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.

Lessons Learned Along the Way

Life is a series of lessons taught to us, and then using those lessons to move our path forward. I've learned many things over the last almost seven years. These things have been hard lessons and have taken me down painful pathways, yet I've learned a lot about others and how that looks and feels for me. This year has been a year of growth, and with that growth comes hard decisions and the continued loneliness that is grief. I've continued formulating my path, which has always been the way it is. Grief isn't something one does with others; it is more of a parallel journey. With my discoveries through the Grief Recovery Method of how loss impacts not just life but the physical parts of us, I've had to take a long hard look at how I move through grief and loss. In many ways, it has given me space not to hold others hostage to my feelings and allowed me to have some grace for them. Still, it also has given me the understanding that processing our losses is complicated, and many don't have the tools to unpack their grief/loss.

I'm also trying to figure out how one processes the loss of community, not just from the loss of your child but also from the failure of unmet expectations. This time (my son's death and the pandemic) has shown me what I've always felt: we're alone. My attitude has been the downside of loss, and it has allowed flaws in myself to be multiplied, and that has caused great judgment of myself and others. The Grief Recovery Method has helped me see the things I wish had been different, better, or more, and has released me from the feelings that come with undelivered communication.

For this reason, I've been so grateful to have the tools I need to process my hopes, dreams, and expectations, which are the primary source of my pain. I will continue to think through what I wish had been different, better, or more with my relationship with others and reflect on the changes it has brought me.

Grief Recovery is for anyone who has suffered grief or loss of any kind. For more on groups that are starting in April, click on the link https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/grms/dawn-kincade

The Hard Work of Grief

The cold winter winds are starting to warm just a little through the warmth; I still get the chills from February breezes. As the year started, I began a Grief Recovery group. It has been my heart to use my training to help those who have suffered loss to communicate their undelivered emotional communications.

What I've learned is that grief is cumulative and cumulatively negative. As I've observed, all the classes begin with faces filled with vulnerability, despair, and deep sadness. At the onset, we discuss the old tools we use to manage our losses. I help them understand those tools to recognize them in not only their current losses but their past losses too. Then the remaining weeks are spent learning and activating new tools to help them understand and complete their losses. We learn about how time doesn't heal, but time and correct actions heal. We learn about how completion does not mean forgetting. When we take the steps toward completion, we make room for memories filled with joy, hope, and love.

I speak from a place of understanding. This last week it became clear to the participants that they have taken the steps and are moving towards completing their losses. I can see it not just in how they look but also in their lightness, and it's remarkable. I'm privileged to partner with these beautiful souls who have trusted me with their hearts. If you want to join me, I have classes in March and can help one-on-one too. Will you trust me to help you with your broken heart? Let me be for you "a heart with ears." Grief Recovery Dawn Kincade

My Real Highlight Reel...My Word for 2023

The end of the year always brings highlights from the year we're leaving with bright hopes for the year ahead. I always love to see what those highlights look like and when I get ready to do mine, I'm always disappointed by what the algorithm chose for my "highlights." It's always difficult for an app to know what made my day and what got a lot of likes. In my economy, likes don't always equate to making my heart happy.

As I closed out the year, my word for 2022 was the noun version of Resolve-firm determination to do something. Similar words to resolve are braveness~courage~spunk~steadfastness~persistence

I'm looking back fondly because this word was the very essence of my year. I was persistent in understanding grief and all of the things that grief has taught me. I spent the year taking the information I've learned over several years of loss, pursuing what I've gleaned, and getting the training with the grief recovery method that has me moving into the next thing God has for me.

I've decided on my word for 2023 and just ordered my one little word piece.

My Word for 2023 is Inspire - to influence or impel, to give inspiration to, to produce or arouse (a feeling, thought, etc.). Other similar words are educate-enrich-enlighten-transform-nurture. As I move into 2023 with newfound information on grief and loss, I hope to Inspire others to feel their feelings and to process and complete their losses. I’m wondering…what is your word for 2023?? Happy New Year!!

Turning the Page

In January of 2022, my word for the year was Resolve.

Resolve

1. settle or find a solution to (a problem, dispute, or contentious matter).

