Grief in a Calendar

It's almost fall.
Everyone gets excited, takes a ton of pictures of their child, and an exciting new year begins.  Another year older, another milestone, more of life to be experienced together.  Our sweet Bean has a birthday soon, I have a birthday soon, my sister and her son have birthdays soon, then come the holidays.......All of these things lumped together magnify her absence.  This year, in particular, I'm turning a pretty memorable age.  35.  I will be the age my sweet sister was when we lost our Momma.  Anyone who has lost a loved one knows how it's so often unavoidable to play the "numbers" game...what if this, what if that, etc.

I keep going back in my brain, wondering if I'm just doing it all wrong.  Wondering about the looks I get, I know them well.....the, "Could you please just stop talking about your grief?" look.  I wonder if all these words words words that pour out of me are empty...I wonder if there's any point to keep on writing.  I honestly wonder if piecing these together in a book will be fruitless.  For now, I can't really decide.

I'm always intrigued by the accusatory looks that some often give when they ask, "How long has it been now since your Mother died?"...and yes, I've been asked that a lot.  One can always tell when that's either loaded with judgment, or a sincere question.  My experience has been that, "Shouldn't you be in a better spot now?" is what follows that question.  No, not all the time, but far too often.

So...how long has it been?  What a question!  It's irrelevant, really.  My Momma, the one who is half of the reason of my very existence, is dead.  She no longer breathes the same air we breathe. She isn't here in the fall, she isn't here for her family's birthdays, for her grandchildren's firsts that are experienced, she isn't here. What matters more than the, "how long has it been?" is that she lived, and what matters just as much is that she died....she died so early, she died so unexpectedly, she died so tragically.
Maybe, "How long have you been living with this ache, sweet you?" is a better question.

Too long.......the answer will always be too long.

*If death and absence shouldn't really "affect" us that deeply, shouldn't affect us for so long...then neither should life and presence.*

We can't have one part, experience all there is, and fully love, without then experiencing the stinging reality of the presence of death.  It will absolutely affect us!  If not you personally...then someone you love...which means it does affect you personally. Indeed, it does. We are our brother and sister's keeper.

We would never put a time frame around our life, the life of our spouse, the life of our child, our parents, our marriages, friendships, etc...why on earth did we ever start putting a time frame around grief?
Changing our language often helps us move to a better understanding of love and grief.

She breathed her last in December of 2007.
The calendar is a constant reminder.
But even then, it doesn't have to be a calendar that reminds me of her obvious absence.  I am often reminded when I look in the mirror, and sometimes I see a tiny glimpse of her.
Because I am my Momma's daughter.
My existence is a reminder of her absence.
And her absence is just as real as it was the first day we opened our eyes, and lived the first morning without her.

*Love has no end, nor the grief that holds its hand.*

The Music of Grief

I was brought to tears today during Church when My Love mentioned these verses:


"By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down and wept,
When we remembered Zion.
Upon the willows in the midst of it
We hung our harps."
Psalm 137:1-2


After losing my Momma in 2007, I remember all of the music going still.  I remember the silence.  I didn't ever want to sing again. I didn't want to ever play an instrument again.  I later realized that was okay.
Even now, all these years later...there is still silence.  Silence when I want her advice.  Silence when all of my family wishes she were here to encourage and support us.  Silence...because she is gone.  I started making music again a couple of years after that.  I began to sing again...but I sing differently now, I play differently now.  Oh friends, I've learned to sing and play and hum differently while navigating through this life that has handed more pain than I ever could have imagined .  Sometimes it is a loud and joyful song....sometimes it is heavy and sorrowful.

*I've swayed here in the sadness of my song. I've danced here in the dark dissonance of life. I've wailed in the midst of the ominous harmonies that lingered in the background.  All was worship, because all was genuine.*

I used to see music as healing.  I used to think it should immediately inspire.  And of course, some of it does.  But when I open up this old Bible of mine, it automatically falls open to these beautiful, haunting, sorrowful, very raw Psalms.  These pages full of people crying out to God, wondering when God will finally do something.  I never wanted to even try to understand the harder ones years ago...like Psalm 88.  But these pages, full of a very real people calling out to a very real and absent God...singing songs of their pain, of their longing, of their grief...they are now so dear to my heart. They have reminded me I'm not alone, and welcomed me into these spaces of despair...without trying to quiet my grief.

The Psalms make me feel safe to grieve.
May we always feel safe bringing our whole selves, sorrow, doubt, frustration, anger, and question upon question to this God who is so often absent.  God can handle all of us...


"Great is our Lord and abundant in strength;
His understanding is infinite."
Psalm 147:5

Speaking on Sorrow

On all the times someone is invited to speak about things they believe God has done in their lives at Churches, gatherings, or any speaking event...when I go through my memory, I remember all the good things we speak of.  How God has healed us, or someone we know.  How God has provided for someone in some way.  How God has answered our prayers.  And rightly so, these are things to be thankful for, and speak on, of course!

I can think of zero times someone spoke on the grief they live with.  Granted, some people don't speak publicly, which is understood.  But not only that, it seems as though speaking about sorrows like that would just be unacceptable.  And I mean truly speak...I mean being able to say the hard things.  Things like, "I needed a lot of help this week, help only a Mother could give.  But she is gone, so I did without."....."I watched a Mother with her baby today, and wished so badly I could hold my own, but I cannot."....."The one closest to me in the world is gone, and I need them now, but all that is left is my memory." 

Why are we not doing this with grief? With loss?  With the sorrow so many of us live with for such big parts of our lives???

We need to be better with talking about grief.  When it comes to the Church, being the Church, we can't pretend great griefs are not here, and only talk about the good things. No, I am not saying one must absolutely speak about their grief, we are all different.  Some people simply will not share things like this, and that is their own decision.  I'm particularly thinking of those who so badly need to talk about it, but have no place to, and have no idea where to begin.  When it comes to a Body of people coming together, worshipping, etc., we seem to forget the sacredness of grief.  We forget that crying out to God, asking where this God is, lamenting....these things ARE worship.  I fully believe nothing but the presence of God would be felt if this happened in the buildings the Church gathers in more often.  We have gotten good with wanting to end a story on a positive note, put a positive spin on all sad situations, and wanting to make everything uplifting.  We crave motivation, and we like to motivate others.  *But what if we just let love motivate us to grieve with one another?*  Because there are things that happen in this life...tragedies, death...that will never be positive, and they will never be uplifting.  That is just the way it is, and what beauty to be lived when we choose to navigate through these places of sadness alongside one another!

