Bereaved Mother's Day

Today marks my seventh year acknowledging Bereaved Mother's Day, the first Sunday in May. Much has changed since I first wrote a blog about bereaved motherhood. How that feels as I look at this day and all the many people I know and who I've met over the seven years who have lost a child, either through miscarriage or premature childhood death or adult children that have passed away, I know for a certainty that this was not a club that I joined voluntarily nor is it one others would join on their own. Although time has passed, I feel, on some level, that I've turned a corner. My enormous feelings are still just as acute and just as honest as they were on that first Mother's Day without Evan. There has been much that I have tried to regain through counseling and the completion of my relationship with Evan through the Grief Recovery Method; as Mother's Day approaches, the missing him is not different; that feels the same, and no amount of counseling or processing or logic will change that. My fond memories and my love will last a lifetime.

To all the moms I've met along this path, thank you for being a voice of encouragement to me. Thank you for seeing me and sharing your love for your child with me. I'm grateful for your friendship and your acquaintance. In general, grieving parents are misunderstood. To a world that wishes for us to be OK, we are OK. We have someone we love very much, our child, die, and until you can feel that pain, it's challenging to understand. We don't need pity, and we don't need fixing. We need to share our story and to be listened to. You may have moved on about our child, but we haven't, and not speaking about them tells us a lot. I'm grateful for the training I've gone through with The Grief Recovery Method. It has given me the new tools I need to help others experiencing loss and allowed me to be available for them to share their story and complete their losses. I'm thinking of you on this Bereaved Mother's Day.

Here comes the rain...oh, wait, those are tears...Welcome, Fall.

The rain has come to Northern California; with it, the cooler weather has made me melancholy and brought a movement away from the pool-splashing days of summer into the cool crisp days of Fall. This year seems different. I'm trying to understand what's shifted and don't have the words yet to describe it, but it might have something to do with the grief training I've gone through and the completion of my loss with my mom and Evan. Although I have many other completions to do, my mom and Evan have significantly impacted the healing of my broken heart.

Recovery, for me, does not mean forgetting. On the contrary, recovery means remembering fond memories of those I love, thinking about them daily, and healing my heart from the emotional pain loss brings. I can confidently say that my training and understanding of completing my losses have been a game changer for me. Grief is cumulative, and when we realize loss's impact on us, it can transform if we allow ourselves the time and space to unpack it so we can heal. It starts with being fully honest and not criticizing or judging ourselves. It opens the door to being empathic and compassionate for ourselves and others who may be grieving. It also can be heartbreaking when you see people's pain, yet they cannot take the steps towards recovery.

As someone who has been a part of the small group movement, I've seen growth in myself. People's desire to change is genuine until a day and time are announced, and all of a sudden, obstacles start to arise. I recognize them cause I've seen that behavior in myself. I'm grateful that we ask people to commit to 1% of their recovery as part of the program. If you are willing to take a step toward what I can offer, I can bring the elements that can transform and help. I began my pilot group, and we just completed our 4th week of our gatherings. These folks not only have showed up they have begun to do the hard grief work that can lead them to the completion of their losses. I'm fortunate to have a program I can believe in and that I can share with others. I'm grateful for this group of grievers who have allowed me to walk with them as they begin to discover and heal. It is a privilege.

Looking in the Rearview Mirror

There has been a gloom that has settled over my soul that I can't seem to shake. As much as I try, this feeling is always just on the edge of my heart, and most days, I can keep it at bay. If you were to ask my husband or anyone close to me, they would say that it is evident in my attitude and responses. I've come to realize that this gloom is just grief. My anger, my silence, my anxious thoughts, and my discontent...is grief. So on this day, 8/30, it is officially National Grief Awareness Day. What a funny thing! Funny, not in a ha-ha kind of way but in a WTH type of way. For people who have suffered loss, grief is every day. It is a never-ending thought or feeling, and although we may not speak of it every day, it is EVER present.

Last year moving into this week, it had been a rough time, and I believe even then, although I felt anxious about the world, I thought I had lived through the worst of it and was rounding a corner. I started having some issues within my body during this time, which I attributed to the shutdown. My doctor disagreed and told me she wanted to see me. But everything took twice as much time cause of C*v#d. So after multiple appointments which spanned months apart when I got the call from my doctor on that Thursday last year that I had cancer, I went into the fight or flight and self-preservation mode. Only to get a call the following day that my mom had passed away. It put me in motion to walk through over a month of planning, talking, processing, and lastly, watching as things fell into place. It gave me great comfort from God as only He could have set the many doctors' appointments, bloodwork, scans, and other things that needed to be done before my surgery. The aggressive nature of the type of cancer I had, the surgery needed to happen sooner rather than later. So from 1st ultrasound to surgery was about six months.

