The first thing I did was buy this cabinet to keep the things I knew I would never part with. Steve’s ashes are in the basket, and this had become kind of Stevie shrine. We plan to bury Steve in the memorial garden at our church, but I have not felt like tucking him in there yet.
My son was a very active toddler. It was difficult to sit with him and read, so at bedtime we would often lie in his bed together and sing. One of our favorite songs was “The Rainbow Connection.” The other was a hymn that I learned at my church, The Prayer of St. Francis (Make Me a Channel of Your Peace). Every night I would sing these two songs to Michael, and he would quietly settle down to sleep.
In five and a half weeks it will be eight and a half years since my son, Gabriel moved to Heaven… Died… I’ve had lots of new good, bad, and ugly feelings since then… Most of them in the first couple of years after he died… But I had a new one happen this week…
I love dogs and have had several during my life, but didn’t have one when Gabriel died, because my husband hadn’t wanted one… And that was o.k. Until About six months AG, (after Gabriel died)… I decided that a cuddly pet might be good for this broken hearted woman… So I finally convinced my husband to let me get one…
Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!
Happy Holidays!
Have you done all your shopping?
Are you ready for Christmas?
Enjoy Christmas break!
This article was originally published in www.opentohope.com on Jan. 7, 2009, a website whose mission is to help those who have suffered a loss to cope with their pain and invest in the future.
I was sitting at my desk and glanced at the new calendar hanging on the wall. Suddenly, I was hit with the overwhelming thought of another. My heart ached over the thought of another birthday for my deceased child, another anniversary date, and all the other holidays that would come around another time. Many questions came to mind. Had I not gone through the depths of grief? Had I not walked through the Valley of the Shadows? Was this not enough? How could I be expected to do more??
This article was originally published in www.opentohope.com on Dec. 3, 2008, a website whose mission is to help those who have suffered a loss to cope with their pain and invest in the future.
Four months after our youngest son, Clint, died, we were faced with our first Christmas without him. We didn’t know how to deal with the holidays. Individually, our pain was so great; we barely spoke of it with each other. We didn’t know how to include Clint in our plans, yet we couldn’t bear to face a holiday without him. It wasn’t right to be making preparations that didn’t include our son. Where was his shopping list? He had always enjoyed making a wish list. There was a huge void in our hearts and in our home.
There came a point in my grief over the death of my son Clint when I became so tired of being tired. I began to search for something that would offer a bit of relief. I purchased a small notebook and began keeping a daily gratitude journal. Every day, I tried to find something to write in my journal.
What can I say about relationships after the loss of a child? They change. Many of them change for the worse. It could be because grief is such an emotionally exhausting journey, that you just don’t have what it takes to hold up your end of a relationship for a while. A long while. It could be because grief takes you on a long, lonely, isolating road, and many can’t be on that road with you as long as you need to be, if at all.
There is an old tree that stands as a giant in our back yard.
This tree stood tall on this land years before we built our home.
I am thankful to the stranger that planted it.
Originally published in Listening Hearts Newsletter Jan-Feb 2012
Another Christmas with all the activities had come and gone, and once again my husband Roy and I celebrated New Year’s Eve with good friends. We were in a room full of people, all happy and laughing, making their New Year resolutions.
I wondered what sad stories may be hiding behind some of the faces in the room, as people put on their mask once again, so the world doesn’t see their pain. I know for certain one friend at our table hides the deep pain of a son’s suicide, many years ago, in a time when such things were hushed up and rarely spoken of since. We only found out when we lost our son Joel, four and a half years ago, and then it was through the wife of his second marriage. We had known this friend for four years, and were shocked, and while we knew he felt our deep pain, sadly he still couldn’t bring himself to speak of it.
