Tag: loss

What Grief Teaches Us

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Something I’ve learned about grief is it changes who you are. By that I mean it gives you a different perspective on what’s important in life. Once you have been “schooled” in the classroom of grief – you have two choices – be a good student and learn and grow and move through the journey. Or you become stagnant and lifeless. No one says it’s easy. I know I have come across those who have thought I should have been “over” it – or farther along than I was but if you haven’t been in the mess of it all – you just don’t know and you just shouldn’t talk about what you don’t know. That’s my opinion and since it’s my blog – I can write.

Now moving on. What I found most helpful in Susan Duke’s “Grieving Forward: Embracing Life Beyond Loss” is Chapter 13 – Grief’s Classroom. As I reread this chapter I found many passages I had highlighted and as I evaluated their importance today – still very valid and still very real.

I recall once when I was attending a Grief Share class at my local church, probably about 3 months after Brittany died, and as I sat there listening to everyone’s story – an overwhelming thought came to me: Dear God don’t let this happen to me. Some of these attendees had been on the journey for years and remained stuck in a place and couldn’t find their way out. I believe it was at that moment that I realized I had to take control over my journey but led by my deepest faith in God and giving him the control instead of letting it control  me. I also knew that my journey would help others.

One of the things that is crucial is seeing progress. But if you don’t measure it, you won’t be able to see it. I think that is why people often get stuck, because they cannot see how far they have come. Writing has been my way of tracking my progress. When I look at the posts on this blog and in my own private diaries – I see profound change and progress. I see a lot of pain and sorrow too. It’s all there, I’ve held nothing back. I’ve been as real as I can be and sometimes I’ve been too real and it has scared my readers. But know this: I’m a child of God and while I have moments of weakness and sometimes want to give up – I know that God takes control then and puts me back on track.

I have fought many battles with the devil over the death of my daughter. Guilt, shame, anger, mistrust, and sorrow so deep I couldn’t see my way out. When  you are so wounded it’s hard to fight the devil. His little games he plays with  your mind – it can be devastating to your progress if you don’t ask God to take control. Prayer warriors have saved me so many times I cannot count. Below is an excerpt from Dukes book that I think is critical to overcoming this weariness:

“Warriors cannot fight when they are wounded. The kind of battle that rages in a grief-filled heart is one of hopelessness. When we don’t care if we survive, it’s hard not to give up on everything, even God. It’s hard to lay down the heaviness of grief long enough to put on our spiritual armor, but it is the armor that equips us for the rest of our journey.”

I remember as I read that passage the first time, I went and wrote down scriptures like Romans 8:37: I am more than a conqueror through Christ who loves me” and I put them up on my bathroom mirror so I could see them everyday. I put messages in my pockets. In my books. On  my laptop – anywhere I would see them to remind me I was NOT fighting this battle alone. I won’t deny that there weren’t times I couldn’t pick up my bible and read. My heart was so heavy I couldn’t bear it nor did I care. I was so wounded I had no desire to move on. I just wanted my  baby back.  But through friends, scripture and the shear determination of my God he got through. The light began to shine again in my life and it is only by the Grace of God and his constant viligence over my life that I am where I am today.

The following comment from Duke really helped me see I wasn’t alone, nor was I crazy like some people made me feel: “it takes at least eighteen months before anyone who grieves begins to experience longer stretches of time with less pain” – that was from H. Norman Wright’s book Experiencing Grief. It is during that eighteen months that you have to be mindful of every choice you make. To be careful with your heart, your life and the decisions you make on how you deal with your grief. This can be a time when one could become addicted to drugs, alcohol or behaviors that are not conducive to healing. Lean on God!!!!

My journals and my blog have allowed me to reflect upon my journey and most importantly it allows me to see my progress. Grief changes who you are and you become someone different. As Duke says – “we have to own our grief” “There is no formula, no set of instructions, no twelve-step program that works for every individual. Grief can shake, change, convince, challenge and contradict every preconceived notion or idea anyone has ever said or written about grief.”

Grief teaches us that there is pain in loving. Now that I know that, my challenge today is to begin to let love into my life again. To trust that God wouldn’t send me someone to love if it wasn’t someone good and who will take my heart and keep it like a delicate flower. No one could ever take the place of my dear sweet Brittany – but so much more happened to me on this journey than just losing my daughter – I lost myself. I lost my desire to love or to let love in. Now it is time for love.