2. decide firmly on a course of action.

3. firm determination to do something. ~braveness~courage~spunk~steadfastness~persistence

When I chose that word for 2022, I had no idea that the year ahead would set me on the course I am now on and, I believe, the reason I can move toward the future.

While on Facebook in January, I found a friend's post about a Grief Recovery program. I shared this in a recent blog.Being a Heart with Ears

So in August, I decided to pursue polishing my "brand," so to speak. With newly acquired training in the Grief Recovery Method, I plan to make grief recovery part of what I want to share with the world, with photography being the expression that I share that connects me to nature and people. As a person grieving, I want to hold space for others trying to understand loss and all the feelings associated with grief.

So I began the process of fine-tuning my website and having photos taken of myself with a photographer. For me, this was a big step. To trust the process of branding myself with others is what I thought would be fun and easy (it started that way), but as the days leading up to the photo shoot came, I could feel myself wanting to scream at the top of my lungs "why are you doing this?" and loads of other questions and doubts. I can say with some certainty that it was grief. These step towards the future was me mourning the loss of what I was; to a rebranded me.

In thinking about that process, I saw myself looking back, and the secondary losses of the last six years came RUSHING back, and I was overwhelmed with big emotions. All of us are grievers, and we are experiencing that grief at 100%. So for me to articulate this experience to the average reader, it can get lost, and it's ok. This is just my journey, and I share it to give understanding and to invite you into the process.

On the day of the shoot, I had a text from a dear friend whose photos motivated me to reach out to the photographer who did my photos. Even thinking of that exchange with my friend is very emotional. She is more family than a friend, but her words helped me process my big emotions and talk me off the ledge. The day was filled with tears for many reasons that I've yet to process entirely, but the day ended well with yummy Mexican food with my husband and a greater understanding of myself as I move forward. Resolve is a word that has captured my year so far. With just a few months til year's end, Resolve has been the perfect choice for 2022.

I want to thank Lynda Kennedy for her vision and care for my photos. Thanks for holding space for my past and bringing them into my future. To my makeup artist Corrine Boicelli who took an emotional, grieving woman and made me look beautiful. Great conversation too! My door is always open to talk about grief and loss. A reworked website is coming soon.

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.

Being a Heart with Ears...The Grief Recovery Method

“Grief is the normal and natural reaction to loss of any kind.” TGRM

I recently returned from training as a Grief Recovery Specialist for The Grief Recovery Method, and as I promised, I wanted to share the experience in more than just a quick post. It was an experience that changed me, and I came away with great tools to help myself and others deliver undelivered emotional communications to complete the losses we have in our lives.

First, I have to preface this: I've tried many different programs, from faith-based programs to books and videos. None of those things brought me to the place I am today after completing the book and the training. I desire to use what I've learned to help others feel lighter and more complete with their loss/grief in a group or one-on-one.

I entered this training after a friend posted about the program on her Facebook page. The church she attended was hosting an 8-week class, and unfortunately, that class was located in SoCal. I looked on the website and found that the closest in-person class from Vacaville was in Reno, which was too far for me to attend. I reached out to my friend in SoCal, and she directed me to the Grief Recovery Specialist she knew, and the discovery process began for me. After that conversation with the Grief Recovery Specialist, I decided to get the book. I found another friend interested in doing the book with me, and in February, she and I started the book together and finished the book together in March. I felt strongly about continuing to help others as the book helped me so much, so I signed up for the specialist training in LA.

The work in Grief Recovery isn't easy. Emotional Communication is incomplete when we use our intellect to explain what is in the heart. Me, I felt isolated, frustrated, and misunderstood, so I returned to old behavior patterns. The Grief Recovery Method helped me recognize the patterns and, with that recognition, work on those painful feelings so that I could deliver the incomplete communication to complete my loss. I still have work to do and will continue to do the work on myself. I can say with absolute clarity that this program has changed me. It has given me a clear understanding of how much my grief and the losses I've had has slowly chipped away at who I am. My 100% is now operating at 60% or less, and I want myself back. I want to live the rest of my days complete and fulfilled. For those who are interested, don't hesitate to get in touch with me directly. I plan a pilot group shortly and would love to have you. I hope this was helpful, and I'm available to chat anytime.

