Tag: grief

Blessings

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Today’s message from Andy Stanley is part of a series called “When God?” I find these messages always seem to come this time of year when I am in reflection and need a reminder of although it might appear God isn’t answering me, or listening to me, He is giving me something you cannot buy or wish and that is GRACE.
 
As I end a 4 day time of reflection of what I have lost I am also reminded about the magnitude of Grace that God has bestowed upon me over the years to keep moving forward. It’s not always easy, but through my trials and losses, God is raised up as it is He who lifts me up each and every day. – my post on Facebook and Twitter today

http://www.buckheadchurch.org/messages – link to get to the messages if you are interested.

 

A very special song from Laura Story – Blessings that touched my heart.

It is my wish for each one of  you who follow my blog and find yourself wondering “When God?” – this song is for you and the messages from Andy Stanley may be just what you need to hear.

until next time,

m

 

 

Gethsemane’s Garden

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Chapter 10 from Grieving Forward –  Embracing Life Beyond Loss by Susan Duke

One of my most favorite stories in the bible is the story of the Garden of Gethsemane. You might think that it is odd that one would like this story, but it has an uncanny parallel to how I felt and at times still do. My journey over the past five years since Brittany died has been the most tragic, sorrowful, painful but on the other hand, its been joyful, filled with gratitude and thankfulness.

The story of Jesus and his experience with his disciples during the last hours of his life resonated with me as it played on through the words of Matthew. The Garden of Gethsemane is where Jesus felt such sorrow and grief. Where he spent time with God reconciling his life and understanding the outcome that was before him. He also found out what loneliness is and how it comes with grief like a dark cloak that covers your body. It would seem as though you become invisible to those around you. That the grief you carry is only seen or felt by  you alone. 

Time after time, in the garden Jesus anguished to his Father and to his disciples. His disciples all but ignored him. Falling asleep even though Jesus had asked them to pray for him. When I wrote about the garden before it was from a different perspective. I saw the disciples and their disconnect from Jesus as a similarity to something I was experiencing early on after Brittany died. I felt as if I was grieving and my heart breaking and I felt so alone. I talked to God constantly and asked repeatedly why – why me – why her – why now. The silence was deafening.

But now as I have matured in my grief and I have come to understand it better and I have learned to give it the respect it demands. Duke speaks of the power of acceptance. Takes a long time to get there in my opinion. But I do believe with a strong faith and a great support network it is possible. My loss has so many different facets to it. The grief started when Brittany was first diagnosed with Epilepsy and Crohn’s Disease. You grieve the loss of having a child that is normal. You come to accept life will  be different. But when you lose a child suddenly with little warning – its unspeakable the damage it leaves behind. I can only compare it to the worst train wreck, or earthquake and the devastation it leaves behind. Nothing makes sense, life seems unreal and you can’t figure out what to do next.

It is and always will be my faith that carries me through this journey. And I say through, because you don’t ever, ever get over this. You just get through it. God gives me just enough to move forward every day and it is possible to see joy and love life again. It’s just missing a small piece – just enough to make it a little uncomfortable. That is where I am today. Feels uncomfortable and at some level broken; but through those tiny cracks is the ray of hope, faith and grace that God bestows on me each and every day. For that I am grateful.

Until next time

m

It’s been a while….

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I have been so busy these past few weeks with work and school that I haven’t had the time to write. And that explains why my heart is heavy. Writing these  past few years has been so healing for me, and now that I’ve been away from it – I can tell it’s been awhile. So I will write – but please know when I do it’s a good thing even while the topic may be heartbreaking and words may sting – it is healing.

Part III – Chapter 9 – God’s Night Light

from Grieving Forward Embracing Life Beyond Loss by Susan Duke

By his light I walked through darkness – Job 29:3

Susan talks about the light of God and how he gives you enough lite to move forward even though it feels you are going backwards in your grief. I felt that often during the early months and first year after Brittany’s death. It seemed so dark at times, I wasn’t sure I would ever see light again. My life seemed empty and my heart heavy – I became so very tired of the dark. Now the dark only comes during October and it lasts until January. I have to reach way down during these months and put myself in the hands of God because I cannot do this alone.