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

The Absence of God

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Chapter 11 – The Absence of God by Jerry Sittser

“I yelled at God to acknowledge my suffering and to take responsibility for it, but all I heard was the lonely echo of my own voice.” – Jerry Sittser

For as long as I can remember I have believed in God’s existence. Surrounded by family members who believed in God, lived a Godly life and seemed content where they were in their lives. On the other hand I was also surrounded by people who would abuse, hurt and abandon me. For me my view about God was that He was God and He created me and that was about it.

I remember thinking when  I moved to Dallas in the early 80’s that something profound was missing from my life. So I set out to find whatever that was and in the end it was God. Even more significant was my awareness of God and what He wanted me to do. I became involved with my local church.

After getting married and moving to another church I began to teach Sunday school. I think now in looking back to that time, it was just a superficial relationship with God that I had. It was until my mother’s untimely death at the age of 48 did I begin to wrestle with the idea that God was real to me. I spent many hours, days and months thinking that God existed, but chose not to be present in my life.

My thoughts about God were for others, for how could the God I had come to know, the one who was held to the most high, the one who created the heavens and the earth, let such horrible things happen to me. It was my mother’s death that threw me into a downward spiral about who I was, who God was and what my future might hold.

Sittser writes about his thoughts on God and who he is and who he was. He gets into so very interesting, yet theological viewpoints that go beyond what I have to say here. For me it’s simple. I have to keep it simple. For when you have suffered much, your thoughts can take you to some very dark places.

I can’t rationalize why my mother was taken so early, during a time when I needed her most. Seven months pregnant with my first and only child. I wrestled with my faith daily. Quietly I would sit in the empty nursery rocking in my chair and asking God “why me?” He remained quiet.

 I battled and fought for my faith for five years until I realized that I would not get the answer I was looking for. That God wouldn’t come to me and say “Malissa, I took your mother because……” God doesn’t work that way. But one night, I had a dream about my mother. She was standing at the end of my bed looking at me. What is crazy is that at the time I was collecting Wizard of Oz items. So in God’s great humor my mom was dressed as Dorothy. I still think about that and laugh because it’s absolutely ridiculous, but true. In that dream, she said to let it go.

I believe that God sends us messages in ways that we will listen. For me I was so wrapped up with school, raising my daughter who had just been diagnosed with epilepsy and struggling to keep up with life. There was so much “noise” going on I’m certain I would have just not paid any attention to anything that was said to me.

At that moment I chose to listen and let my pain and anguish go. I stopped asking “why” and began to have “faith”. That doesn’t mean it was easy. For the next 10 years were far from easy. I daily prayed for things to be easier, but they were not. It wasn’t an easy life, caring for a child with a life-long disease. A marriage that was in turmoil and beginning a new career in nursing.

When Brittany was in the last weeks of her life, I found myself on my knees often praying why again does she have to suffer, why do we as a family have to endure another round of illness. Little did I know at that moment that my question would change two weeks later to “why God did you have to take her” and at some point I asked “why did you let her die”. Today I choose to believe it was her time to go. I have to believe that. Anything else would make me go insane. I could easily go to the place where I think of all the reasons she could have lived had people done what was right. I can’t do that for when I do – I lose ground.

My soul was very restless then and it is today. My faith in God is stronger than ever, but my resilience to life has diminished as I have become tired of the battles. Not much has been easy for me. I stopped asking “why me” because the answers never came. I now find myself asking “what can I do” what should I do” and still because of all the noise I cannot hear. Finding my way through the noise to find a quiet place is my job now.

Faith to me is the greatest gift God has given me. It has ebbed and flowed throughout my entire life. It is my faith that allows me to still see blessings that come into my life. I can still stop and view the beauty of nature and know God is good. It is a choice I make each and every day to get up and start again because of my faith.

until next time

m

Forgive and Remember

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I have been away from writing for three weeks now as I’ve had some life changing moments to get through. Now I will return to the book “A grace disguised” by Jerry Sittser and proceed to look at the various ways a grieving soul moves through the journey after a loss.