Think about all the things we celebrate each year, and we celebrate very well together!  We have birthdays, we bring gifts, we eat all the cake!
I wonder why we don't have more occasions to remember the lives that we miss so dearly, and have actual moments set aside to honour the birthdays that would have been, if our loved ones were still here.
I have been thinking about that so much.  Maybe I'll start doing that every February 7th.
Even as I write that, I think of all the people who would think what an odd or weird thing that would be.

Therein lies the problem with how we view death and grief. We are not good at walking this walk together once someone dares to put their sorrow into words.  Of course we may feel uncomfortable, but how do we expect to feel when speaking on, or hearing about someone's loved one who is no longer here??  Maybe it's better we think on the discomfort of those who live with this daily.
It's part of the reason I write so much, because I'm still finding new ways to live with this grief. Just as we grow, years fly by, seasons change...and so does the grief we carry. We should expect it to change, because we change.  But just as we are still here, so is the absence of our loved one.  Many of us know all too well when we wake up, yes...they are still gone...they are not coming back.
I've never been one to sweep things under the rug. So no, I'll never be able to do that with the very real absence that now exists where my Momma once was.
I wish we would try to hand over something better to people seeking places to merely be themselves, and truly come as they are with their sorrow. Not to find answers. Not to find reasons. Not to find platitudes. But to be able to voice their hurt and sorrow and grief, and find that they are surrounded by people who will sit with them in these sorrowful places, just as (I believe) Jesus would have us do.

If there were such a place we could come to, crying about, speaking about, seeking hugs, or just seeking a place to *be* with our grief, calling on one another for support, and crying out to a God who has been silent...Church should be on the top of that list.

 *I will say if someone did choose to speak on their heavy grief at the place our family gathers every week.....these people would probably all cry together, hug one another, share in the sorrow, and then we'd all make some good ol' casseroles. For a place like this in our lives, my husband and I are so grateful. But I also know places like that are very rare.*

I think it's time we start changing the way we talk about grief.
If we start doing that, we can love one another better.
Even in grief, love will answer best.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we truly did worship as they did in the Psalms. Out of the depths of hurt and pain and sorrow and doubt and abandonment and confusion and absence and silence.......

"But I, O LORD, have cried out to You for help, and in the morning, my prayer comes before you.  O LORD, why do You reject my soul?  Why do You hide Your face from me?"
Psalm 88:13-14

If you have been there, in a place full of nothing but hurt...if you know the deep ache many of us carry, please know you are not alone.  Your grief is sacred, it is sacred, it is sacred...

*Love has no end, nor the grief that holds its hand.*

The Wish for the Maternal.

My Love often does this thing.  He'll set his Bible down across the room, walk away from it and say, "Shhhhhh....let's all be quiet, and let the Bible speak.  It is going to tell us all something."  And we sit in silence......because we all know that will not happen.  It can often be an uncomfortable silence.


I think we could do the same thing with God....let's all be quiet, and let God talk to us.  Let God come fix all these wrongs.   Let God heal our grief.  Let God bring back our loved ones to us. Let God undo the painful memories of the tragic events our eyes have endured.  Let's all sit and wait, okay?  Ready, go.......
Let's do nothing, and keep saying, "God can fix your broken heart, mend your wounds, etc.  OR...let's step in, bring the bandages and the wine, sit down and weep with one another.  Maybe we could just sit with one another for a while in these earthy places...and then we can be closer to God. 





There's a look I get often. The "again, Jessica?" look.  The "are you still talking about your grief?" look.  The "are you ever going to learn to just stop talking about it, we are tired of hearing about it!" look.  I know it well.  And sadly, sometimes I let that look win.  And I am so sorry for the times I have.  Deeply.
The irony we, as people carrying grief know, is that there are some days the pain is so fresh again...there are some days the hurt is so heavy....that we DO wish we could stop feeling it all, so we could stop talking about it!!!  Just as one can choose to not listen to it anymore, some days we wish we could choose to not feel it anymore.
But we do feel it.  And tomorrow will come, and life will happen, and years will pass...and we will still miss our loved ones.  Because we will still feel it.


When I do get those looks, or even words like that from others, I am reminded of something our Little Bean said once, "Momma, dogs are never rude. They never judge you when you do something wrong. They're always right there!"  Absolutely, agreed.  May we learn to be more like our dogs!


Want to know why we talk so much about missing our loved ones?  It's the "could've beens".  It's the "should've beens".  It's because we only have memory to go on, so we cling to it, because my Momma should still be here!!!  She should still be here planning out every Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthday party, etc., with my sister and me.  She should.  But she isn't.  And we go on without her, not because we want to, because she died too early.....and the timing was NOT perfect....and there isn't some "holy" reason or lesson in it.  Hell happened for us in that, here on earth.  And now, we are still going on, as best as we know how.  But we still wish she were here. 


Hope Edelman speaks on this a bit in her book "Motherless Daughters".  She writes, "Of course we idealize.  Of course.  And we romanticize, too."  She goes on later to say, "Giving mothers this kind of posthumous power allows us to remain their daughters.  It gives us, in some small way, the kind of mother-daughter relationship we long for."




I bet you can count on one hand the times someone has said something to you that echoed down into the depths of your heart, and touched a place so tender, that it brought you to tears or laughter. I bet you wish those moments happened more often. They can, and they should.  It starts with us.  We can do better, we can be better, and we can say things better than we have before.  True, we were given two ears and one mouth.  ***But our mouths are closer to our hearts.  What echoes out of our lips speaks more about us than we know.***
The thing about our words is that they can hurt.  They can hurt so deeply that they can break a soul down.  They can hurt so deeply that they can be responsible for a person's downfall.  But...they can help so deeply that they can build a soul up.  They can help so deeply that they can be responsible for a person's well-being.  If only we can remember that before we speak.
And of course, sometimes in life there are just no words to describe the love, the romance, the joy, the pain, the anger, or the grief.  And that is okay. 
But we don't often want to take the time to feel with other people...we are busy.  Or better yet, we look at all the ways we can "fix" their lives.  "If only they'd listen to me, I could fix their life if they'd just come around to my way of thinking." 
***Sometimes we get so wrapped up in cramming our ideas and theology down someone else's throat, we don't notice they are full. 


Better yet, we don't notice they may have something better to offer us, if we could just stop talking and listen.***


If we believe God is a God of love, and we will absolutely see our loved ones again, (which I do), then can we just all agree to let those around speak about their loved ones?  Because as you are able to experience your Mom helping you raise your child, I'm watching.  Sometimes, absolutely jealous that Momma isn't here.  Sometimes, wishing I had that same help and encouragement.  Sometimes, wondering if you have any idea how lucky you are to have the hand of the maternal reaching out to you, because some of us reach out, and we know there is not a Momma to reach back.  So we do the best we can.  And kind words, encouragement, and the beautiful thing called LOVE is so very much needed, instead of a wish that we'd stop talking and feeling and wishing and loving....and writing.