During the dark night of your soul there will be moments when God strikes a match and rekindles your hope. Through your darkened corridors of grief He lights a candle to renew your faith and show you He is there. In the early stages of grief, when your view is clouded with sorrow and you long to take giant steps into His healing light, God is depositing eternal treasures within your heart. – (page 98 – Susan Duke)

The above passage is one of my favorites from the book as she so eloquently describes my path. Although in the early months and years I wasn’t able to see that light, I came to know God was working on me to keep moving one foot in front of the other. To remind me that although my greatest treasure was just taken from me, that I had a purpose. That I was here for a reason. But I still needed a light to find my way.

So now I am entering the what I call the dark times. The time where I am constantly reminded of the gravity of my loss. The lingering effects of my loss and the value of life that I still carry. October 13th will be the 5th year since Brittany’s death. Does this, all this mess, get any easier – maybe – just a little. October is October and I doubt that I’ll ever be glad to see it again. November isn’t much better as the holiday season begins and I see moms and their daughters at the mall doing the things I should be doing with my Brittany and all the pain, the sorrow and the grief flood the gates of my heart again and again. Till I have nothing left.

Her birthday, Christmas and New Year’s – they all bring wonderful memories. But they also bring a longing for her that I will never again know. To hear her laugh and to feel her hug – that is the worst feeling. That kind of emptiness is indescribable. So yeah, this time of year is what I call the dark times and although I try very hard to roll with the holidays, I really just want to crawl up into a ball and sleep until January. But instead I have to crawl up into the lap of Jesus and let him comfort me. It was the best advice someone gave me when I was at the bottom of my despair two years ago.

So if you know me, light a candle on October 13th and say a prayer that God will show me that light. If you know anyone who grieves over the loss of their loved one, especially a child. Light a candle for them and pray that God shows them the light. It is that light that clears the way down the path of grief into the light of hope.

until next time

m

Coping with special occasions

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Chapter 7 from Grieving Forward – Embracing Life Beyond Loss by Susan Duke

I’m actually passing some of the material in this chapter as I’ve visited the topic of gifts many times before. Decided I’d review something I believe is so very important for a grieving parent. A topic Duke talks about mid way through this chapter – dealing with special occasions. I think it continues to be a very source of anxiety for me even after nearly five years since Brittany’s death. The longing for things to be as they were and knowing they cannot be is often so painful that there have been times I just wanted to sleep through them.

I’m about to enter what I call the dark days again…..they just keep returning each each around September and stay until New Years. It’s a time of great memories and great heartache. Some days the memories are so profound and magical that I find myself so thankful I can recall them. Then there are days when the memories are so hard to handle. Duke relates so well to this issue that she states “Even years after our loss, despite how much healing has occurred in our lives, certain events often make us wish we could cancel these dates from the rest of our lives.” I too feel that way – still today.

There are things we can do to help ourselves and others during these times and I would encourage you all to be mindful that the holidays are the worst time for those who have lost loved ones. It can be a lonely time. And it can remain that way for a very long time.

While attending Grace Community Church in Indianapolis, I enjoyed the Remembrance Service the church put on each fall to help remember those loved ones that had gone on to Heaven before us. It was a bonding experience with those, like me, who had to deal with the on-going pain of the upcoming holiday season. I will  miss that this year. Now I find myself having to find another way to release that memory, that pain for it overshadows everything I do during the holidays.

Making new memories has been hard for me, moving back to Indy helped me reconnect with family that I had lost touch with over the many years of being away. Now I find myself in a new city, facing this holiday with an uncertain plan. I must however have a plan. It’s so important for me to ensure my ability to make new memories, while respecting my past life with Brittany. It’s a delicate balance and one that I can’t afford to be without.

It is so important to bring a season of celebration and love from the one who has been lost because it marks the blessing that enriched your life for a different season in your life. Creating a sense of celebration and new traditions allows you to incorporate the blessings of the old life with the blessings of the new life.

Some of the traditions I have today are from the great woman who raised me. I choose to light a candle for Brittany on her birthday. I eat macaroni and cheese because it was her favorite food. I wear the dog tags that were made by her friends for her Celebration of Life for the month of October and her “Brittany” bracelet for the month of November, her birth month. For Christmas I hang a special ornament or two just in memory of Brittany.

