Category: loss of child

As I approach the 3rd year of seeing another birthday, another Thanksgiving and another Christmas fly by without my sweet baby I feel myself being reeled back into this dark place that seems to always creep back in this time of year. Despite how much better I feel or how much progress I’ve made in my journey, the holidays always seems to bring a darkness that prevails until after January.

Despite my many failed attempts at covering it all up – it’s there. It’s become my new best friend. The expected visitor this time of year. A dark veil drops over my life and nothing seems to matter. The holiday lights look pretty, but they just don’t have that same glow.

You know she would be turning 21 this November 3oth is a milestone I dreamed of for so long and now I will not see it. Oh how I wonder what type of woman she would have become. I have all the faith in the world that she had already begun that transition into womanhood – because she was this beautiful flower just beginning to blossom into what she would become.

Her birthday is tough, but the holidays – well the joy of those days has yet to return. Attending a Thanksgiving with family is painful. Because she should be here. It’s wrong that she is not here to celebrate with the rest of the family. I would rather spend Thanksgiving alone, than to be around family where I am constantly reminded that she is not there by my side.

The tree that I force myelf to put up because I think that possibly one day it will make me smile. For me Christmas is about Jesus and his wonderful entrance into this world. But it also has family memories. Memories from my own childhood and then with Brittany. The tree is a symbol of a life once lived. A life I miss so much. A life I want back. But no that I cannot have back.

Holidays are the toughest time of year for us grievers. Having her angel date, birthdate, Thanksgiving and Christmas all rolled up into a 3 month period is just about too much to bear.  This is where I feel the lonliest, where I feel no one gets it. How could you? You don’t know, because you can’t know. So I suffer in silence, because sharing it openly is admitting I have to feel it.

I share it here on this blog, in hopes that someone, somewhere is reading it and knowing that what they are feeling is normal. And that it is ok to feel sad – because holidays are the worst time of year. But the new year brings with it a renewed hope that something new and fresh will happen and maybe, just maybe a new memory will be made.

Until next time

M

I wrote that title You + Me = US because I wanted to show how that how us grievers, no matter what type of loss you have experienced, we are all truly the same. I’ll explain….

Earlier I read about a little girl who fell out of a swing and hurt herself. She cried out for her mother. Her world that she knew, the fun-loving, exciting world of swinging just turned into a painful experience. The world she knew to be secure was shattered because of the pain. As she cried for her mother all she really wanted was the security of the world she knew before – the freedom of swinging.

We are so very much like that little girl. Grieving rocks our world. One day we are living life to the fullest, experiencing the freedom and love only to have it ripped from us like falling from that swing and finding our lives shattered because all that we knew was safe was now unsafe.

Unfamiliar territory so to speak. If you remember in the movie Alice in Wonderland as she spirals down further and further into a world she doesn’t know she becomes disoriented about where she is. That is what it is like to wake one day in a world you do not know. Where the very identity you understood to be true and safe is now gone. And you find yourself wanting it all back. You pray for it to come back. You wish for it to come back. You dream that it will come back. But alas it does not.

There is nothing wrong with wanting that familiar smell of our loved one. Or wanting to be hugged by them again. Whether it is a mother or a daughter or a son or a husband. All of those things that we miss about them we want back. Because those feelings feel good. They make us feel secure. But what we have to realize is that our steadiness, our support, our love and most of all, our emotional stability comes from God.

Once we realize that it is and always has been God who is in control, can we move forward in our journey. That is the security we need to keep us propelling forward. That security has been the very thing that has kept me going. In the early days it was reaching for familiar scripture to give me some assemblence of hope that I could survive. Now it is more than that – it is reaching out to others to tell my story that surviving is just the beginning of a journey that can be so much more than just surviving.

We are all like that little girl who fell from her swing and suffered a loss. The loss of what we knew was safe. We have endured storms, disasters, fears and much much more. But connected with God, establishing our relationship with the Father will help us to feel safe again. It will help us find our identity again. Then in doing so we shall find our world restored. To feel the safety of life. To begin our new journey. That journey my friends is one I can assure you will be so much more than you could possibly imagine if you would just let God do the work.

Until next time,

m

Grace Community Church > Grief

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My church is having a Remembrance Ceremony and Grief Workshop. I have gone for the past two years and I have found it very helpful. Even though most don’t really speak – but you feel a sense of community amongst the grievers that is very comforting. For they know your pain and you don’t have to explain it, you don’t have to be embarrassed to cry and most of all you feel accepted.