Heaven help us when those wishing to quiet our sorrow win.  Heaven help us when we stop speaking on this grief, which only exists because of love.

The Thing About Death...

The thing about death is the slow swell inside.
The thing about death is the ache when we recall their voice.
The thing about death is the remembering.
The thing about death is the forgetting.
The thing about death is the tears that burst out when least expected.
The thing about death is the ache.
The thing about death is the inconvenience.
The thing about death is the space they left behind that can never be filled with anything, or anybody else.
The thing about death is the looks we get when others see the hurt in our eyes.
The thing about death is the long nights of wishing they were here, only to fall asleep knowing they are gone.
The thing about death is waking up and remembering yet again...they are still gone.
The thing about death is the look of pity.
The thing about death is the look of denial.
The thing about death is the look of annoyance.
The thing about death is the glare of contempt.
The thing about death is the patronizing so often given.
The thing about death is others being frustrated that we have the audacity to still miss our loved one who is no longer breathing.
The thing about death is the expectation from others.
The thing about death is the expectation from ourselves.
The thing about death is the empty platitudes.
The thing about death is the condescending clichés.
The thing about death is we want our Momma.
The thing about death is we want our Daddy.
The thing about death is we want to hold our child.
The thing about death is we want to laugh with our sibling.
The thing about death is we want to kiss our wife.
The thing about death is we want to hold our husband.
The thing about death is the silence.
The thing about death is that we grieve.
The thing about death is our grief is genuine.
The thing about death is it affects us.
The thing about death is the permanence.
The thing about death is all the could have beens.
The thing about death is the regrets.
The thing about death is it covers everything in our lives.
The thing about death is memory.
The thing about death is the finality.
The thing about death is...


The thing about death is...death.






Surely, if God has given us the immeasurable, unmistakable, vast thing called love...then too, God has given us the immeasurable, unmistakable, vast thing called grief.  They go together.


***Love has no end, nor the grief that holds its hand.***

Mother's Day and Throat Punchin'

There is honesty in grief.


If we are living with the death of a loved one, we honestly know the ache.  We honestly know the pain.  We honestly know that some days will be rough.  We honestly know that some moments will be filled up with all the tears we can cry, because our loved one is gone.  We want them back.  We honestly do.  We honestly miss them.


We LOVE them.  We genuinely, wholeheartedly LOVE them, otherwise...the ache wouldn't run so deep...the sorrow wouldn't be so heavy.....if it weren't for the great LOVE, there would be no grief. 
Both love and grief are why I find myself seven years later wanting my Momma to be here.  For Mother's Day.  For everyday.  For any day.
Sometimes I want her here for my own sake.  Other times for my husband and our son.  For my Daddy, my sister, my nieces and nephew.  For her siblings, her friends....but ALL the time, for the sake of LOVE.


My Momma's Momma passed away when I was in high school.  I still remember Momma saying things like how she wished Grandma Haston could've been able to see me get married, how she wished she could've been here on so many occasions.  I didn't fully understand the ache then...but oh how I get it now. 


If we are honest, which I hope we try to be, we will never hide behind a faith that eclipses the sadness of death.  Death stares us boldly in the face, reminding us that life is sacred.  *ALL life is sacred, even in death.*  Through the mucky, deep, incredible tears that we cry, death and grief remind us of the love that still exists...regardless of the death that has ripped us apart. 


One day I was talking to some friends about grief, and the heartless things that are so often said.  More often than not, these things are said in the name of "god".  (Bless their hearts...my friends didn't know what they signed up for with everything that floats around in this head of mine!  They are truly good friends, who allow a safe space for me...which is so important for all of us.)  After talking about some of the things we've been told, or have heard being said towards others after losing their loved ones, my friend had a response that pretty much sums up what countless people I know have wanted to say, but just never could find the right words.  She said something like this, "I would punch anyone in the throat who said that to me.  Like God planned for the Holocaust?  Or the Newtown Shooting?  Or some poor little girl being kidnapped and murdered by some scuzzy man?  If there is a God, he didn't plan any of that."


We have got to be careful with our words about God, because when it gets down to it, we are all just guessing.  Perhaps in all of our vast and often misguided certainty, we can remember that when it comes to death...we don't have all knowledge and wisdom.  And maybe, just maybe, this life isn't about obtaining all the answers, but learning to love ourselves and others.  Maybe it's about joining in with those who hurt....I could be wrong.  But I know of way too many instances in this life when the very being of God met with so many only after the absence of certainty and presence of grief had to meet.


We all say things that hurt people, we all make mistakes.  We learn, and hopefully, do better the next time.  There is grace, always.  There is grace for when we hurt others, and when others hurt us.
But there needs to be some more honesty in our faith when we talk about being so certain on all the things of God.  If we are ever brave enough to talk about this deep hurt, and somebody does use their god, faith, or bible, as a means to silence the grief we all know never really stops...then perhaps my friend's words of wisdom above are needed.


May we never, ever, use God as a crutch.  May we never tell already hurting hearts bibly-ish things in order to explain their pain away.  I believe with my whole heart that God is better than that.  God meets us in our pain, and never tries to quiet our grief.  It's not that God is bigger than our grief....God is just in our grief.  Sometimes we can get so certain about having all the answers, making everything have some meaning, that we forget some things have no meaning.  Sometimes in life, there is just hurt and grief.  Maybe the only meaning in those times is to welcome the honesty of it all, that we don't have answers....but we acknowledge the heavy ache that death leaves us with.  Grief reminds me, as well as so many others living with it, that sometimes there is not an answer, there is just hurting.  Sometimes, there is only grief because we miss our brother or sister or mother or father or son or daughter or wife or husband.......and time won't take that away.  I've found that time only reminds me of the absence she has left behind. 




The deaths of our loved ones will always leave an absence that refuses to be replaced.  Our lives were never meant to be replaceable!!!  Each one of us bears the image of God, and each absence leaves an immense empty space in this world.
There will always be this great void in our hearts calling out to the loved ones we wish to have had more time with.  Grief like that never goes away, we simply learn to go along with it.  I do not think God expects us to find answers, replacements, lessons, reasons, or Bible verses to quiet the sorrow within.  I dare say God loves life enough to understand our aches...and to understand our doubts, anger, questions, and sorrow. 
*Life is sacred enough, and love is sacred enough, and God is sacred enough to let us grieve.*


I'm glad my Momma said so many things about missing her Momma.  I'm glad she teared up when thinking of her.  She unknowingly gave me permission to grieve out loud...and that has meant so much.  I have never thought about that until this very moment of writing it out. 


