’s consistent message that I could achieve anything I wanted. She was the wind beneath my wings. I thrived because of her and in spite of him.

When you live your life parent-less, there is a sense of un-belonging.

When you live your life parent-less, there is a sense of profound loss because you are no longer someone’s daughter.

When you live your life parent-less, unconditional love is gone.

When you live your life parent-less, there is a loneliness that cannot be filled.

When you live your life parent-less, a void exists that cannot be explained.

Thankfully, I’ve had wonderful people step into my life and provide “parental-type” love and guidance. But it is not the same as hearing your mom’s voice over the phone say “baby, I’m so proud of you”. As tears spill out my eyes, I’ve missed that so much. All I have is this one letter from her that I’ll cherish forever. She always believed in me, even when I wondered if I could ever fit in or succeed. Her faith is why I am who I am today.

Living parent-less in this world amongst those with parents is beyond hard. Especially when their parents are supportive and loving. Loss teaches you to be humble and grateful for what you had, but it doesn’t keep you from crying, hell weeping because the pain hits hard, especially around holidays. Even after all these years, it continues to be difficult for me to participate with a smile when the emptiness is clearly evident while you are in the midst of others who haven’t lost a parent(s). I put on a smile anyway and hide how I truly feel. Alone.

Until next time,

M

My mom

“One day you wake up and find your life is like a blank book with no characters and no words just you on every single blank page. It’s the same page after page after page. Blank, lifeless and meaningless. Then one day God reaches down and begins to place pictures and people and a story in your new book of life.” – Mal Moss

I wrote this in 2008, just two years after the unexpected death of my only child, my daughter Brittany. I’m fairly sure I was feeling I had lost my way, yet finding it necessary to move back into the lane of life. I felt I had no other choice but to figure it out.

Day by day I did. I worked very hard at starting over. It’s something I’d experienced a lot in my life, it wasn’t a new concept to me. But this type of starting over was very different. Not how I played it out in my head after having a daughter. Not after being so happy with the love I had for her. Where in the hell would that go now? All that love and light I exuded regularly, snuffed out in a moment.

Starting over was hard. I did it kicking and screaming the entire journey. Funny thing is I still do. I get uncomfortable when things get comfortable. Life has taught me that when things get comfortable and happy; things happen. Life dishes out a reminder that “oh wait” “it’s time to shake it up” Like a magician’s trick of removing a table cloth with dishes on top without upsetting or breaking a dish. But where it’s different is it didn’t go as planned; it didn’t go smoothly; in fact, it all broke into a million unrecognizable pieces. The life I once knew.

There is a tiny piece of me that feels a constant state of being unsettled. Grief does that. Anticipatory grief is real. And when you have had so much grief, loss and trauma in your life; well you learn to live with anticipatory grief. It might stay buried somewhere deep in your consciousness; but it is there. Waiting.

Back to my blank book. It is filled with so many good things now. People who are a part of my life now, who love me unconditionally and want the very best for me. I have a few long time friends who have stayed with me through thick and thin. My family who while at times tumultuous; has been there and supported me when I needed it. I know it wasn’t easy.

I keep adding new chapters to my book of life and I’ll keep trying to write a different story. But Brittany will always have that special chapter in my book. Always.

Until next time,

M

I’ve been struggling to find the words to close out 2023. Another year of surviving unimaginable loss. Another year of continued questions as to why. Another year of no answers. Then I remember that I may never have the answers as to why. Why grief came to visit me and became my constant companion for most of my life.

Grief has many faces. It comes in the form of trauma; life altering changes; abuse; failure; loss; mistakes are all examples for me. I’ve read many self-help books and had years of therapy to process it all. I even wrote my own memoir about my grief journey in hopes to help others feel they are not alone.

One lesson I learned through this journey is that all of these moments in my life happened to me; not because of me or who I was. In some cases, the decisions people made impacted my life’s journey. And in other cases my own decisions took me down a path I wasn’t meant to walk.

At times, my self-confidence shaken, my belief system torn and my faith shredded. Yet I chose, yes, I chose to overcome it. To rise above and regain control of where my life was heading. I did not want to be the victim or survivor but rather a thriver. To show not only myself, but others that one can rise above their circumstances. To thrive.

I’ve learned that life can be hard. Sometimes it kicks you to the ground so hard you think you may never get back up. But you do. The world is a crazy place today. Most days I don’t even recognize what is happening in this country and around me. It seems we are taking such huge steps backwards.

People hide behind their computer or phone and become experts based on something they read on social media or some cult leader. They choose their behavior each and every day. It’s truly disheartening to watch the news or read social media anymore. I just don’t understand where this world is going and it scares me more than I care to say.

Those of us who have had trauma and/or seen people die, or loved ones die in our arms, we understand things a bit differently. Life is short. Precious. Not guaranteed. Yet there is so much hate. Destroyed relationships. Divided families. There is a better choice.

I choose to get up everyday with hope in my heart and a will to put one foot in front of the other because grief and loss forced me to take the road less traveled. One that honors the lives of the people who’ve gone too soon. To show people there is another way to demonstrate love. Refuse to hate. Show compassion and lift others up.

This particular year has been what I call the “planning” year. One where I made decisions on where my life will be going and how I will get there in the coming year or two. I am and always have been in control of my destiny. I may have not always realized it but I’m certain the flame, while just a little flicker at times, was buried deep within my soul and became my motivation to pursue many of my passions. That flame is burning brightly now. Ready to purse my next adventure.

Here’s to 2024. New adventures. New goals. More love. Less hate.

Until next time,

M