Out of the Darkness
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The dark days

10/23/2015

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It's October 23.  Autumn is in full swing here in the Northeast.  The air is chilled.  The leaves are nearing the end of their life cycle.   Their previously vibrant and warm colors are fading and turning to a dreary brown.  The cool breeze captures them, taking them from their trees, dancing in the wind as they gently fall to the earth.  

My mood mimics this transition to darker days and longer nights.  A draining of color. A dearth of energy.  I, too, grow weary and withered.  I know it's coming and yet I'm powerless to stop it.  

It seems fitting that Autumn is the beginning of what my husband calls my "dark months."  It begins in earnest today, whether I want it to or not.  It begins today because today is where my daughter's life began.  It's her birthday.  She would have been 14 today.  She's been gone 11 years.  ELEVEN YEARS.  How has it been that long already?

After celebrating her twin brother's birthday this morning, I went to the cemetery, Tinker Bell balloon and new Tink wand in my hand, to give my deceased little girl her birthday gifts.  I sang "Happy Bird Day" to her through the tears.  I twirled around, imagining she was dancing with me, laughing.  I found myself laughing out loud.  It would be so fun to do that again...  

I watched the leaves fall to the ground as the wind kicked up and felt my spirits fall with them.  My heart literally grew heavier.  She's not going to twirl with me ever again.  It's so wrong.  It makes me mad.  It makes me sad.  I miss her.

You'd think after 11 years of this exact same experience, the pain of this day would lessen.  Or at least last only a day.  But of course, that's not how grief works.  That's certainly not how the grief of a bereaved parent works.  Sure, I could stuff it, or ignore it, or distract myself.  Does that really serve me or her memory, though?

The overall pain of her death has changed.  It's not as sharp as it once was.  I've integrated it into who I am and all that I do.  That does not mean I've forgotten her, how much it hurt to lose her, or that I don't feel those sharp pangs of loss like I did the day she died.  It just means most of the time, it's not sharp. I still miss her every bit as much as I did the day she died.  I still love her every ounce as much as I did then.

That's why it's so hard.  

For me, the time period between Meghan's birthday and her death day (December 18) is always a difficult season.  Perhaps because the holidays are fast on the heels of her birth day.  It's my grief season.  Silly, really, because grief knows no seasons.  Grief is now embedded into who I am.  I am a bereaved parent and I will always be a bereaved parent. I will never forget her life, nor her death.  Most days, I am able to function like most other people.  Of course I think of her every single day.  I miss her every single day.  Yet, I'm able to balance that with the joys and demands of daily life.  Most of the time...

The dark months are not dark every day, although some days are certainly harder than others, like today.  Yet as the holiday season approaches, the way I choose to function, the way I need to function, increasingly diverts from the way I function the rest of the year. .  

There is a palpable progression to my mood, my emotional lability, and capacity to function.  As the anticipatory grief that surrounds her death day builds, I increasingly lose sight of the color in my life.  I feel as raw as the now naked trees must without their leaves to warm them.  

As the days and weeks inch closer to her angelversary, my ability to tolerate even the most minor of "issues" all but disappears.  My memory worsens.  I forget things more and more.  My mood becomes more depressed.  I withdraw.  I dial waaaaay back on social things.  I change my habits.  I lose my appetite.  I'm tired all the time.  I have no energy.  I don't want to go to work.  I don't want to have to listen to anyone else's "problems."  I don't want to party or celebrate.  I am much more likely to cry at the drop of a hat.  My "give a crap" meter is pretty much at zero.  I just want it to be over.  
But of course, it's never going to be over.  Because she's not coming back. 

So why now?  Why is October the start of my dark season?  Why is it different than any other day? Aside from the fact today is her birth day, and because she was a twin, I forever see one where two should be?  

