The people who choose to stay and offer compassionate companionship are a vital part of healing after child loss.

I work hard to find something for which to be thankful each day. I try to get outside and breathe in the fresh air and soak up the sunshine. And when I have a rainy day-whether it is literally dripping water from the sky or simply dripping tears from my eyes-I try to do something that will help my heart hold on.

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.

I still struggle to remember things that used to come easily. I still hear words that I don’t always understand. I depend much more on paper and pencil to keep track of important dates, appointments and phone numbers than I used to. And I never walk away from the stove.

There is NO way to balance losing my son with any earthly blessing. I have my other children.  Yes, but I had them when I still had him.  I have my health (sort of).  Yes, but I had it when I still had him.  I have a home, freedom, food-yes, yes, yes.  But all that I had when I still had him. So you see, I can’t make it balance out.  No one can. But there is a kernel of truth in this hymn.  And it’s not in trying to pile up one side and weigh it against the other.

It seems unbearable to think ahead to the possible years of doing this hard thing.  And it is- UNBEARABLE.  If I look at the missing writ large across the rest of my life, I will crumble beneath the weight of it. Yet, I only have to live this moment, this breath, this day.

In my most desperate days, C.S. Lewis held a lantern in the dark for my heart. I’m so grateful for his absolute honesty and bravery in revealing the angst, questions and pain of great loss. I continue to quote him as proof that it’s not “just me”. Even a titan of the faith, a man who gave an exquisite apology of Christianity, was as vulnerable as the next person to doubt.

I'm so thankful that when the darkness is all I can see, the Lord brings people (and His own precious Presence) to remind me that light still exists.

I first shared this eight years ago so it may shock some folks that while I have finally tossed most of the things in my fridge that once belonged to Dominic, I’ve got a giant bottle of hot sauce I’m still using. Every time I add spicy flavor to chili I think of him. I’m not looking forward to the day it runs out because it will be one more link dissolved between the living son I knew in the flesh and the memories I have to settle for now.❤

Those hours before I planted one last kiss on my son’s forehead, I held his hand.   I nodded at the people filing past to pay their respects with my arm tucked behind me, desperate to cling to my child. And I’m still clinging.   I will not let him go.   I don’t care how many days or months or years march on taking me further from the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand or the brightness of his smile-I refuse to release my grasp.

I’m thankful this other day exists! Thankful for a day when I can think about and speak about and embrace the child that won’t be with me next weekend. Because Dominic is STILL my son.  He is still very much a part of my heart.  And I need to be able to speak that aloud for others to hear.  

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’m learning to stand up and speak my truth even when others don’t understand it. None of us chose to be bereaved parents.

Because of Jesus, while this reality is harsh, hard and heartbreaking, I have an eternity of rest, renewal and redemption to look forward to

When my heart was shattered, my hope hanging on by a thread, the Spirit of God brought truth to mind and gave me the strength to hold on.

Jealousy is a green-eyed monster and I want no part of it. I have to focus on the gift and not the loss.  I can't always do that.

I long to be a burden bearer for my friends and family because I know what it is to carry a burden. So I ask the hard questions.

when my son died suddenly in an accident and a deputy came to my door,  it changed me.  It modified who I am and who I will be.

To understand the beauty of forgiveness and the blessing of redemption, we MUST acknowledge the sorrow of sin and the burden of brokenness.

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