Grief, Coffee, and the missing of Community

The last month I’ve been busy writing stories for work. It is by far one of the things I enjoy most about the work that I do. Yesterday while working on content for my stories I came across some old photos from many years ago. Old photos have a way of bringing to the forefront those things that have been hovering just below the surface, and today, those feelings came rushing back. It’s hard to express with any understanding of how the pandemic has brought with it the pain of loss and grief but multiplied to the 10th power. I was sharing with a friend recently that one of the difficult things about grief is that nothing is ever the same. Now, of course, that can be said about many things really, and that’s not to diminish how others feel. But I can say that one of the things that I needed was routine after Evan died. I needed to have something that got me up every morning as sometimes sleep was fitful, and my heartbroken.

One of my routines is getting up and going to Peet’s every morning for coffee and to see the carousel. Sometimes I can catch a sunrise or chase the moon as it sets. But Peet’s is the place I could go and oftentimes think about Evan. When I went in for my coffee in the afternoons, he’d sometimes sneak up behind me and say, Hey Mom!. It’s a place I could always find Evan or Alex back in the day, and it is, without a doubt, a memory keeper. It has always been a place that lets me know I am home. For me, it is essential not only for coffee but for my emotional and mental health. In the first few weeks of SIP, I remember going in and being teary as I thought about how they stayed open and how for me, it was a lifeline. Peet’s never closed. When sleep was fleeting, and I was up at 5 am, I’d go and wait for them to open. The first few months of this shutdown were hard for so many reasons, but the fact that something stayed the same was comforting. I know it sounds silly as we are in the middle of a global crisis, but as many are learning, much about this SIP has to do with grief and loss. The pandemic made grief that much more intense, and it continues to feel that way.

Peet’s holds memories of past employees who have moved on to other jobs or cities. It’s a place where I’ve made friends, and it’s a place where community happened every day. It’s something I REALLY miss. I miss the community. I wonder about some of the older folks I met who came to Peet’s for connection. I miss seeing them, and in the missing, my heart longs for Evan and for days that are long gone and fading. Just to write that is heartwrenching. Grief is not always gentle. It can come at you like a freight train or like a gentle breeze, but I can tell you that it’s not made this SIP easy or manageable. Thanks, Peet’s, for providing for this grieving, heartbroken momma.

You are essential to me!

Hello November!!

I saw a post recently that said, what will you do with the remaining 61 days left in the year. I always find these questions interesting because they come from a place of thinking you have total control over your life and future. Some days I feel like I can grab myself by the shoulders and say, “You can do this!”. But as I step into the first day of November and I look ahead to the remainder of the year, I must do so by looking back.

On this day 3 years ago, I was editing a photo session of a dear friend and wondering what the week ahead would look like. I had captured a photo while I was waiting for them to arrive at the photo session cause I wanted to share in the “Thankfulness” of November. When I posted, it was meant for encouragement for others, but also it gave me pause as I was encouraging a friend who was facing a tough time. The verse I used was, “Be thankful in all things.” When this friend said, she was trying, I encouraged her that this verse was directional. Christ sees us. That he comes near when we can’t. The strange thing about this dialogue is that less than 48 hours later, I would come to understand this truth authentically and tangibly.

So when I think about the next 61 days, I ask myself what will you do “today?” Maybe I’ll think about tomorrow, but I genuinely hold things loosely. I’m living in a state of change that I did not plan for, nor did I agree to and that is said with living this grief life for my short 3 years. Motivational speeches should look different for those who are grieving or mourning. Instead of asking about the next 61 days, how bout we just make it through the next thing...So live your best day today! Hello November!

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.

The Bench

Graduation season is upon us with all of the excitement and anticipation that graduation brings. For me, it brings an element of melancholy. I love things that are consistent, the same, and yet with the excitement of the future, I grab hold of the past. This week many will end their high school and college careers and begin their futures — the taste of the bitter along with the sweet. Ten years ago this week Evan and his friends walked across the stage at Vacaville Christian Schools setting their sights on the future and what it holds.