It’s all bittersweet sometimes and I have to allow the tears to fall. But I would never, ever trade one day of those memories of my life with her. It’s the days without her that are at some times unbearable, but it’s those moments with her wonderful smile or her funny wit that I am reminded of a beautiful spirit that surrounds me everyday and that spirit is my daughter.

until next time

m

Unrelenting Faith

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Today at church we started a series on “amazing stories” and today’s was on the story of Noah. This sermon really spoke to me because the way that the pastor, Clay, told of Noah’s story and as I sat their listening it was beginning to sound like how I, a grieving parent, goes about my life even today.

I don’t know how many of you know the story of Noah, you know he built the Ark, the big boat that took his family and two of every type of animal/creature and floated about during the worst time in biblical history. The flood.

As I sat there and listened, I saw very clearly how Noah’s faith was greatly tested as he built, and built and built the ark. Year after year he got up every morning and proceeded to build the ark. For over 100 years he built this ark, in faith, that God would use it as he said he would. 100 years is a long time my friends. But Noah didn’t give up, he didn’t waver he just kept building.

As our pastor eluded to during the message that you wonder how often Noah might have questioned why he was building an Ark. When was the rain going to come as God said. Maybe he would have given up. Why didn’t he? Faith. I believe Noah had great faith and belief that God would deliver and He did.

So how does that relate to a grieving parent? Well it takes great faith to get up each and every day, praying, hoping, believing that God would show me the way through the murky waters of grief to a life that would have purpose again. After Brittany’s death each minute of each day was filled with pain and sorrow. But I carried my bible and I prayed, in belief, that God would carry me through. My faith was greatly tested during this time. Because the mother in me couldn’t see past the grief.

The path was so dark, paved with so many memories that I barely could breathe. As the weeks wore on and my faith continued to wane, I still held on. I know, in looking back, that God’s plan to bring me through a horrible tragedy was there, yet I couldn’t perceive it while in the midst of it. It was my faith that believed that God would help me through to the next day, the next week, the next month. And now, my faith continues, to get through to the next year after year. It’s a process.

Faith is always a process. A work in progress. The weight of grief and the burden it creates is very hard to bear at times. Without faith, I can’t imagine how I could have made it thus far. For it is my faith that I am still moving on, moving forward, still believing that I have purpose. I’m not so sure my purpose has yet to be revealed, but I will continue to have faith that God will show me the way.

In the meantime, I’ll keep waiting for my white dove to show up and tell me it’s time to get off the boat and step into my new purpose.

until next time,

m

A Community of Brokenness

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Chapter 13 – A Community of Brokenness
by – Jerry Sitser

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

until next time,

m

A Sorrowful Night

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I won’t lie I did something I haven’t done in a while and that’s I cried myself to sleep last night. You see I’m in that period of the dark times where Thanksgiving is upon us and my girl’s birthday, what would have been her 22nd birthday, follows shortly thereafter. And then there is Christmas.

I was feeling very sad last night as I lie in bed thinking to myself “why is life so damn hard” “why aren’t things falling into place” and “why am I hurting more than usual”. I could have answered those questions in so many ways, yet I just couldn’t seem to find the right one, that is until this morning. But first I must lay the foundation for what is going to happen next and why I think it’s important to move forward.

Just make sure it’s palpable for you to know what it’s like to be me I will try to put it into words for I’m not sure you really understand the gravity of my loss(s). Then I will explain what I intend to do about where I sit now, numb and finding life somewhat meaningless.

The day I said goodbye to my mother was extordinarly difficult. I was seven months pregnant with Brittany and as you could imagine very hormonal. But I was able to put it together and continue on. But underneath that calm exterior I was slowly dying. What I mean is my life as I knew it was no more. I just spent the next two months sitting in the rocker that was in the baby’s room and rocked. Asking God “why”? Then two short months later my sweet baby was born.

Five years later, my grandmother, to whom I was very close was about to die and I was called to her bedside to say goodbye. As I entered the room I called out “Red”, my nickname for her and I was the only one allowed to call her that. She was on a vent and unable to respond, however, I saw a tear stream out of her eye as she attempted to move her head in the direction of my voice. And then she passed.

The nurse there knew I was in nursing school and offered to me a chance to do something she felt would be “healing” for me. I helped prepare my grandmother’s body before she was taken to the funeral home. It was I guess in a strange stort of way a healing process, but still during that time, I found myself silently working and asking God “why”.