It's mostly because of the rush of the holiday season.  You see, I can't stand going in the stores after Halloween.  I go out of my way to avoid it.  If I have to, I'm an irritable, tearful, exhausted mess.  Why?  Because the reminders and triggers are too great.  The holiday music.  The decorations.  The music.  The cheerful shoppers.  Parents who have their children, especially little blonde girls around the age of 3. The pretty little girl outfits.  Those can drain the energy right out of me in a matter of seconds every time.  I'll never get to buy her one.  I'll never Christmas shop for her again. All the dreams and plans I had for her will never be realized.  Nothing drives that home more than this time of year. 

Christmas just doesn't hold the same magic and joy it once did. How could it?  I buried my daughter 3 days before Christmas 11 years ago. It will NEVER be the same.  
I know the triggers are there, I just choose to avoid them as best I can. Why subject myself to the emotional torture?  I can't stop how I feel.  I can't change how I feel.  I deserve to be able to honor my feelings.  And so, well, let's just say I'm grateful for Amazon prime.  It has made me a much more efficient holiday shopper. 

The fall also brings Thanksgiving and the religious holidays, for us, Christmas.  It's a time when family and friends gather and celebrate.  For a bereaved parent, it's a harsh reminder of who is missing and why.  I'm jealous of families that don't know my pain. Why me?  Why not them?  They can't fathom my pain.  I can't tolerate their joy for very long.  It hurts.  It just.... hurts.  

Family and friends can wrap you in love and understanding and there are wonderful ways to integrate your loved ones who have died into your holiday celebrations, and we do many of them.  Yet nothing takes away the fact they are gone.  No one feels that pain more acutely than that child's parents.  Unless you've lost a child too, there is just no way you can understand it.  Still, those who reach out, say they are thinking of me, say her name or share a story about her, gosh, I love that! 

One of the things that I lose sight of during these dark days is the impact it has on my family.  Aside from the fact I'm more irritable, less attentive to the household duties, and tend to let things slide (back to the "give a crap" meter), I'm emotionally less available to my family.  

My husband struggles with this, in part because he's very empathetic.  It's impossible for him to know what kind of day, or even hour, it is for me emotionally.  He wants to help.  He wants to "make it better."  Of course he can't fix it. He does a wonderful job supporting me, letting me know I am loved, and helping as much as he can.  He is not Meghan's biological father, so he has a different perspective. His pain is more so from the loss of his wife emotionally than it is the pain of a bereaved parent.  He never had the chance to know and parent her when she was alive.  He has said to me it's as if he loses his wife for 2 months every year.  He doesn't know how to cope with that, even though he understands why and it happens every year.. Now, he dreads the dark season almost as much as I do. He grieves for my loss and the impact it has on me. He grieves the change in our relationship and family dynamic for this brief period of time. This is an often overlooked aspect of grief on those who support the bereaved. 

So how does one navigate the dark days, whatever they may be?  It could be one day, a week, a season, or even an entire year, especially that first year after a loved one dies.  

I think honoring your feelings is the most important thing.  Don't be afraid of what you feel.  You feel what you feel, and that's okay.  At the same time, don't hold it all inside. Share how you are feeling.  Share why you are feeling it.  Seek support from family, friends, or professional counselors.  Join or attend a support group for the bereaved.  The Compassionate Friends is a great resource for bereaved parents, grandparents, and siblings.  

Take time to nurture yourself.  Take a day off.  Go for a walk outside.  Connect with nature.  Perhaps schedule a massage, Reiki, a pedicure, or some other body work.  Let yourself be cared for.  I plan for a massage at least monthly and more often if I can, especially during November and December.  

Develop a ritual of remembrance.  Today is made easier for me because we've developed new ways of celebrating the birthday.  I always bring her a balloon and a little trinket to the cemetery - I go alone and spend however much time I need.  As a family, we later (or before, depending on the timing of the day) put a number candle in a suet cake and sing "happy bird day", run around silly singing "Tinker Bell all the way" like she used to, and then we have a little cupcake picnic right there in front of her stone.  We decorate a pumpkin with a kitty face because she loved kitties.  This year her twin brother gave it a birthday hat.   We donate items to the local animal shelter, too, in her memory.  If I'm lucky, I see a heart cloud, an orb in a photo, or some other sign.  Today, it was a nice heart of blue sky among the clouds.  