A few weeks ago I came across Evan's senior photos. It was always my intention that my kids be able to express themselves within reason, and senior photos were no different. Even now, as a photographer, I so want people that I photograph to be there authentic self. Evan chose a friend, Looking Glass Photographs, to do his senior photo, and I love that she captured him so well.

While looking through the photo, I wanted to find the place where his photos were taken. As I looked through the pictures and as I drove around Vacaville looking for the place that had "The Bench" I realized that I'd lived in Vacaville 30 year and never really saw a bench like the one in the photos. The place that I was looking for had hills, trees, grassy areas, and a baseball diamond, the universal look of nearly every park in the US. But it had some unique things that I knew if I tried hard enough, I could find them.

Last week on my way home from Sacramento I drove through Davis which would have been a place that Evan would have wanted to do photos. He loved Davis, and so much of our time was spent there as a family. I stopped near the park that seemed the most likely, Slide Hill Park. After getting out and looking around, it became clear to me that was not the location. I continued to drive home and passed Community Park and thought maybe but I was hungry and cold, and I need to look again at the photos.

So today after work I picked up my camera and some items that mean something to me; art pieces, photographs, Evan's ashes, and his original draft of "Ley LInes" his first published poem and set out to find "The Bench." After doing some research, I realized that Community Park was probably my best choice, and as I carried my bags towards the skate park in the distance, I saw it...The Bench. Many things about the park have changed, but the overall layout has remained the same. The tree that was in the background of the photo of Evan on the bench has grown, and as I sat and looked around, I felt this genuine connection to this space that once was occupied by my son. It was surreal. I could see him hang on the fence, laying back in the grass, and thinking deeply about life. I set up my makeshift memorial, and I too pondered many things while sitting there.

So much of my grief journey has been about looking back to go forward. It seems to those watching that something is broken if the past is what you cling too. Well, I am broken, but in my brokenness, I see life through a different lens. Not a better lens just different. Ten years ago, Evan graduated from high school. If he had lived, he would have graduated from college Spring of 2017 and who knows what other things he would have accomplished. I say that because he does not have a future here on Earth. Evan’s future is now walking around in the lives of 5 other people who 931 days ago got the heart, lungs, and kidneys of our boy. Our other son, Alex, is raising awareness about organ donations through hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. I say this with all confidence that we (John and I) couldn't be prouder of our sons. Proud of their sacrifice and proud of their decisions.

https://www.gofundme.com/PCT-NDLM

Sunflowers among the weeds...International Bereaved Mother's Day 05/05/19

Sunday, May 5th is International Bereaved Mother’s Day. I’ve done blog posts in the past, and after spending some time editing sunflowers that I happened upon here locally, I saw an opportunity to share in part what I saw while photographing these beauties.

Sunflower season here in Solano and Yolo Counties will be sometime in June, and yet I was able to find a few springing up in a field where they were last year. Sunflowers are one of my favorite flowers. I’ve added a few fun facts about them just to give you an understanding of how amazing they are. Sunflowers are used to demonstrate a mathematical term called a Fibonacci sequence. You can also see this sequence in artichokes and cauliflowers. While reading about this sequence in sunflowers researchers have found that the patterns can be inconsistent in sunflowers and quoting the article “real life is messy.” This is a truth that is lived out daily in the life of a bereaved parent and when speaking about loss and grief. https://www.sciencemag.org/news/2016/05/sunflowers-show-complex-fibonacci-sequences It is the only flower to have the word “flower” in its name. Sunflower removes toxins and is a natural decontaminator of soil. They have been used to clean up dirt at some of the biggest environments disasters, including Chernobyl and Fukushima. Sunflowers are native to the Americas. Some of these facts come from this article. https://www.thespruce.com/fun-facts-about-sunflowers-3972329 As you might now see sunflowers have a medicinal quality to them. They have been used to heal and remove toxins from soil. As I photographed these beautiful flowers, I was struck by the fact that even though they were growing among weeds, they thrived. I saw a few bees although they seemed to be moving slowly and possibly dying. So much about these flowers lead me to see myself and other bereaved mothers the same way.