Over the next 12 years I found myself asking God “why” so often I was beginning to wonder if he had turned an ear to me. Taking care of my daughter who had suffered a great illness at the age of 11 months and the many side effects from that illness was often too much to watch. Though I asked God often “why” I never really got an answer. I just did what any other mother would do, I care for her, I debated with doctors for her, I fought for her and in the end I lost that fight.

When you watch three of the most dearest people you know and love uncondtionally die right before your eyes – it changes you.

I am not the person I was the day I watched my mother take her last breath as I whispered in her ear that it was ok to go that the baby and me we’d be ok. I’m sick with nausea just thinking about that moment now as I write this.

I am not the person I was the day I watched my grandmother die and helped prepare her body for the funeral home. Knowing that the second most important woman in my life was now gone from me. Now I’m left to be a mother, and a mother of a child with health problems and no mother figure to ask for help. No one to reach out to for help. I just suffered alone.

Then as I watched my daughter suffer from her illness, set back and success, it was all such a roller coaster of emotions. She suffered in school, subject to redicule and bullying so often it would make you want to scream at people and say “what kinda kids are you raising”. But most often I felt helpless and sometimes even hopeless.

Through it all she remained upbeat, optimistic and at times, I thought she’s a better person than I because I would have given up. But no she just got up every morning and with a smile faced a world that didn’t understand her much, or didn’t want her around until she met Carolyn and Andy. They truly understood her and knew what I knew all along – that she was a true gift from God and we were so very fortunate to have her in our lives.

Then that dreadful moment came when I watched helplessly as they tried to revive her for the fourth time in 12 hours. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that is more gut-wrenching than to watch from a distance, yet knowing everything that is happening and understanding that nothing was going to work, but yet praying for a miracle. A miracle that never came.

So now as I sit her today facing another empty set of holidays I have to do something different. I have to get back to what I know works for me and that is reading about triumph over failure. Reading about faith and the grace that it can bring to a sorrowful filled person. I have to get back to what has kept me out of the trenches for the past four years.

What I have been doing is spending too much time trying to make other people happy. To be the “negotiator” of relationships. To appease those around me as if I have been chosen to do that. Because I have not. I’m not here to apologize for anything or anyone. I’m simply here to write out what I know to be true about grief. How it’s torn me from limb to limb and yet I’m still standing.

I have to get away from all the other noise that’s been consuming my life and take care of me. If I don’t – I know this for sure “I will not survive”. I will die of a broken-heart and I don’t believe that is what God has intended for me at this point in my life.

So I have chosen to blog about another book, for it is in this way I can show how and why I have made it from hell and back several times over. And hopefully help a few people along the way.

My next book topic is: “A Grace Disguised” by Jerry Sittser – How the soul grows through love. The reason I chose it is that his words really helped me see that I could keep going and keep believing in love even when it seemed as though I didn’t feel I had the capacity to have love again for the fear of losing it was too great.

Stay tuned…..

until next time,

m

The Ugly Truth About Grief

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And I’ll be alright
And I’ll love again
And the wounds will mend
I’m bruised but not broken
And the pain will fade
I’ll get back my feet
It’s not the end of me
My heart is still open
I’m bruised but not broken

words by Joss Stone

It occurred to me that grief has a way of creeping into one’s life from many sources. Pain can be caused by so many and yet often it is not the intention of the person it’s coming from. But when that person knows they are responsible for it – it hurts more. Intention is a significant part of how we deal with one another each and every day. It’s easy to forgive the unintentional behavior. But for behavior or actions that come from intention the forgiveness comes more slowly.

During my life I have seen the many faces of grief. They have looked at me from many people and many situations. Some intentional and some not. The pain inflicted is still the same. The wounds remain sensitive although the healing has taken place. When wounds are “touched” they bleed, they open and they cause grief.

I have overcome many wounds and I have succumbed to many “touches” of those wounds either intentionally or not. At times, I have bled until I cannot bleed anymore. I have cried until I cannot cry anymore. I have forgiven and I will continue to – but just know rubbing salt in anyone’s wounds can bring more profound pain because it is intentional. Be careful my friends not to go down that slippery slope of being caught in the net of someone whose intentions are not good. It will bring you pain and sorrow. It will open “old” wounds and create some “new” wounds.