Whether it has been a day for you, or 47 years, I hope you know you are safe to grieve in a God that welcomes ALL of you.  Whether it's Mother's Day, Father's Day, another holiday, or just any day that heightens the ache you have...may you know the ache is from the LOVE.  God welcomes your doubts, anger, grief, frustration, tears, and questions, even the ones that will never be answered.  Why would we ever expect less from the One we dare to call God???  If the god we follow can't handle all of us, then we need to find out what it is we're following.




Sweet one, you are not alone.
May you feel free to grieve the loved one you miss as you walk along the dirt of this big ol' place.
May you remember the deep ache you have is because of the deep LOVE you have.  And Love will always win. Always.



***Love has no end, nor the grief that holds its hand.***

I Don't Want To Be An Optimist.

Our memory holds us accountable for the grief we carry.


I'm sure you've heard all the sayings, clichés, quotes, and nonsense surrounding grief.  I am not going to waste your time typing them out, we all know them.  Especially the ones people have baptized, calling them godly. 


We were created in a certain way, and we have been given a gift of loving, of forgiving, of memory.  If there is anything anybody ever comes away with after reading my writings, I want it to be that first sentence:


Our memory holds us accountable for the grief we carry.


Too many times have I seen someone hurting over missing their loved one, silenced by some idiotic statement that's been splashed with a little bit of faithy-type talk, and thus had their sorrow and tears shushed away...that way nobody else has to feel anything that hurts.   "Shhhhhhh....be quiet and just let us live in our little bubbly bliss, don't ruin it with unanswered prayers and grief that is too heavy to speak on..."


It's easy to love a god who seems to be giving us everything we want, bending towards our own will.  (When we're honest, that's what we are praying for in our lives, our very own wills.)  When God doesn't give, when God is silent, when God withholds...what then?  I am not sure.  But I do know the mere fact that I speak of this same God, the one who has kept silent, the one who does not give...that is something. 


So many times people hide behind their faith, behind their god, behind their theology.  I don't know what it is about me, but I just can't do that.  I can't pretend like things are okay, I can't pretend like the injustices around me aren't happening.  I can't pretend like the heartache in and around me is not happening. IT IS.  There's something to be said for looking on the bright side.  There's something to be said for being optimistic. 
***However, we have to remember there is no bright side without the shadow.*** 


I John 3:18 says, "Little children, let us not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and in truth."
John 4:24 reads, "God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth."


When I read these verses, which are like so many in the scriptures, and when I read things like Psalm 88, I can't help but have my eyes opened to the truths that surround me.  I hear people speak of being optimistic, believing that God will answer our prayers, getting rid of negative people in our lives, etc., etc. (Which by the way, Jesus was absolutely one of the most "negative" people ever...but we like to ignore that stuff, it's too hard for us to explain, so we tuck it away in the far corners of our minds, replacing it with the fluffy things of our faith.)  For myself, there are too many things I've been believing in for too long that God refuses to move on.  There are too many things that optimism will never fix.  *I embrace that, because I am unable to ignore the obvious sorrows in this life.* 
I couldn't quite put it all into words, so I wrote the following.  I can hear My Love's voice throughout this, so I think he (though he didn't realize it) wrote it with me.  I can't say I hope it brings some comfort, because it may not.  But I sincerely hope my writing on these hard truths can help others who dance around this world know they aren't alone in their questions, doubt, anger, sadness, and frustrations with God and others.  I hope if you're out there, and you have been living days that are just darkened by sadness, emptiness, all of which you have no control over...I hope you know you're not alone.  I'm okay with God knowing my anger towards him, and I know she understands.  I will continue the wrestle, sometimes it's all we can do.






I don't want to be an optimist,
I have to be honest in this.


This life is often unbearable,
The pain and tears won't end.
Even when it's nothing we've done,
It seems like God will not bend.


We want to scream out we've had enough!
The heartache just won't go away.
We really want things to get better,
But the sorrow and tears just stay.


How easy to just ignore it all!!!
How easy to pretend it's all okay.
To shrug it off with, "God's timing is perfect!"....
And every other empty cliché. 


That isn't enough for me.
An empty faith will never fulfill.
I can't help but hold God accountable,
I can't help but be honest and real.


Relentless I'll be in my wrestling with God,
I refuse to let it all go.
I will keep trying with all I am-
My grief, longings, and sorrows, God knows.


A faith that needs defending
Is nothing that deserves to be followed.
If it cannot stand on its own,
Then it is obviously hollow.


If my hope is in God, then so is my love,
And love never ceases to be.
If I believe in God, I'll remember that
God also believes in me.


God believes I'll do the right thing,
God believes in me to be pure,
God believes I'll hold him and her accountable,
God believes I will endure.


Just as a Mother and Father have hope that
Their child will take care and be brave,
I'll keep holding on and wrestling with God,
I will not let go, I won't cave.


I don't want to be an optimist,
I have to be honest in this.


J.N.S.
April 2015

Grief, Love, and Wine.

Talking about my own grief is never easy.  It is nearly impossible to find the words at times. Even when I sort of stumble my way through, there's always the remembrance that so many people will be judging me.  It's true, we all do it so often...whether we judge other people, know they are judging us, or even judge ourselves.  We can be so harsh towards one another. We can be so hard on ourselves.


One big, huge, GIGANTIC thing I'm grateful for is a Momma and Daddy who raised my sister and me to be ourselves.  I remember my Momma telling me to speak up, and make sure I don't let people push me around.  It was probably because she knew me well enough to know I'd need to hear it.


(Quick story...)
I recall a time when my heart was broken years ago... (teenage love affair broken, that is).  I was a mess, crying, and did not understand why someone would hurt me so badly.  I knew she and Daddy were upset, too.  I just noticed this look on her face, one that would protect me from any dragon in sight. She told me a few days later that she had this urge to drive up to my school, find that boy, and just fill his mouth up with gravel!!!  I remember laughing, because it was so ridiculous.  Although, I loved feeling that protected.  Now, looking at my sweet son, I feel so badly for whatever young girl(s) comes along and breaks his heart.  No, seriously, I feel bad for her.  Because if you know me, you know I will throw down when needed!  ; )


Back to my original thought. 
She always nudged me in the direction of myself.  She urged me to be true to myself, to take care of myself.  It's what every parent wants...we want our child to be who they were created to be, we want them to thrive, and we want them to take care of themselves.  My parents both felt, and Daddy still feels, that same way.


Ironically, I now use her words to take care of myself, while I grieve her absence in my life.