These flowers were strong. Even though the weeds had dropped some of the seeds to strike down these flowers they still stood firm...strong almost like flower sentinels. They’re looking for the sun and following its course across the sky. They are beautiful. Some of their petals hidden from the sun but just as yellow and brilliant as the noonday sun. Some of these beauties had yet to open, and many of them winking so to speak as only a few of their petals had started to open.

This blog goes out to all of you who mourn the loss of your child/ren. You inspire me. Even amid your loss, you continue to move towards health. You still remind me that you are bright sunflower standing firm in your memories of your child/ren. You are learning that your loss has defined for you those things that are toxic and you move towards removing them from your path. Some of you are still trying to figure out what you need and yet, you persevere opening up just a few of your petals as you follow your path. The loss of your child will continue to shape each move you make. It will define who you are and why you do what you do. I pray that you continue to remain strong and resilient. Standing tall like a sunflower.

Spring means...New things are coming.

There seems to me that I have so much content in my head but can’t find words to share the impact that grief and loss have had on me during spring this year. The ending of cool weather and the start of warmer weather brings with it an array of different and complicated emotions.

Our son Alex set off on his journey on the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail) just as Spring was launching and has been on the trail for over a month so far. Most of our correspondence is via text message with our ability to track him via global navigation. We also have been able to FaceTime with him and that was one of the best gifts my husband received for his birthday. (LOVE TECHNOLOGY) Spring brings with it celebrations of birthdays, Easter, and this year one of the best super blooms in California history. There have been engagements and birth announcements. I’ve been busy with photography and just a feeling of excitement. Yet with those feelings comes the overwhelming sense of what is not…

I recently was reading the results of taking the Enneagram test and although the language is different then other personality tests (I’m a 7) much of the content is the same. I love people, fun, and things that aren’t rote or routine. I love to laugh, meet people, I can be passionate and if not tempered that passion can become a tangent. I’m learning to quiet the busyness in my head to tap into the creative part of me. All this to say not much about me has changed. The only difference is most of those traits are now filtered through grief and loss. I’m feeling like so much of my life has been about others and now that I’m older and possibly wiser I desire to have a purpose. To look at the world through a different lens and to serve my community in ways that make the world a better place.

So part of what spring has done for me is it has helped to shape some of my next steps…these actions look more like a pebble than a stepping stone and they’re the things that are moving me forward. There is still a pause in me…it comes with the territory. My family~John, Alex and Evan have always been the people who’ve propelled me…to hold me…to challenge my thinking when I get to deep into my head. Now I just have to step into what I’m supposed to do. I’m a little scared. I’m actually really petrified, but I’m at a place where as of today I’ve experienced my most significant loss. Loss changes us…well it has changed me. So as I look for those things that inspire me towards purpose I bring along with me the brokenness that is my heart. I look for a way to find comfort in the mission that God is calling me to.

Post Script~Many of you may know that our son Alex is raising money for Donate for Life West as part of his journey on the PCT. In addition to that April is National Donate Life Month and he wants to raise awareness about organ donations. I’ve added the link to the GoFundMe account below. Please donate if you can.

https://www.gofundme.com/PCT-NDLM?sharetype=teams&member=1914332&pc=ot_co_dashboard_a&rcid=009a7141efd04e32b1b79026faa2e765&fbclid=IwAR2b_ZljQYTMg4zIIl8PNeKJZZHOxu-IMH3GAbPP8JoBqQLcKc_FoQwai8s

For now that is enough...