We light candles for the people we’ve lost and a video of pictures is shown of those who have gone before us. It is a touching ceremony and one that I feel is very important for grieving community members to attend.

Until next time

m

I get to teach my class about the art of active listening and it always seems to be a difficult concept for some to pick up. Not sure why that is but I do know it is something that we all could use a little refresher course in.

Active listening can mean many things. It can be used by anyone and it can be very effective in communicating or conveying compassion.  In order to be able to look at another viewpoint or another person’s perception using “borrowed insight”; you have to get your mind off of yourself and onto the person you are listening to.

I see the lack of active listening or looking at someone’s situation with borrowed insight as a way for us to avoid engaging with someone because it would make us uncomfortable. For example, when faced with the awkward position of having to comfort a person who is grieving, we find ourselves looking for any way to get out of it. To get a way from what makes us uncomfortable.

If you don’t think a grieving parent or a grieving spouse doesn’t pick up on that awkwardness, you are dead wrong. It becomes the very wedge between relationships with friends, with spouses and with family. All because we don’t know how to actively listen or to see with “borrowed insight”. I think in large part because we live in a “it’s all about me” society. We want it now or not at all.

That inability to stop and get quiet and focus on someone else is what keeps some people from moving forward in their grief. The voice that needs to be heard, the pain that needs to be released, the memories that need to be relived are silenced by the lack of compassion because it makes us uncomfortable.

Tonight I was listening to a group of leaders talk about how to manage a situation. I too found it hard to stay focused on what each person was bringing to the table. I kept thinking about what I thought would work or wouldn’t work. But then it happened. I heard a cry for help from someone and I heard it loud and clear. It was as if all the other voices were silenced and I heard her speak clearly.

So I know it works. Take more time to quiet your own agenda and get involved in listening to the pain and anguish of the people who are right in front of you. Because they are there, waiting for you to listen.

Until next time

M

Some days I am not the best at getting quiet and listening. Listening to nature, listening to people talk, listening to God. In fact, I keep the noise level so high I can’t even hear my own self think. But today I heard a voice and decided to act on it

While taking a walk today on a treadmill today I decided to listen to one of my podcasts called “Do It Again” by TD Jakes. Now I’ve written before about Bishop Jakes on this blog and how his ministry has helped me in my journey. Especially the times when I thought I couldn’t go on one more day. There he’d be giving me the very word I needed to hear.

Today was no different, in fact it was one a message I clearly needed to hear and probably need to hear again and again until I get it. It really helped me see I have a long journey yet to go, but one that is filled with hope and I’m ready to get it started.

You might think that I have already started my journey the moment my daughter died. But I have lived in the various stages of grief over the past 3 years and they have kept me from moving forward. Mostly I haven’t learned to love again to let love be a part of my life.

In order for me to move to the at next stage in my life, to be the person God intended me to be, I must learn to love again without fear of loss. Tonight during the Biggest Loser I watched Abby talk about that very fear – the fear of loving after you have lost everything. It’s not easy my friends.

But I do believe God places people like myself and Abby and the many other grieving parents here on earth to continue on a journey that will lead us to a higher level and he will restore what has been taken from us. He will fill up and heal our broken hearts. He will fill our lives with a joy like we’ve never known. And that is how it all starts…listening for His voice and believing in His Word.

Until Next Time,

M

Today as I was walking along the Monon I got a chance to think about what it means to have friends. I’ve been blessed to have a great many friends in my life and I have had some of those friends for many, many years. This past weekend I had a friend drive down from Michigan to spend time with me. It was during my walk this afternoon that I realized just how much I value her friendship.

This friend, Julie, is more than just a friend. She picked a time of the year to come and visit because she knows it’s not the best time of year for me. She remembers how tough it can get. So I would imagine you would think she must know what it’s like to lose a child. To be able to have such insight, but she didn’t lose a child. She just knows how to be a true friend.

That got me to thinking  how would you know what a true friend looks like. How have our past experiences taught us about friendship. I believe that friendship is far more important than we think. I believe we value friendship and probably always have, but what I also believe is that we take it for granted. How so?  Oh we have our little friendship clubs, our girls night out, or little cliques at work that we hang out with, girls that we go shopping with.

But it the friends that stand by you when the going gets tough. Even though they don’t know what to say, they come and stand by you anyway.  Even if it makes them feel uncomfortable. That is a true friend.

I think sometimes the hard part is recognizing when you are making friends, what type of friend will this person be. Will they be a socialite friend or one that you can count on. That they are your friend because of who you are, not what you are. How do you know? I mean how do we really know who our true friends are.