​

We've created similar rituals around the holidays with candles and pictures and attendance at candle lighting and memorial services.  There is a new ornament every year in her stocking for the tree.  We buy gifts she would like and donate them to charity every year.  We visit the animal shelter kitty room named in her honor.  I teach a safety class in her honor every year.  I share her story, in the hopes others will be spared her fate.

Know that although you may have dark days, weeks, and months, recognizing them and what is driving how you feel is important to how you cope.  Where my dark months used to be nearly pitch black every day, they are now more of a light misty gray.  Sort of like cloudy days among the sunny ones.  

For me, it's not that every day is a bad one.  Most days in fact, are pretty good, peppered with waves of sadness, anger, or tears.  Certain days are of course, worse than others, and I now know what days are likely to be the worst and can plan for them, by choosing to take the day off or say no to social events.  I literally schedule time in my calendar to nurture my memory and my soul.  

I truly believe that the best way to heal is to be honest about how you are feeling with those around you.  Even if you don't understand what you are feeling or why. We needn't walk alone.  But we have to let others know we'd like the company and support along the way.  

​How do you cope with your dark days?  



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The gift of 9/11:  Grief Keeping

9/11/2015

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Fourteen years ago this morning, I, like many of you, had no idea that our world, our country, our lives, were about to forever change.  

Like you, I remember very vividly where I was and what I was doing when I heard the first plane had hit the World Trade Center Tower in NYC.  I was 8 months pregnant with twins and had just returned home after dropping my almost 3-year old son at pre-school.  I was excited because I was getting my hair cut that morning at 9:30 - alone!  

I was standing in the kitchen when the phone rang.  It was my best friend Diane.  I remember her saying, "Are you watching the news?  Someone crashed their little plane into the World Trade Center!  How do you not see a building like that?!"  We talked for a bit, about that and our kids, she told me to turn on the TV. While we were talking, we watched the second plane hit.  "OMG!" we both exclaimed nearly simultaneously.  I stood rooted in shock.  This was no accident...

I went to get my haircut.  The girls were young and had no idea what had happened.  The radio station they were listening too broke in with the news.  I explained to them the horror of what was happening.  It was a terrorist attack.

I returned home to learn the south tower had collapsed.  In shock and through tears, I was transfixed.  What the hell was going on?!  I realized we had a friend who was flying out of Boston to LA that morning.  Was she on that flight?! (she was not, but it was hours before we knew that) After picking my son up at pre-school, I, like most others, was glued to the TV for the rest of the day.  My hormonal and emotional self crying with and for all those I did not know and the pain they and their loved ones were enduring.  

My husband was sent home from work as a precaution, as his office was next to an air traffic control center Federal building and they established a perimeter of safety.  As I drove to a local hospital to teach a childbirth class that evening, it was surreal that there were barely any cars on the road at 6:30 in the evening on a major highway.  It didn't occur to anyone to cancel the class (it was not my call do do so) but we should have.  Everyone was already home, trying to understand what was happening to our country. The hospital was locked down.  It took forever for me to waddle around to get security to open the door for me. Only about 1/4 of my class showed up.  We spent the first half hour processing together, I sent them home early. 

I do not personally know anyone who lost their life in the tragedy, but we all know someone who did or someone who knows someone who did.  My heart goes out to them today, as it did that day, and always will. If you lost a loved one that day, I am so very deeply sorry for your loss.  May peace fill your heart that they will forever be remembered by millions who never knew them.