I’ve been away from my blog since before Christmas. Most days are filled with job responsibilities and regular household chores there is something in me that seems different not all together me. I keep thinking that things will get back to how they always were. That life as I’ve known it good or bad will return, and all will feel normal. Then I realize my life isn’t normal. It will never look like it did. My life will never have Evan in the spaces he usually occupied. EVER. I go back to those spaces hoping to find him…to sense his presence. It’s hard to describe to people how your mind works after your child has gone. I look at photos and think to myself it feels like he is here. But there is such an emptiness. There is such emptiness in the spaces he once inhabited. There is an emptiness in the world since he left. My words feel hollow…without real form or bones to help them take shape. I was driving this morning, and I had this feeling of everything continues, but yet my heart wants to go backward. I want to recapture what once was and bring it into the future to live with me here. I want Evan to come home. I’m learning to navigate the parts of me that are healing and the parts that are gaping wounds. I’m trying to find and listen to my voice and yet I want to be a voice for my son too so that he is not forgotten. Saturday mark many anniversaries-it’s my Dad’s 2nd birthday in Heaven. It also is 822 days since Evan was taken off life support to give life to 5 others. As I've walked out my journey, I also realize many parents/siblings that are walking out the same feelings, anniversaries, the same emptiness, the same longing that our family has. I say this for understanding. That I can bring you along with me as a conscientious/thoughtful/ observer.

To be mindful that we miss our person(s). That we want to hear their name. That you can't stop our pain. (IT WILL BE FOREVER) That we're not stuck. We are living each moment of each day with a wound that is healing but will always be there for us. Even if you can't see it. That you can show us love by sharing stories about our person. We're doing our best, and sometimes that may not be enough. For now, my soul is healing along with the soul of our family, and that is enough.

Christmas Sweaters, Sheep Hats, and Songs Unsung.

Most of my days are filled with busyness. My photography business is thriving in this season. My job keeps me busy with community stuff. We/I are surrounded by an extensive circle of friends and family. I’ve not written much over the last few weeks. Its very hard sometimes to convey the thoughts and pondering of a grieving parent. The holidays are filled with wonder and magic…grief although not part of the Christmas story it’s those early memories of birth and life that make the holidays at times so hard. This is our third Christmas without Evan and although softer the edges are still rough. https://whatsyourgrief.com/grief-made-you-cry-holiday-season/?fbclid=IwAR0hPT1OGomkWkK62J4EhRx34Kk84rWyPtbEGKudH5z84wR-t7jLkBSqN_4

Some of the sweet memories of long ago Christmas’ are not very fresh in my mind. It’s not until I go to a sweet school program and see children dressed in their holiday bests does the rush of memories return. Most days I can be present with friends who are enjoying seeing their kiddos perform the best and sweetest Christmas tunes. But in those moments the file cabinet opens, and the files start flying out. With that, I’m immediately ushered to a Christmas program from Pre-School or Kindergarten days with my boys. It was always something that was important to us to be at our kids' programs. Wise man costumes, Christmas sweaters, sheep hats and so much more. Most of my ponderings are melancholy. I miss those days and on some level miss that for Evan. I will never see these kinds of days played out with his kiddos. That the planet will not see songs sung by Evan’s kiddos. Yes, this is what this grieving mom thinks. I’m not alone in this thought. We miss the future, and we look to hold on to the past. Holidays are sticky that way especially when you have memories that are tied to traditions, and you’ve not started new ones cause it’s too painful to change the one thing you miss so much. We are trying new things and seeing what works and tweak them as we go. Maybe the thing that makes my heart sing and cry is that I choose to be present with friends who currently are experiencing these great moments. I see the love they have for their child and the special way their heart sings when they see their kiddo perform. It takes me back to those moments and just for a split second I’m transformed to that time in history when I too had a heart that sung and burst with love for my kiddos as they performed.

What I've Learned...

These are just a few of the things I’ve learned over the last two year since Evan’s death. The 2nd year has been one of the hardest as I’ve come out of the fog of the first year to find that time and people keep moving. Leaving me far behind and at times unable or wanting to catch up. I’ve learned that grief has no timeline for those who are grieving, but it does for those who aren’t. I’ve learned that everyone grieves differently and as much as you might want to be understood there will only be a few that can walk along the path with you. It takes a lot of work, patience, and love. It’s not for everyone, and most of it is yours to own. I’ve learned about myself through group and individual counseling that grief has a way of shaking up our lives and through the help of others taking the brokenness of our past gives us hope for the future. I’ve learned the incredible void that has been left in my life now that Evan is not physically here. I see that void in others as well, but that’s not my story to tell. I’ve learned that the 2nd year is by far harder than the first and the further away I get from my real/earthly time with Evan the space between the then and now becomes quieter. What’s not quiet are my thoughts…pictures and memories are never silent. They are the things that keep you in the present, and I desire to keep you present. I'm your mom, and you’re important to me so I will ALWAYS want to keep you present and I’m giving myself permission to do so. I’ve learned that the Lord in the midst of our yearning and longing gives us Hope and comfort. That He allows that space between Heaven and Earth to come together so that we can be comforted by not only those around us but also by those who we have released to His loving care. I’ve learned that who I was before Evan’s death has changed and that I will never be her again. Grief and loss don’t define me but they’ve changed me. That who I am now is different…and who I was will not return. That person I was is missed at times, but she no longer fits in the space that I now currently occupy.