Chapter 10 – Forgive and Remember

Perhaps my avoidance of this chapter indicates that I still am in the process of forgiving the people who were involved with my daughter’s care during the  months prior to her death. I have come to know that forgiveness is a process just like grieving. It takes time and you take steps backwards and sometimes you just can’t move. It has been for in those moments I have had to cling to God. But as you will find out later, forgiveness or the lack thereof, isn’t easy, nor is it a one-time deal.

Sittser talks about those of us who have experienced a loss, tragic, random or premeditated look to  have revenge or justice in order to feel that our loss has been heard. I can remember there have been so  many times in  my life that I have chosen not to forgive. And because of that I suffered more. The relationships that were involved were broken and have remained broken to this day. Despite finally forgiving those who have hurt me over the many years – it came too late for save the relationship.

Shortly after Brittany’s death I was struggling with how I felt about the medical professionals who were involved with Brittany’s care. I was angry at them because I felt they gave up on  her. Not once did I, her mother, ever give up on her. But they didn’t seem to care or so it appeared by their lack of persistence on finding out what was wrong. To  me it just seemed as though they took the short way out and covered it all up with medication. I knew it wasn’t the right decision. And I felt powerless to fight it.

The pain of that anger is still very present as I write this because tears are flowing effortlessly down my face. The power of being powerless is staggering. It was the first time in my life that I can recall feeling hopeless and helpless and it made me angry. I wanted to know why they gave up. Why couldn’t they find something to fix her. Why did they just send us home and not explain what happened.

In the weeks after her death I wrote a long letter to her primary neurologist. In that letter I told him how I felt, how I trusted him because he begged me to trust him just three years prior and I did. That letter was very freeing for me as it started the process of forgiving him. Yet as I sit here and write this post I am feeling more pain than ever before. Why? This is when I have to lean very hard on my faith. I had to put myself in his shoes and hope by some measure that he too was grieving her loss. That I will never know.

I suppose I might see things differently had he shown up at the hospital or her funeral. Her other doctors where there. Offering condolences and assistance. But it was the absence of her neurologist that brought me such pain and sorrow – for his absence made me feel as if he didn’t care. That was the driving force behind my anger.

As Sittser reminds us in this chapter, “Forgiveness rarely happens in an instant.” That I know all to well. Although I did feel a large sense of relief after I sent the letter, it didn’t go away. It just found a quiet spot on my soul and rested there slowly destroying my faith in the medical profession.

Forgiveness is a life long journey, and just as grief washes over you at times so does the process of forgiveness. As Sittser states in this chapter we may have to forgive again and again when those special occasions arrive like when I go to a wedding of a couple Brit’s age or when some of Brittany’s friends begin to have families of their own. I have to relive that again. That moment of anger shows up and I have to chose to forgive all over again. Because you see my loss is eternal there will always reminders of the magnitude of my loss.

I have begun the journey of forgiveness and like my journey of grief – my faith in God keeps me on the right path. At the times when I choose not to follow my faith or my belief that God is in control – that is when I feel lost and alone with no map and no guide to get me through.

A few weeks ago I did something I’ve been trying to do for years since Brit’s death. I’ve been holding on to all of her medical records, maybe one day thinking I’d change my mind about suing the people involved. It occurred to me it was time to let that go. So I sat down in a chair and began the process of healing by shredding each document. As the tears flowed and with each page I felt a sense of relief that part of my life, that anger was released.

Forgiveness is hard, but a necessary process. Forgiveness also doesn’t mean I have forgotten what happened on October 13, 2006. The flashbacks still occur. The nightmares still keep me up some nights. The pain in heart is always there. But in forgiving those who were involved, I have started moving forward and replacing those bad memories with good ones of my daughter. This story, my story is an on-going process and like Sittser our faith in God is how the story gets re-written. God changes everything. Faith gives hope in the midst of grief.

But also know, for those of you living this now or you know someone who is on this journey. It never goes away. This kind of pain after a sudden loss is hard and some days still unbearable. Keep in touch with them, don’t forget and pray constantly because we need it. Our faith, our trust, our future depends on the prayers, love and compassion of others and the mercy of God.

until next time,

m

Another Loss

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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

A Grace Disguised

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I’m so excited to blog through this next book “A Grace Disguised” by Jerry Sittser. As some of my dedicated readers know I have found it rare to find a book that can come close to seeing grief through my eyes. Although our experience of loss is not the same; for his is much more tragic, he chose the right words that so creatively and accurately describes my pain.