It has been so freeing to talk and talk and talk and talk and cry and talk about my grief.  True to myself, I guess, because I talk.......a lot.  (Ask my husband.) It is so important to me to grieve freely, because grief helps us trudge through the deep sludge of moments and days when we just miss our loved ones.  Some days are just thicker with grief, heavier with sadness.  We can't quite put our finger on it, but it's just there. 


I write so much about it because it helps me.  I also write so much about it because it is so precious to me to try and give you who grieve that same freedom, to keep going through your days, knowing it is perfectly acceptable, even admirable, and even a form of worship.  IT IS. 


My grief hasn't taught me some grand lesson in life.  It hasn't brought me to some deep place of thought.  It hasn't helped me "heal myself". 
That, I believe, is the great hole in our thinking about grief.  We so often look to be healed of our deep ache, to be healed of the emptiness that now exists in the place of our loved one.  But here's the thing, if we strive for that.......the emptiness will still be there.  They are not coming back.  My Momma, she is not going to walk through the door and come have lunch with me on a Sunday afternoon, though I wish so badly she would! 


I have a feeling that God knows that...I kind of sense that God knows our grief will still be there.  The hope we have, our faith, whatever name you want to put to it...what makes it so important is that there is ***SO MUCH ROOM***. 
Guess what?  We can all walk there, carrying all of our grief, and see a Jesus who doesn't try and shush our grief for one tiny second!!!!!!!  Instead, He may just let us be who we were created to be...He may just want us to be ourselves.  Being true to the grief we carry is being ourselves. 
Maybe after seeing Jesus in that light, we can all scooch over and make room for one another, even when we don't particularly feel like hearing anymore about how much you miss your Momma who died when she was too young, leaving you as a new Momma yourself, and you just want to talk to her for a day. 


Maybe we can find Jesus when we sit down and say, "Here's a glass of wine, tell me your story, and I'll tell you mine."


Maybe if we can make room for that, we can make room for the deep love that resides alongside grief.  Maybe we can find Jesus in one another while we make room for one another's grief.

Even After Breath, Love Wins, My Darling.

There's a divine group of women I asked to come along this journey with me.  Every several weeks, we get the chance to come together and just vent.
I've found kindred spirits in their sweet souls.  They've made me feel loved.  I've tried hard to make them feel loved.

I've noticed over the past year or so that we have all done something, whether intentionally, or not.  In some ways, we each have mothered one another. 


While not ideal, and while it's never meant as a replacement, we have.  We vary in age, our Momma's have left us at all different times in our lives.  Yet we so deeply see the need for that Mother daughter bond, that we often step in and fill it for one another.
I love that.
I believe my Momma would've loved that. 


The bond between a mother and child is so strong, and the yearning for that bond never lessens after they leave us. 
So many of us who go on without them know the reflex to call them, whether it's been a month, or eight years.  We still want to call Momma.  We want to share our news with her, no matter how good or bad it may be. 


I've also noticed something about myself since living out these years without her to lean on. 
I've started to mother myself.  Sometimes, it is instinct.  Other times, it is not.  VERY much not.  There will be those crucial times, when I want advice, input, encouragement, or just interaction...but from nobody but her.... I have to push myself to stand in for her.  In those moments, (often they come in spurts, sometimes the length in between is long....other times, they just keep happening) I find myself wondering what it is she would say or do or be for me.
She'd just be my Momma.  She'd be the one in my corner, regardless.  She'd be the one taking up for me, stepping up for me, standing up for me, protecting me.  I've noticed when I feel those same things about our sweet son, I remember...."Oh yeah.  Momma felt these things for my sister and me.  She thought we were so wonderful.  She dreamed for us.  She would've (and often did) said and did whatever needed to be done to take care of us."  (I'm grateful I still have Daddy here, and a stepmom now.  I know so many others don't even have that.  It is something I do not take for granted.)


Lately I have been thinking about my birthday that happens this fall.  I'll be turning 35.  It's one of those "big" ones.  Heaven knows how much I wish she were here to celebrate.  I know how much she wishes she were here, as well.  It donned on me recently how young I was when it all happened.  I've learned to go on, to cope, to roll with the punches of this grief, so much that I often forget.  It took several comments over the past few weeks that made me remember.  Yes, in the grand scope of things, I was young when it all happened.  In some ways, remembering that is helping me to be gentle with myself.  It is helping me love myself.  That realization, which has just been on my heart so deeply, has helped me give myself permission again to grieve. Not to lock myself away for days and cry.  (Though sometimes, that is exactly what we need to get us through the deep grief we carry.)  But, only to whisper to myself that it is okay.  It's okay to hurt, it's okay to want my Momma....just like our little boy wants me even moreso when he is hurting. 


That is what grief is, it is hurt.  We hurt.  I am so grateful for my husband, who always lovingly sits with me in this grief.  Who often just looks at me, and knows already what I'm thinking.  He is a soft spot for me to lean on when he knows I just want Momma. 


It has been a little over seven years.  I guess I expected to be in a "different" place regarding my own personal grief.  Life keeps reminding me that as gentle, as forgiving, as merciful, as I can be towards others.....it is a good thing to be the same way with myself.


A sweet friend reminded me that seven years is not that long.  She was right. 


In the grand scheme of this life, it is perfectly okay for me to sometimes say, "I want my Momma, It's not fair you still have yours, Stop complaining about your Momma, I want someone to come help me clean my house, I want someone to come give my husband and I a break, I want her to come babysit for me, I want....I just want her."






There's a whiteboard in our schoolroom.  I wanted to put a great quote on it, for our family to see everyday.  Something inspirational, empowering, motivational, etc.  At the end of the day, I remembered how loved I always felt by her.  What echoes through my heart is how powerful love is, because even beyond her days here, I can hear her tell me, her daughter, something like this:





If there's anything I can remember rightly, it is that she loved me.  That, I believe, she still loves me.  If there's anything I want my husband and our son to know, what they will never have to doubt, not in a million years, it is just that:  You are so loved by me, My Darlings.


For the moments you think your love may not be that big of a deal, I hope you can remember it certainly is.  I hope you know, in all the grief you are carrying, that you are so loved, my darling.

Feeling in the Space.

I've been thinking lately about space, and how important it is to make space for all the wonderful humans in this world.  It is just as important to make space within us.  I've been thinking about the many dreams I have... the unknowing, the excitement, and the frustration.  The dreams of what *could have been, and the ones that could still be.  Living with grief makes us do that sometimes, let our minds wander just a bit about how things would be different if they were still here.


I have heard so many people talk about filling the space of grief or hurt with something good, or replacing it with something else.  Whether a hobby, job, or merely ignoring it and keeping busy.




Maybe God doesn't fill the space at all...and maybe we shouldn't, either. 
Maybe God allows us to be bold enough to *feel*  in the spaces of our grief.... rather than just fill them in.