Tonight we will come together to remember and to use the spoken word to do that. You now become a part of the great cloud of witnesses who contiues to cheer us on and remind us that you are not that far away.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. Hebrews 12:1

Touch of Heaven

This morning at maybe 3:30am you entered into my dreams, and that has not happened to me since before the accident. I hung between waking and sleep just because the realness of your presence was tangible. When I finally had woken up I wanted to write all of it down. I’m weeping cause the nearness of you was so real. I could see you and sense you as if you genuinely were here. You were whole. I saw you just like you were before you left to go out with your friends. Nearly clear shaven and haircut like the first photo in this gallery. Your eyes had a smile in them. You held me in the hug that always brought comfort and understanding. You had on a black sweatshirt I remember that you wore and black jeans. I heard you downstairs in the bathroom you were looking in the mirror. You saw me and said I know you don’t think I’m here, but it’s me. You came to me, and you gave me the biggest hug, and you said I know you miss me. I couldn’t speak. I wish I could have said more to you although it didn't seem necessary. You seemed to understand. You seemed to know that I miss you. That all of us miss you. I honestly have not cried as much as I have in the last few days as I have since you died. These aren't just tears this is guttural crying from the depths of my soul. My soul cries for you. Thank you for reaching out from eternity to let me know you understand our longing for you. That you see the longing, your brother has for you. That you know how much you are missed. The ache in my heart is without quenching, but I also am so thankful that you came to me. Thank you for such a great hug. I wish so much that you were here and although I know that cannot be I'm grateful Evan that you reached out from eternity to give your mom a hug and hold me close. Grief has a strange way of showing up in the time and space that you least expect it. Today it took my breath away and I am still trying to make sense of all of the feelings that it brings.

Spring Forward, Fall is Back...

"How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days." - John Burroughs

Sunday, September 23rd marked the beginning of Fall, and that always brings about all of the Fall feelings. The one thought at the forefront in my mind is that I miss Evan. This isn’t a rare thing as I miss Evan every day, but maybe I'm anticipating the fact that this will be another birthday without him. This time of year has always been a favorite of mine. All the colors, the cooler mornings and warm afternoons, the anticipation of celebrations and just the vibe of Fall...but alas I'm overcome with melancholy. I know it will dissipate over time only to come back sometimes stronger than when it left, but it lingers through January. The new year and winter time brings its own set of emotions and feelings with it.

I'm trying hard to be in a different state of mind as I approach this birthday. I'm battling the voices and memories inside my head that want to take me back and then yank me forward. I want to find a place that is restoring/filling me, but I also want to be mindful of remembering. When I mention Evan, he is in the present, and my desperate need for him to be in the present with me is the thing that I think is the most difficult for those who don't understand. I can't help but think that I'm celebrating yet another birthday and Evan’s not here. That I will continue to celebrate birthdays and he won’t be here. That my future does not hold Evan and yet the past is filled with him. So the question is where do I want to be? And where should I be? The answer to these ponderings can't be answered by me at this time cause the space between the want and should is too vast.