What I do know, is that day, and in the weeks that followed, there was an amazing transformation in millions of people.  The pain and grief of the families who lost loved ones was shared by millions the world over.  It was a collective grief.  It gave birth to compassion, love, sharing, cooperation, and a collective public sharing of grief, unprecedented in our modern time.  We saw grief.  We felt grief.  We shared grief.  We stood together, one nation, united in our grief, united in our commitment to show fear will not win.  We worked together, we were resilient, we were compassionate, we helped complete strangers in their time of need.  It was not us against them.  It was us helping us. 

Underneath the horror of the events that happened that day, and because of all the people who lost their lives that day, was born a tremendous gift of grief.  September 11th is now a day of public grief keeping. While a horrible act of terrorism claimed thousands of innocent and unsuspecting lives, there was a gift all those beautiful souls left behind.  They helped to teach a nation that grief isn't something that "goes away" or that you "get over", it's something that changes us at the very core. They taught us they deserve and need to be remembered and their loved ones need support. 

We are never the same after a loved one dies.  September 11th, 2001 changed individuals directly impacted by loss, but it also changed our culture. Fourteen years later, we see the importance of grief-keeping and publicly sharing our grief on this day.  With memorial services, in the media coverage, and all over social media.  It didn't stop the week after, the month after, or even the year after 9/11/2001.  It continues every year.  The memorial grows.  The history is told, and with it, the story of the importance of grieving is shared through the attention given to remembering those lost and seeing the value in these rituals for their loved ones.

What I want everyone to take away from this is that grief keeping is also important when losses are not so "big" or due to an attack on our country.  Every life matters, no matter how brief or long lived it is.  Every loss matters, no matter the age or circumstances at the time of death.  Grief changes you.  And as the bereaved, we want nothing more than for our loved one to be remembered and for our pain to be acknowledged as something that we carry with us every single day.

We will never forget is a phrase you see closely tied with September 11th.  Please know, it's a phrase every person who has ever lost a loved one carries in their heart, every day, but especially on the anniversary of their loved one's death.  If you are participating in grief keeping today as part of the 9/11 memorial (for example sharing a Facebook post), please remember to do the same for that friend or family member who lost their child, spouse, sibling, or other family member or fried on their angelversary, too.  Because it matters that your remember them, too, their life and their death.

We will never forget...
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The importance of self-care in grief

5/2/2015

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As bereaved parents, we are often so lost in our grief, especially in the first few months and years, that we forget to take care of ourselves. For some, it's part of the shock, numbness, fatigue and depression that is common in grief.  For others, it's a lack of appetite, energy, or perhaps emotional eating that causes weight gain or loss, a falling off of a usual exercise routine, or previously religiously kept spa appointments that fall off the radar.  Sometimes, it's because we're so busy taking care of our other children, an older parent, or swamped with work.  We often don't even realize we're not taking care of ourselves, because we think we're doing "okay" and no one told us otherwise.  Whatever it is that causes it to begin, we often get stuck in a pattern until someone points it out and gives us the chance to break that pattern. 

Today, I had the opportunity to attend a healing retreat for bereaved mothers.  It was organized by a local support group for bereaved parents and was held at a spiritual retreat center.  It was especially for bereaved moms and I think there were 18 people including the facilitators.  It was billed as a day of hope and healing and that's exactly what it was.  

The day began with a bit of mingling before we were brought together for a quick introduction to the schedule of the day and a lovely healing/restorative yoga session.  The instructor was a bereaved mom who had special yoga training in working with trauma and grief.  Many of the moms said that it was in that yoga session they realized how much physical tension, stress, or dis-ease they were holding in their bodies for the first time and made the connection with it to their grieving.  The opportunity to identify it, consciously relax, and release it was such a gift. 