I hope you get something out of this series as I did reading his book. I highly recommend it to anyone who has suffered a loss for it offers hope, spiritual rebirth and a new-found belief that the soul can heal and grow through loss.

“The experience of loss does not have to be the defining moment of our lives. Instead, the defining moment can be our response to the loss. It is not what happens to us that matters so much as what happens in us.” – Jerry Sittser

In the beginning of the book the author writes about the previous edition and reflected back over the years of his experience. What I related to most was on page 19 of the book where he talks about writing. I believe as he does that writing about one’s experience, thoughts, feelings, emotions can be healing.

At times during my four years I felt as  if my writing would either make me or break me. In the early days the writing was so porous one could see my pain on the pages of my blog. I allowed many of my readers to “feel” my pain as much as I could. Not because I wanted to bring everyone else down; but to allow you to see that the clichés of the past needed to go about what grieving people need to do or should do. But to allow you to see what’s real about grief.

Sittser talks about being able to read his own journals and was able to see his journey and how far he’d come. How he had changed as a person. He believes as I do that the hope is that our words can bring help to others. But in no way does it diminish our own losses. That our losses are as real and horrible as they were the day they happened.

“The good that may come out of the loss does not erase it’s badness or excuse the wrong done. Nothing can do that.” – Jerry Sittser

So much of what the author writes about in this book has been very validating for me as someone who has suffered so many losses. So it is my hope that you, my dear and cherished followers and any of you who have come upon my blog for the first time, take a moment and reflect that even though our losses have been great. The power to heal resides within  us. It is how we live on that makes the difference between living or just existing.

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

Grief Blessings2 Comments

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

Grief Hits Hard

Grief Blessings2 Comments

A few days ago I was having a conversation with a dear friend and the topic of grief came up. It just so happens she has had to travel down that long road called grief too. So just with that alone we are “sisters” in grief. We know without saying it; we understand without giving it words; and we feel it because it permates our very soul and oozes out of our pores.

As we talked it became clear that through our conversation about how grief has treated us over the years, even though the circumstances are vastly different, there is an underlying tone of familarity – that is this…..

Grief hits hard, it’s unfair, it makes “low blows” and it doesn’t care when or how it just shows up.

 

After spending some time reflecting about each other’s experiences we hugged and went on our way. I thought to myself “isn’t it ironic that people come into our lives for a season for a reason” and I was just thinking that she was doing that for me. This is what grievers do best – we validate one another through our stories, our feelings and our sorrow. It is real to us – even though our experiences may be very different – the sting of grief is very much the same.

Later the next day this same friend came back to me and said she’d been thinking about what we had talked about. And what I’m about to share with you now my dear friends is what is so badly needed for people who support someone who is grieving, no matter where they are in the process. When you lose someone, especially a child, an only child – it changes your destiny. What I mean is for me my chance to  see my daughter get married has been taken from me. To see my daughter have her own children and for me to become a grandmother – all taken from me. Her death has placed me on a course that I would have never dreamed possible. No one would.

I think when people think of loss they relate possibly to a grandparent or an aunt or uncle. But you can in no way compare the loss of a child, an only child to any other type – as it changes your life’s path so much so – it’s often hard to find your way. The road seems clouded by pain and the journey is very tiring most days. Especially on the days when a friend is about to become a grandmother or a family member is celebrating a graduation or a birthday. Those days are hard because they have been taken from me. From those of us who suffer silently feeling guilty  becasuse we still grieve. Not just the loss of our child, but the loss of who we were to be.

It’s taken me four years to understand that I don’t have to fake it anymore. I don’t have to apologize for the way I feel anymore. It’s ok. I’m moving on, and I’m making a new life for myself. A new journey. But please don’t pretend my loss, your loss or a friends loss of this magnatude didn’t happen. Because the memories will remain both the good and the bad. The dreams lost and the plans cancelled. But love and understanding can conquer it all. You just have to reach out and validate those people who you know who have lost someone. To realize that their memories are still clear to them. And they want, they need to talk about them. For they, their loved one is real to them – even now.