The last few weeks I've kept busy with event photography and other thing photography related. I've been working, and in all the busyness I've been able to keep the memories that are inside my head at bay. That doesn't change that you won't be here to give me a hug or debate the latest political challenges. That makes me weepy...pretty much most of my memories make me weepy. I know it makes people uncomfortable. I know they want it to be ok. I know that they have the best intentions. I know that I'm loved and cared for in the best way. I just feel on some level that I've been cheated, robbed of moments in the future. I sometimes think that I worry about what people think. I’m learning that in all of this I am ok. That what I do and what I say can be judged, but in the end, I must walk out my grief in the way that fits me. I’m grateful for people who understand this truth. I’m especially thankful to my son Alex who walks along this path with me. Although we each are walking our own way, I realize that a portion of this journey we are walking in tandem with each other. Helping each other to take the next step and at times stopping to mourn our loss together. The vacancy of our loss is real to us as a family and the pain of that is raw and at times so very painful.

Sunflowers and what they're teaching me...

We are just a few weeks away from the start of Fall. It’s hard to imagine that when we have days that the temperature is close to 100 degrees but by the ticking of time the calendar inches closer to the date that signifies to us that cooler weather and falling leaves is around the corner. There is something that always tugs in me as we say so long to summer and welcome the coming of fall. I’m kinda a big fan of most of the seasons but fall and spring are usually my favorites. Spring as it brings the beauty of new birth after a winter of loss. Summer is filled with long days in the sun and warm evenings of smooth conversations. Fall brings with it the vibrant changes in nature and for me it was always a time to plan for significant milestones as it is my birthday season and the birth dates for my boys. 

Much of the joy and excitement of fall has changed for me since Evan’s death. There is almost this resistance/hesitance to slow down the movement of time. I can’t really explain it other than fall was always such a great season for me but I have sustain such a significant amount of loss during this season I want to stay parked in summer indefinitly. The reason being is maybe not so obvious to most but summer is easier. There are no time constraints. The days are longer the nights are shorter and the sunflowers are blooming. All of it doesn’t remind me that soon you will need to start walking towards fall. Because fall holds with its beauty a measure of pain. 

This year in my travels the process of this beauty for ashes was much more evident for me as I watched the transformation of my beloved sunflowers. If you follow me even a little you know I start my search for sunflowers in early May as they are just starting the growing season here locally. I try hard to extend my watch through the summer but this year I went out to some of the fields as they were dying. The significance of the dying process for sunflowers is just as important as the beauty they bring to us as we drive by the fields. It permitted me to be fully part of the loss of these flowers and to understand the great impact they have in their beauty and in their dying. 

Today, September 9th. 2018,  which is 22 months since Evan's death and is a few months shy of what would be his 28th birthday. Alex and I will celebrate our birthdays next month. The Earth will keep spinning. The trees will change and days will get shorter. But what I wonder does the significance of Evan’s life that was so vibrant when he was living continue in his dying?? Does the impact he made continue even though he isn’t here to have his voice heard? As I ponder those things I think of the beautiful sunflowers.  

https://www.davisenterprise.com/local-news/yolo-grows-sunflower-seeds-for-the-world/

9 years later...Vacaville Christian High School, Class of 2018

Thursday was the graduation ceremony for the Vacaville Christian High school Class of 2018. I was invited to come by several of the families and I had hoped to take a few shots of the seniors that I had done their portraits. I walked onto the field and headed towards where the seniors were gathering with advisers and administrators in preparation of them walking towards the stadium. I wish I could say that my steps were light and sure…as they were not. I felt an overwhelming sense of disconnection. I felt at odds with my heart and head so after hanging out for a bit longer I left the ceremony with my head winning over my heart. I often have this happen to me. It’s a struggle to let the mind win cause typically the most important people you care about lose. I wish I can say that I’ve mastered “taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ” but alas I have not.  After countless texts to a friend who had their own struggle, I decided to return and do what I had set out to do. 

This time of year always bringing about feelings of melancholy and nostalgia it also holds great excitement, anticipation, and joy. Most times I have to do a great deal of talking myself through these things as they will continue to be a part of living and loving people. I want to so much to be included and sometimes I don’t always sense that connection. I feel at arm's length from it and maybe that is just the season I’m passing through. 

Congratulations to all of the Class of 2018!! Thank you for allowing me to photograph this chapter of your story. 

I’ve included a few photos from Evan’s graduation in 2009 at VCHS. He was the second graduating class from the new high school.