The unintentional pain is often through words spoken. I’m not saying you have to walk on egg shells around someone who has lost someone or is grieving over something or someone, but what I am saying is that being mindful of how or what you say in the company of that person is respectful. I have found over the past four years that some of the comments made by a few people have rubbed me the wrong way. I had to check myself to make sure I wasn’t being overly sensitive. Because a person going through such a significant loss as mine can be overly sensitive at times. I’m not denying that. But comments like “I hate my children” or “I can’t wait for them to go off to college” makes me want to just cringe.

I know those are unintentional comments because they don’t mean them. But for me I want to just shake them and say “count your blessings you still  have  your children” “get on your knees and be thankful you still have them” because I don’t. Another example is when there is a wedding, or grandchildren born, or college graduations – they are a part of everyday and everyone’s life – but mine. I have come to understand that and I have come to terms with it. But when it is constantly talked about in front me, it’s a bit much. Don’t get me wrong I am very happy for my friends whose kids have gone on to graduate from college, get married or have kids of their own. I get that. Just asking not to talk about it incessantly in front of me. I assume that perhaps why I have many new friends. Friends that are more like me. Single, no kids and no prospects in the future.

It’s another form of grief, the ugly truth about grief – one loss = many losses.

until next time

m

The Path of Least Resistance

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“When your life is on course with its purpose, you are your most powerful.” —  Oprah

 

Over the past four years since my daughter’s death, I have found that healing comes when I have moved with it, leaned into it and accepted it. I know this because when I have chosen at times to fight it, to avoid it or be angry about it, my healing became stagnant as if I’d taken the wrong turn.

In retrospect I guess it’s what we all do as grievers, we move through our journey at different speeds. Traveling along the path of either “least resistance” or worst a powerful resistance. I can see times when I moved along the path of least resistance and when I did I found that I coped better with life. That the joy could return to my life. For me that was a true gift. No one could  have told me that I would ever see joy again in the early days, weeks and months after Brittany’s death.

At the times when I saw myself struggling to breathe, to move, to exist – those were the times when I chose the road of powerful resistance. Perhaps believing that if I fought it, her death, the feelings that came from seeing her die would somehow leave me. The nightmares that ensued for months and months just kept pursing me night after night during those times. But as I began to see that I was creating the atmosphere of resistance to something that was out of my control, I was able to let it go.

In letting go, I was able to follow a path that led me to a place of acceptance of what had occurred. Now I’m not saying that I it made all the pain go away; but I am saying that it created an outlet for my pain. Fighting something that  you  have no control over is exhausting. Trust me when I say I found myself tired and at the end of the day unable to do anything.  Always in a constant battle with what had happened right before me on October 13th, 2006 made it virtually impossible to see that it was all out of my control.

Once I gave up the fight and began to follow the path of least resistance I was able to release my pain and use my energy to help others. I believe following the path of least resistance allows you, me, anyone who is grieving to allow the ebbs and flows of sorrow come and go with little or no resistance, thereby allowing yourself to release it and in doing so you create a place that allows healing to begin.

until next time

m

Sudden Separation

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With the sudden separation of accidental death, you were wrenched apart,
and the numbness, confusion, alienation, depression and “walking dead” feelings
that you have now are the result of not being able to assemble a
whole person out of the fragments left behind. – Deepak

 

The above quote from Deepak  Chopra in an article I read recently on Oprah.com really validated on of the many things I’ve spoken about over the past four years about the grief from a single mother’s perspective. Although I don’t necessarily agree with all of his comments he made to this mother, I do feel he has been able to describe in words what I feel I have yet to do.

http://www.oprah.com/spirit/The-Spiritual-Side-of-Grief-Ask-Deepak

The link above is there for your reference to the story of a mother, a single mother of an only child, who dies suddenly. Her story is the one closest to mine that I’ve found that speaks to some of the issues I’ve dealt with or still continue dealing with. I would encourage you to read it and if it resonates with you because you are at that place, try some of his ideas. I plan to.

Although I’m in a place of healing now, it’s going to be a life-long journey and one that I prefer to have God on my side or better yet at my side carrying me when I need to be carried, nudging me when I need to be nudged and lifting me up when I fall down. And finally bringing people into my life that will support me and validate me where I am and not where they want me to be. That is how the healing begins and will continue to flow.

until next time

m