As I shared in my blog last month, I'm not brave or strong; I'm just trying to survive. Literally and figurately. My grief and anxiety were multiplied by other factors as the passing of my mom brought with it loads of different unprocessed feelings. So this week brings back that unbridled mixture of emotions and anxiety from a year ago that my brain did not have a chance to process.

I recently started reading a book called Try Softer, and this book talks about the mantra of "Try Harder." For most, we've found that trying harder doesn't always bring the desired outcome we want. After trying harder, we still come up empty and anxiety-filled. So in the book, the author shares to try softer. Be gentle with yourself. Listen to your body because your body holds the pain, the anxiety, and the trauma. Talk to your body and let it help you find your way back to health and healing. I'm just beginning, but I desire to take on the banner of "Try Softer," and with that, I'm asking the Lord to help me get there.

https://www.amazon.com/Try-Softer-Approach-Mode-Connection/dp/1496439651

Slippers, Stocking Stuffers and Moving Furniture

Last year during our annual poetry slam that we have to celebrate Evan's love of poetry, we had a time of just hanging out in our family room. Not much about our family room had changed since Evan and Alex would hang out with their friend here back in the day. We chatted a bit about how we wanted to change things a bit and possibly get some new furniture and change the room's configuration. For me, this was a tough change, and even to talk about it welled up feelings that made me weepy.

As a grieving parent, it's impossible to explain the impact changes like this make. I feel like changes like this bring about the thought that if it changes, Evan won't be here anymore. Like somehow, the position of furniture holds his presence. It is probably why Evan's room is still in the same condition as the day he left for class, never to be occupied by him again. It was comforting for me to know that one of Evan's friends felt the same about changing the room, and although I know it was for different reasons, it was very similar to how I was feeling. That evening that same friend mentioned that his feet were cold or something like that, and I remembered something that helped me heal a deep yearning.

It was always part of the fun of the season for me to get the stocking stuffers every Christmas. I start looking for stuff early on and put stuff away that I later forget where I put them, and that's a story of its own, lol. So the Christmas that Evan passed away, I had purchased slippers for everyone that I put away. We didn't spend Christmas at home that year, so I forgot that they were hidden. Fast forward to 2019, and I found the slippers while searching for some other things in my closet. It was a hard find—a treasure but yet such a feeling of deep sorrow and sadness. I couldn't take them back as so much time had passed. So as we sat in my family room talking about changes to that room and the difficulty of those changes, I remembered the slippers. So when Evan’s friend said his feet were cold, I thought this is the best possible way to give something meaningful and it was satisfying a real need. So the slippers found a home, and my heart rested, knowing that I was giving them to one of Evan's friends.

The holidays are tough. Oh, they are happy too, but so much expectation we place on ourselves, and sometimes we just have to lean in and let the emotions fall as they will. It's hard to tell people just how much life changes when you suffer such a great loss as this, but you never truly understand until you suffer it yourself. I often feel melancholy for the sweet days of old. They weren't perfect, but they are days where Evan was here, and my parents were younger and alive, and life was full. My heartaches for those days.

Don't Look Away...Come Closer

The clock begins today to move me towards the last month of my 5th decade. It seems a significant thing to think about as I count down the days to my birthday. The 5th decade has been filled with change. Although most of those changes have been eventful, the power of those changes have left me feeling overwhelmed and looking cautiously towards the future. A future that for now seems very vague and leaves me a little unnerved and pondering.

I began the 5th decade in full-time church ministry, I’ve seen the passing of a dear friend who I miss every day but with her passing it set me on a journey to discover my passion for photography and to start a new business of understanding the world through a camera lens, I started a job at a local university, to than experience the most significant loss of my life the death of my oldest child Evan. Within a few short months from Evan’s untimely death I watched as my dad succumb to lung cancer and after a few side roads have now started back into Faith-based non-profit work along with starting an online Birth and Bereavement Doula program. I sometimes think that my words can come across as melancholy, hopeless, aimless, and sad, probably for some, they sound depressed or repetitive. But that is the harsh reality…this is life. It may not be your life today, but it wasn’t mine either for most of my 5 decades. I sometimes wish that we talked about hard things. The things that hurt. The things that don’t make sense. Sometimes things seem abstract because the reality is this is life and when we observe it in the abstract the reality of that life can be overwhelming.

We seem to talk about Paul the disciple as the pillar of transformation and strength yet the reality for Paul was that he struggled and yet in that God did not remove the struggle. He gave Paul overwhelming Grace and more compensating strength as we see that Paul says that God’s power is made perfect in weakness. So, the reality is that in all the hard things God shows up. I’ve not lost Jesus, on the contrary, He is walking this path with me. He is the Hope that gets me through. I indeed desire for the thorn to be removed. The reality is that it seems to be hang around. For many, you will need to look away...it can be hard to watch. But my challenge for you is don’t look away…come closer. Look deeper. Jesus has overwhelming Grace and more strength for you as you come face to face with your thorn and possibly the thorns of others.