That friend, when she came back she said the very thing I just wrote – “It just occured to me that what you said yesterday about your future – it’s so true – yet many don’t get that”. Truest statement yet to the understanding of the profound loss I continue to feel every single day.

Until next time

m

 

Breath-taking love and heart-breaking pain

Grief Blessings3 Comments

It took me a while to name this blog post. I already had in mind what I was going to write about, but most of the time the title isn’t a problem. It’s not about creating a show stopping headline – it’s about creating a message that reaches out and grabs the very person who needs to read this.

Four years tonight I sat in a PICU watching my sweet baby, who was almost 18 years old, lie quietly in a bed on a ventilator after suffering from a grand mal seizure. I wonder some days if I had known what was going to happen 11 hours later, would I  have handled things differently. I don’t know. But what I do know is that it wasn’t in my control. God was in charge of this outcome.

As I sat there watching her, I remember thinking how are we gonna get out of this one girl. I talked to her constantly, hoping by some miracle that she would respond. It was so hard to sit and wait. To sit and watch and feel helpless. This child of mine, who I loved with such joy, who struggled her way into this world, was now struggling to stay in it. I would every so often sweep her long red hair away from her face and tell her a story about when she was young. Some of the things she would say hoping for some kind of response. There was none.

After a short while things turned ugly and she took a drastic turn for the worse. A code was called and we were told we probably will want to wait outside the door. The nurse in me wanted to stay, but the mother in me knew I had to wait and let them do their work. I couldn’t watch what I knew was about to happen. It’s a hard thing for the body to go through when it is being resuscitated. Hell it’s hard on everyone involved. So as a parent – I don’t recommend watching – it’s a traumatic event and one that you can never totally shut out of your mind.

They managed to get her back and then I took my place again at her bedside and just stroked her arm and head the way a mother would pray for a miracle. Praying she would awake from her coma and say “mom I want to go home”.  After hours and hours of sitting and watching machines make endless amounts of noise. She would move and then the nurses would come in and make her more comfortable.

Then again she became unstable and a code was called again. And again we were shuttled out of the room. This time it took a little more time, a little more medication and a little more of my little girl. I know that because I’m a nurse. Then I really began to pray. This had been the 3rd code of the night. Things weren’t looking too good and I had a bad feeling in my gut that told me what I didn’t want to face. The probability that she wouldn’t come out of this alive.

As a parent, or even better as a mother the love a mother is capable of is incredible. It’s like this vast amount of emotion welled up inside of your heart that bursts every time you see the life that was given to you for such a short time. People don’t get this type of love unless you’ve given birth. But I really don’t think parents get this unless they have lost a child. I call it “breath-taking love”. When I would look at Brittany sometimes I would just think to myself – “God she is just so beautiful and I’m so lucky she is mine”.

But in reality she really belonged to God, and he just gave her to me for a while to care for. To love endlessly and to mold her into the wonderfully funny young woman she grew into being. Without a doubt I couldn’t have been more proud to be her mother. She taught me so much about how people should be more accepting of others. How to pay it forward. How to not be judgmental towards others.  She truly blessed my life beyond measure.

At 6:55 am October 13th I said goodbye to the only thing that ever really mattered to me. My daughter died after complications from a seizure. I walked out a heart-broken mother. An empty shell of a person who has existed for 4 years in this life that I hadn’t planned on. That I would have never planned on.  My life ended on that day. The life I knew. The life I thought I’d have – all gone.

I miss my girl more than I can say. The words don’t even come close to the pain that will always be there deep within my heart from her absence. Some days it’s just plain hard to function. Some days it’s all I can do to just get through the day. My life has been so empty for so long. It’s hard to see the future some days. But I do feel something different now. Life is creeping back. My heart is healing, but the wound is still very raw and at times it feels like it’s going to kill me.

I feel I am capable of letting love back in my life, and back into my heart. I never imagined I’d be able to trust love again. For me love always meant loss of some kind. But I have a faith that is strong and I  believe in a God who wants more for me. Wants me to be who I am supposed to be now. To love again. To feel passionate about life again. To feel like I matter in this world.

So I am here and I am present and I am ready.

until next time

m