It is the harder path to take.  It causes us to face the hard questions, the hard doubts, the anger, and the frustration.  It calls us to one another, even when it's not convenient.  (Death and grief are never convenient, by the way.)  It makes us give of ourselves from those deep places of tenderness and vulnerability, the spaces that are riddled with doubt.  Sometimes, those are the best places to give from.


I'd much rather FEEL in it all, than fill it in with something shallow and substandard. 


Life is much too short and precious to never feel the grief of what could have been.




(The Offspring made this picture.  The assignment was to draw about giving to one another.  I adore where his heart and brain went with the idea.)

Your Tears are a Means to an End, Your Pain is God's Project. (NO!!!)

*We talk so much about how deeply we miss you, and that's because we love you so deeply.  We miss you on birthdays, holidays, and other big milestones that keep getting passed throughout our lives.  You always poured so much of yourself into us.  As a very special person once pointed out to me, you were always good at making those around you feel special.  This coming Saturday is your birthday.  February 7th.  More than words can express...we wish you were here, so we could celebrate you.  We'd make a big deal about you, reminding you how loved you were (are).  If you were still here, that's exactly what would be on the agenda for this weekend.  Momma, you are so missed.  The following post is not only in memory of you, but in honour of you.  I miss and love you so much.*






God takes everything bad, and makes it good...and the same will happen with your grief.
God's timing is perfect, so trust that He let it all happen for a reason.
God is trying to teach you something.
It's in your pain that God is using you for others, so just trust the "plan".
All the tragedy is happening to get you to a "deeper" place in your life.
God is allowing the tragedy to happen to you, so you can help others...








***As if God uses our deep, miserable, dark, aching grief as a means to an end.**
 I have heard phrases like those listed above countless times over the past few years.  I know so many other precious humans who've heard the same things.



May it never be!  May we never see our grief as a way to "polish", or "mold" us into something. 
May we never view grieving people as projects!!!
May we never, ever, ever, ever, ever cast aside another person's sorrow as a "stepping stone" in their
faith, ignoring the very real and obvious emptiness death leaves them with.


When one is given grief, it lives in every moment.
Grief is now.
Grief is here.
Grief is raw.
It fills your Tuesdays, your Sundays, your afternoon coffee, your morning yawn. 





May we all stop looking in on someone as they ache from the inside out, thinking and saying, "Well, God is trying to teach them something."


Maybe, just maybe.......God wants to teach you how to hurt with them.
Maybe that's the lesson.
Maybe it has more to do with you.
Maybe it is to teach you empathy, love, compassion, and feeling.
Or maybe.....it just IS.
NO lesson at all, for anyone.
NO big scheme to pull you into a "better" you.
Maybe the sorrow is just here.
Maybe we just need to learn to live in the darkness, the uncomfortable silence, the sadness, the tears, the loneliness.  Maybe, just maybe.  Maybe we can learn to just *sit* with one another 
through the pain.  Maybe God meets us in our pain, and hurts with us...





Living with grief is not something people choose.  When we've lost someone we love, it happens TO us, not BECAUSE of us.


If God is so macabre to have to inflict heavy pain on us to teach us some "lesson", then I want no part.





I believe God is much more loving than that, my friends.





Putting my heart, tears, and sorrows into writing...then binding them all up in a book, are not ways to say, "Hey, look what good came of this!".... 


May it never be seen that way!!!


One of the reasons I write about the hellish world of living with grief is to meet other humans in their own grief.  Maybe to open their eyes about dealing with it.  Maybe to just help myself.  Maybe to open someone else up to helping their loved one carry that grief. 
But never, NEVER, as a cheap way to eclipse the Deep Sadness I carry in living without my Momma...


That is a cheap way to view life.
That is a cheap way to view death.
That is a cheap way to view grief.
And that is a cheap way to view God.








Everytime I've heard words uttered like the clichés listed above, I want to say, "Yeah, you're right.  God let my Momma die early, tragically, unexpectedly, hellishly, all because I needed to learn a lesson.  My Daddy needed to learn something.  My sister needed a lesson.  My Momma's siblings, her friends.  Though it's an absolutely egotistical way to view life,  I'm so thankful God did that, aren't you???".......though I've never actually said any of that.  But sometimes, it takes a shock like that in someone's ears to get through to the cold things we often say.  Don't repeat things just because you've heard them, words are important. 


I only considered publishing some of these pieces of myself after thinking of all the other people who reached out to me in their grief, because grief is pure hell.  And when you're alone in it, it's worse.  And when someone is telling you empty things about it, adding their own theology to it, and telling you you're "doing it wrong".....well, I am unable to even describe how damaging that is.






May you realize in your grief that it is never meant to be a means to an end.  May you know your hurt is real, it is deep, it is raw.  May you remember that God meets you in it, and doesn't cancel out your pain with a cheap cliché.


May you always be free to grieve.

Pieces of Me, In a Single Piece

There are so many reasons not to.

I don't have time.
I'm doing too much already, why add another thing?
It's going to exhaust me.
It's going to be mentally draining.
It's going to hurt emotionally.
It's hard enough dealing with grief, let alone writing about it.
Who would even bother reading?
Who would even support me in this?
I have no letters after my name.  Because of that, what I write about really shouldn't be taken seriously.
Who am I, little ol' me, that anybody would care to read?
Is my story even important?
Are my thoughts, my heart, my soul being laid bare, even worthy of someone taking the time to read about?
What difference would it make?
Really, who cares?




***These are all honest thoughts I have had.  I'm quite sure I'll continue to have them.  I could add to the list, but that's the crux of it all.



She sat in the rocking chair, rocking that sweet little toddler.  He giggled.  She prayed with him, laughed with him, sang to him, and she tucked him into his bed.



Minutes later, life would change forever.  Her new best friend, her Momma, whom she'd been getting to know more intimately since becoming a mother herself, would leave this world behind 10 very long and brutal days after that phone call.



It's for that young lady's little boy that I write.  It's for that young lady's husband that I write.

For all the times she cried herself to sleep, running out of strength to cry anymore, I write.
For all the days she saw another girl her age spending time with her Mother, watching them go on shopping trips, seeing them enjoy a coffee together, I write.

For all the days she wished her Momma would walk in her house, babysit her son so she and her husband could go out on a much needed date...I write.
For all the times she wanted to call her Momma and ask her questions about her own childhood, I write.  For all the times she just wanted to get into a good ol' mother/daughter argument, I write.  For all the moments of remembering, wishing memories of my Momma would be replaced with new experiences with her, I write.


