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.

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’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.

that’s what child loss does to a mama’s heart.  It shatters it into pieces so tiny and so fragile. And the pieces never make a whole.

The longer since his leaving, the more I feel I need to have it together in public. My tears are inexplicable to those who've forgotten,

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.

It’s different for every heart. But each of us who know child loss have a season of sorrow. It’s more than “just” the day our child left.

If you can, join us.  You may be nervous up to the very minute you show up or log on but I PROMISE you will not regret it. 

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.

It is neither helpful nor healthy to pretend that sorrow and sadness don’t follow loss.