I thought I knew. A couple of times – I may have not been paying attention to the signs, but in the end I found out who my true friends where. The ones that despite how incredibily difficult it was to remain in my presence during a really hard time, they continued to stick by me. And I know it was very hard for them, because they didn’t know what to say. They didn’t know what to do. But they were there. Everyday. Calling me everyday. Remembering me on every holiday. Letting me know all the while that I mattered.

That they were my true friends, and I was their true friend for life. And that is what you do for people when they are grieving. Or when they have had a loss no matter what type of loss. When they are down, you don’t kick them and say “this is just too much for me to handle”. Because what you are saying is “I just can’t be your friend anymore.” That hurts more than  you could possibly know.

What you can do is walk beside them, be a presence in their life and say I’m here. It’s really that simple. You can not fix them, nor can you always have the right thing to say or do. But just being there and acknowledging their existence is how to be a true friend.

until next time

M

I wanted a perfect ending.
Now I’ve learned, the hard way,
that some poems don’t rhyme, and
some stories don’t have a clear
beginning, middle, and end.
Life is about not knowing,
having to change,
taking the moment and
making the best of it,
without knowing what’s
going to happen next.

~Gilda Radner.

I chose to write about joy because it seems to be sorely lacking these days. Everywhere I look it seems as if the joy has left so many people. Lost jobs, lost lives, lost hope. How do we find our joy? Where has it gone and have you seen mine?

It seems as if we spend an incredible amount of time pretending that life is just ok. That being just ok is “ok”. We are sadly convinced that mediocrity is an acceptable level to achieve. That it’s possibly the best we’ll ever see. I think that is incredibly sad.

The connection between this theory of mine and grief is a very close one. In fact, so close that at times it seems as if the stage I’m at now, may be the best it will ever get. Then I think to myself “God didn’t leave me here without my girl, my mother and my grandmother to live a mediocre life”. Surely there has to be something better out there for me. A reason to look up and say “thank you God for blessing me in the midst of my grief.”

Some days that ability to look up is hard. There are days when it is easier to look down. Because people often put you there, not because they want you there. I don’t believe this is on purpose, but it’s all some people know. The lack of support or empathy creates a sense of self-doubt in the griever. That sense of self-doubt keeps you from moving forward.

Self-doubt keeps  you from seeing the joy. The joy that comes when God puts people in your life that  you would have never expected to come into your life. People who don’t even know you that well, go so far to care for you and extend their joy so that you can feel better. It continues to surprise me that the majority of my true support comes from the kindness of strangers.

People who want to hear my daughter’s story. People who want to know about her. That aren’t tired of hearing her story. My story. It makes me see joy again. A feeling I haven’t been so sure I’d ever feel again. I remain thankful to God for his continuous blessings as he brings people in and out of my life that leave a mark of love and joy on my very broken heart.

It’s important because the mending of my heart has begun because of the care and concern of strangers who care for someone they’ve never met nor may never meet.

Until next time

m

I struggled with a title for today’s post, but couldn’t find one that wouldn’t have some level of discord to it. I don’t ever want to offend anyone, but what I do want to do is move people to think differently. Differently about grief. Differently about how you grieve. Differently about how you treat people who are grieving.

Recently I was discussing grief with a good friend and the conversation came to a place that I don’t think I have been able to convey verbally to anyone.  She explained to me that when your child dies a physical, spiritual and mental part of you dies too. And I can say that without a doubt she hit the nail on the head. The very concept is what I have had my biggest struggle with when it comes to communicating my pain to my family and friends.

So often we want our grieving loved ones to “get over it” or “move on” or better yet get back to your “old self”. So we grievers we try and try to “get over it” and to “move on” but you simply cannot. Life is not the same. It will never be the same. Everything you knew to be true is gone. Everything you hoped for has been destroyed. It’s as if you have been sucked up into a vacuum of nothingness. A vast cesspool of life.

So what do you do? You try and find some sense of it all and recreate who you are to be now. And I can tell you without a doubt for me, it has been the most difficult part of my journey. Finding out the new me. What my purpose is here on earth. Why I am here still I do not know.

I feel like life is passing by so very quickly and I keep looking for the open door to go through to my new life. Yet each door is locked. I reach out in faith to turn that doorknob and it simply doesn’t turn. My face flat against the door sobbing and crying out to God “which door” “what do you want from me” “why can’t I find the right door”?

I remember writing once “There is a fine line between the space I exist and the space I want to be.” That is how I see my life now. Existing in a space I don’t want to be, and unable to cross over to the space I need to be.

Until next time

m