For over seven years, I have used this blog as a place to write about the grief thrusted upon me since losing my sweet Momma.  Life handed me this deep, empty, ongoing heartache...and I have so many questions about it.  So many frustrations, so many doubts.
Love is unending, indescribable, so vast that it fills our hearts and our days with things that will not fit into words.  If love is so massive that it can't be contained in our words, then naturally, grief is just as vast.  Just as unending.  Just as indescribable.

One thing I know, it will never end.  Grief, in all its messiness, will always be something I carry.



For all the sweet humans I've had the privilege of talking to, who have sent messages to me, cried with me, who carry this great burden of grief that should never be carried alone...wondering if they are alone in their tears...I write.




It's been a long time coming, y'all.
I'll be piecing together select writings from this blog, and putting it all in one thing.  That thing is called a BOOK.   !!!!!!!   I'm excited and scared.  There are still plenty of questions, lots of uncertainties, and I am sure I'll continue to second guess this decision.  I think my husband will keep nudging me along. (Lord knows I'll need it.)  I can think of a million and seven reasons not to do this.  It's hard stuff to live with, and it's hard to write about.  Naturally, this is a little intimidating to me.  However, it needs to be done.  If the only person who gets a copy and reads it is my husband, so be it.  I'm doing this in memory of my Momma, in honour of her.  I miss you, and you are so much more
than memories.  I love you, Momma.  I'm doing this to document my story, filled with deep sorrow, filled with anger, questions, frustrations, tears, faithless moments...full of unending grief.  (Because grief is unending.) This is my way of speaking to the depths of grief others carry.  Never sugarcoating this dark burden.  Always raw and honest. It is my way of letting you know that in your grief, you are not alone.



So I guess, stay tuned?  Or something?  : )  Or, ignore and carry on, if you prefer.


I hope my story in this upcoming book can help other precious humans learn to embrace the grief that was thrust upon them.




"Bear one another's burdens, and thereby fulfill the law of Christ." 
Galatians 6:2

Grief is Not Like a Scar.

When I think of the past several years without my Momma, I now realize I have done a lot of creating.  My eyes have created tears through this grief.  My heart has created space for the sorrow where her presence once resided.  I have written so much.  For myself, for her, and for others who carry the burden of grief.
Maybe there was a small part of me that thought one day I'd run out of words to say. 
I am now certain that will never happen. 




By no means is this blog a journal.  There are so many things I do not publish about my grief.  There are some things my heart will never share---too intimate, too scary, too sorrowful.  There are things I know people would just never want to read.  For those who have read my tough writings on grief, I know that is saying a lot...because I do share so much from the emptiness grief gives us. 


I have learned that diving into the bottomless ocean of grief has been so freeing.  I am free to grieve for my Momma, without any expectations from anybody, without a timetable, without the barriers others have placed on themselves, and have tried to place on one another. 




I have learned to live in the graceful and dark corridors of grief, to navigate through the pitch black halls...because my eyes have adjusted to the darkness. 
And learning to live with this darkness helps me live with all the light.


It has made me live with such a full appreciation, to breathe in the love and laughter that fills so many other rooms in this vast life. 

*I hope, if even for a tiny moment, all the feels I pour out through this little blog of mine help you feel the freedom that grief brings.* 




We all lead different lives, we all experience different losses, we all have a choice in how we handle the emptiness that grief leaves each of us.  Some of us never tell our stories, and that is okay.  For me, I write.  I tell it.  I have been where damaging things were said regarding grief, especially when people used their "god" to manipulate others into how they ought to deal with grief.  That is just one of the many reasons I openly wrestle this animal. 




God, our images of god, our theologies, etc., are all very dear and important things to me.  I refuse to let empty theologies on God and grief be the crux of what is handed over to those in my life.



I don't have all the answers, but there is one thing I am certain of...
For all of my heavy tears that have fallen...for the times my heart feels like it is broken into pieces...when my spirit has been overwhelmed by grief...


Those are the times I know the presence of God has been near.  Beyond any doubt.  Even though I search for God, study things regarding this God, and try with all of myself to know God...so often it feels like trying to grab smoke.  But...in those times I have thought of my Momma, the emptiness we have in her place, and the tears have fought their way through my big, brown eyes...
I know God has been with me. 




God has to be...because this deep grief, I cannot bear alone.  And I shouldn't.  And neither should you.




It's hard to hear, isn't it?  It's heartbreaking to know someone hurts so much.  It stabs at our souls.
But we are supposed to be the Body...
And part of what the Body does is carry the rest of the load when one part is hurting.  Though unlike a broken limb, or a deep gash, grief remains exposed.  It refuses to scar over, it will not allow a cast to straighten it out...it remains.


May you never feel alone in your grief.  May you know this God is with you, may we be the Body, and show you that YOU...the one who lives your days with the great burden of grief, are never alone.


This is written In Memory of My Momma...though you are so much more than *just* a memory.  I love you, and I miss you everyday.


Darkness of December


Though she's no longer here, I still go on.
Through winter, fall, summer, spring, and dawn.
There are days I feel the sadness cover,
But I will keep on living, though I live the days without
My Mother.


The ice has covered everything today.
It all glistens now, so hauntingly.
I think of the life she lived, her heartfelt laugh,
And remember my hometown that now holds her in Texhoma,
My Momma.


The days that keep on passing never cease,
And so often how I feel the grief increase.
I cling to all the memories we were given,
And think of one sweet day that I will see her once again
In Heaven.


Though she isn't here to talk with I still know her...
And eerily it seems like some days she's closer.
It's been so many years since I've heard her say my name
And I'd give anything to talk to her on any day,
My Momma.


Christmas was her favorite time of year.
So now I deck these walls in holly gear.
These tears can come so easily now to me,
As I see the Christmas angels how I long to see her once more,
My Momma.


The one who grew my very body is now gone.
Who kissed my tender face first, my sweet Mom.
I'll live these days without her now,
I'll get it figured out somehow,
I hope.


Tonight the memories haunt, they all surround me.
I know tonight won't be a time for happy.
The tears are coming out now, and I've learned that it's okay-
In fact I swear this God is closer when the grief has its own way,
So I'll sit and let them fly, I'll let the heart of God surround me
On this day.


I laugh a lot throughout the days, it's true.
I start the moments God's given me all anew.
As hours turn to days and years,
I'll keep going through the fear,
God I wish she could see her grandson here,
I miss her every day and year,
I know God holds my every tear,
I'll  remember your voice in my ear,
My Momma.


J.N.S.
December 4th, 2014

Sometimes, Looking Back Helps Us Look Forward.

I wrote the following poem in March of 2009, it had only been a little over a year since losing our sweet Momma.  I am thinking of many loved ones, as they are grappling with grief.  None of us walk the same path, the beauty of this life is the diversity of us all.  But we do walk together. 


