Grief is the price we pay for love.   Grief is an appropriate and proportionate response to the death (the end of earthly companionship) of someone we love. If grief is small, what does that say about love? It can’t be both ways.   We cannot celebrate a mother’s love and then dismiss her grief.

Every time I tell the story of Dominic, it helps to keep him real.  Dom was always ready to create a funny and memorable photo! It reminds my heart that he lived, that he mattered, that he matters still. And in the telling, I am giving away a little bit of him for another heart to carry.  His light is passed to another soul that can pass it to another and another.

It was a long time before I wanted to believe that I received any gifts worth keeping from this life I didn’t choose. I knew I had tears, pain, agonizing sorrow, loss, heartache, dashed hopes, empty arms. If I could give those back and regain my son, I would do it in less than a heartbeat. I can’t, so I’m left here to ponder what else I’ve received from burying a child.

I know you don't know. I didn't know before it was ME. But I truly believe you would love to be more aware and more equipped to help my heart and the hearts of others carrying deep and heavy grief.

When each one of my children was born I received him or her as a gift from God.  I could not imagine there would be a day when I would treasure them more than I did on that day. But I do. I miss Dominic, because he was a gift from God too.

They say time is irrelevant in Heaven. Eternity is simply eternity. But for this mama's heart, time is very, very real. Thirty-five years ago I got to meet the little brown eyed, brown haired baby and eleven years ago I had to kiss him good-bye. A mama's arms are made for holding her child, not her child's memory.

Ninety miles an hour-that’s how fast my mind can go from here to there. From what’s in front of me to what’s behind me. From laughter to swallowing sobs.

I want my heart and my words to reflect that I know this Savior full of love and mercy. Spared or not, it’s no doing of mine.

I miss my child. I miss the family we used to be. I miss being blissfully ignorant of exactly how awful death is.

I’m waiting for the day my tears will be redeemed.  Waiting for the restoration of what the enemy has stolen, for faith to become sight.

My son is not a number or a statistic or only a memory. He is integral to my story, blood of my blood –part of my life.

On my hardest days, my darkest days I remember this: as fierce as my mother love may be, it can’t hold a candle to the eternal love of God.

God is for us. REALLY for us. So who can be against us? No one.

I am so, so thankful that the God I serve loves me. He specifically, purposefully loves me with unconditional love.

Jesus promises that the burden He asks us to bear He will make bearable when we bring it to Him.

when I rest completely in Jehovah-Shalom, the LORD Who is Himself my Peace, I am safe. Not safe from all harm, but safe in His love and care

So many people think grief grows smaller over time.  But that’s not it at all.  Grief occupies exactly the same space in my heart.

Oh how I love you! Your brother’s untimely departure has opened my heart in a whole new way to the glory that is your presence.