I was 27.  A new Momma, myself.  I was looking forward to sharing the rest of this crazy life with Momma.  I was looking forward to the close friendship we shared, as I'd become a young woman who had gotten past the stage of seeing all her faults.  I saw her as she was, the best Momma ever.
I was cheated. 
There's a side of God I've become more acquainted with after all these years, the side I still argue with...rage against...question...and often ignore, as well.  Because I know God can handle that.  I know God understands the feelings I have of being cheated, of watching other women my age have their mothers come and take care of them, take care of their grandchildren, clean out their refrigerators, bring them medicine when they're sick, listen to them tell about the humdrum ins and outs of their days.  God understands the feels I have when watching other women have the luxury of simply talking to their mothers...


God knows. 


I'm okay with the questioning, with the anger, with the grief that comes in deep waves, and never knowing which way I'll get hit.  I'm okay with it, because I know God understands the deep sadness from within.


For you sweet, beautiful souls who wrestle with grief, I write.  You are not alone.  You are loved.  I have no answers, but please know that you are a big reason behind the sharing of my soul on this little blog.  Hang in there, Sweet You.















HE WROTE A NOTE JUST FOR YOU TODAY,
YOUR GRANDSON WHO IS JUST FOUR.
HE DOESN’T QUITE UNDERSTAND THAT
HE’LL NEVER GET TO SEE YOU ANYMORE.

SOME DAYS ARE HARDER THAN OTHERS,
TODAY IS ONE THAT’S BEEN BLUE.
ACTUALLY, IT’S BEEN A GOOD YEAR,
MOMMA, I CAN’T STAND LIFE WITHOUT YOU.

THERE’S SO MUCH GOOD HERE, I KNOW.
BUT IT WAS BETTER WHEN YOU WERE HERE.
I NEVER THOUGHT I’D BE HERE WRITING
THESE WORDS, THAT YOU’D NO LONGER BE NEAR.

BUT I GUESS YOU’RE NEARER THAN I KNOW,
IN WAYS I SIMPLY CAN’T UNDERSTAND NOW.
I KNOW LIFE WILL KEEP MOVING ALONG,
BUT SOME DAYS I HAVE TO WONDER HOW.

I MISS THAT I CAN’T CALL YOU EVERYTIME
AND SHARE WITH YOU ALL THAT’S HAPPY,
I MISS THAT I CAN’T HEAR YOU CALM ME
WHEN LIFE BRINGS MORE TRAGEDY.

I MISS BEING ABLE TO HEAR YOU LAUGH
WHEN YOUR GRANDSON DOES THE CUTEST THINGS…
IT’S MOMENTS LIKE THIS WHEN I HAVE TO TRUST
THAT I’M BEING SHELTERED BY ANGEL’S WINGS.

AT TIMES IT SEEMS SO LONELY,
LIKE NOBODY’S THERE TO LISTEN TO ME.
I HAVE TO KEEP ON GOING, TRUSTING,
AND REMEMBER HE HAS NOT LEFT ME.

I WONDER HOW I’LL GET THROUGH ALL
THE MILESTONES IN THE YEARS AHEAD,
YOU’RE STILL ALWAYS THE ONE I WANT TO CALL,
BUT I’LL HAVE TO SETTLE FOR ANOTHER INSTEAD.

IT’S NOT THAT I DON’T HAVE ANYONE ELSE,
GOT A GREAT HUSBAND, CHILD, FATHER AND SIS.
BUT LATELY YOU’RE ALL I’VE WANTED TO
SEE, GOD HELP ME MAKE IT THROUGH THIS.

GOD HELP ME ON DAYS WHEN I’M LONELY.
GOD HELP ME WHEN ANGER COMES BACK.
GOD HELP ME WHEN I ASK THE SAME QUESTIONS AGAIN,
GOD PLEASE COME AND PICK UP THE SLACK.

GOD COMFORT ME, BECAUSE I CAN’T DO IT.
SOMETIMES WEEPING IS ALL I CAN DO.
GOD TELL MY MOMMA I MISS HER SO MUCH,
AND THAT I SAID, “I LOVE YOU.”

GOD HELP OTHERS WHO FEEL THIS PAIN,
WRAP YOUR ARMS AROUND US WHO ARE HEAVY WITH GRIEF.
PLEASE WHISPER HOPE INTO OUR EARS AND HEARTS,
AND PLEASE SEND US YOUR SWEET RELIEF.

HELP US TO KNOW THE LONELINESS HERE
WILL VANISH ONE BEAUTIFUL DAY.
HELP US TO KNOW YOU KNOW HOW WE FEEL,
IN EACH AND EVERY WAY.

HELP US TO KEEP GOING, AS WE REMEMBER
THE LOVED ONES THAT WE MISS.
HELP US KEEP ENJOYING THE LIFE WE HAVE HERE,
AND REMEMBER IT WON’T ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS.


J.N.S. March 7, 2009

The Courage to Grieve.

There is something our Sweet Bean always says regarding courage. 




“Courage doesn’t mean that you’re not scared.  It means you’re scared out of your mind, but you do what you have to do.”

 

Since the Deep Sadness, so much has happened.  It seems like minutes ago that we received the phone call about her.  Yet it seems like ages ago.  That is one way grief is so excruciating.  We look back and realize how long we've been going on without them.  Yet we want to always go back to that moment just before tragedy happened....when they were still here with us.

But in life, we are moving forward.  There's nothing we can do about that, that's just the way things are.  How hard it is to deal with the sadness and loneliness of grief.  How heartbreaking it is to let the tears flow when we just want her back.  How haunting it is to remember the face and the voice of the loved one we miss every moment.  How painful it is to see people take each other for granted when they have this precious gift of life radiating from them.

The work of grief I’ve done all these years has done nothing but give me courage, it's given me the great courage to grieve.

In the weakness of grief, we recognize how vulnerable we are.  We affirm that we need one another.  We understand the beauty of this life.  We learn to carry one another, which is more sacred than we can imagine.

Grief makes us vulnerable.

And vulnerability is not a flaw.

It's through being vulnerable that LOVE is born.  And as I've written before, grief goes hand in hand with love.

As we do the fun planning for our Offspring's big TENTH birthday party, there will be moments of grief.  I know from the past few years that they can blow in like a strong breeze out of nowhere.  I know they can be heavy.  I know they may not come until another time.  Either way, they will come.  That is another way of grief.

Grief is like the night...dark but always approaching,

Like the day...full of expectations, but often filled with heartache,

Like the moon...sitting in darkness, yet reflecting the light,

Like the sun...always there, but sometimes hidden by the storm below.