Yoga was followed by a group session in which we all had a chance to introduce our child to the group. Speaking for just about 5 minutes each, we lit a candle for our child and passed around a photo of them so everyone could "meet" them.  While the photo went around, we talked about our child.  Not just about how old they were when they died or what their cause of death was, but about their life, their personality, the impact their life and death had on our lives.  There were tears.  There was laughter.  There was some swearing in both anger and humor.  There was compassion.  There was no judgment, only love and understanding.  The kind that can only come from another bereaved mom.  Some of the moms had lost their children as recently as 4 months ago, some a decade or more had passed since their child had died.  They lost newborns, toddlers, teens, and adult children.  The opportunity to share, learn, understand their grief, and heal was beautiful.  The facilitators were heart centered and excellent because of and in spite of their own grief.  


Next, there was lunch and an opportunity to connect with those who shared similar losses or had other information for us.  Some of us gathered on the front stairs to soak up the sun and chat some more.  


The afternoon consisted of a wealth of self-nurturing and healing bodywork, including mini Reiki sessions, chair massage, and an amazingly relaxing sound healing.  The day closed with a circle facilitated by a woman who was teaching us how to connect with our children in spirit and included another deep relaxation session.


The day was exactly what it promised - healing and hope.  A chance to self-nurture. A chance to stop and listen to our bodies, our mind, our soul, and our spirit.  An opportunity for us to be open to receiving love and light, healing energy, and physical and emotional release.  


Moms can be pretty hard on themselves on any given day.  We are always helping and nurturing and caring for others, putting our own needs last.  In grief, we are even more likely to forget to take care of our own physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, and often, we don't even realize the toll that neglect takes on us on every level.  


The thing is, our children, on earth or in spirit, want us to be happy and healthy.  They don't want us to wallow in grief and pain.  They want us to remember their life, honor them, and yes, it's okay to feel the pain of grief, but through self-nurturing, you can better cope with the challenges of grief and release the pain and fear to open your heart and soul to love.  For love raises our vibration and a higher vibration brings us closer to connecting with spirit.  


I feel as if today was one of the greatest gifts I've given myself in my grief and it's been ten years.  It's an entirely different experience to have all of these relaxation and healing opportunities in one day than it is to have them individually over the course of weeks or months.  Of course any opportunity to self-nurture is good!  The take home message is that you deserve you time. You deserve time to both honor your child's life and loss while allowing your body to release the tension you hold as a result of the cloak of grief you wear. Taking care of you is vital to your health and well-being.  Your child would want you to be healthy, happy while still holding them in your heart and memory.  You can have both! 


Be sure to take some time to nurture yourself every day.  Even if it's just a quite cup of tea, a few deep meditative breaths, or a walk outside.  Find something that resonates with you physically, a once a week yoga class, walking or some other exercise, or a massage once a month.  Made it a priority to have a date with your soul.  You deserve it.  


Namaste.






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Anticipatory Grief:  Coping with Mother's Day when you have lost a child

5/1/2015

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It's May 1st.  May holds the promise of warmer weather, the unfurling of leaves on the trees, and the blossoming of the flowers.  Birth abounds in nature.  

May also brings one of the most bittersweet days of the year for bereaved mothers everywhere.  Mother's Day.  I can already feel the anticipatory grief building and it's still 10 days away.

As a mom, I, of course, always looked forward to Mother's Day.  When my children were young, I loved the crafts they made in school and the dandelions they picked just for me.  I loved celebrating my children, my motherhood, and reflected on how blessed I was to have three beautiful children, two of them twins.  We had such fun...

Then, suddenly, one was gone.  After Meg died, Mother's day was no longer a day I looked forward to. It is a day I dreaded.  A day all about being a mom.  A day when I am harshly reminded that I failed at the most basic level of my role as mother.  I failed to keep my child alive.  The guilt is like a slap in the face on this day more than any other. Where there used to be three children to spend Mother's Day with, there were only two.  Except it wasn't just Mother's Day.  It was forever.

The first few years I noticed I got very irritable and depressed as Mother's day drew closer.  The very first year I didn't even realize why or that was how I was behaving.  On the day itself, I woke early and went to the cemetery.  THE CEMETERY. No mother should have to spend any part of Mother's day at the cemetery!   There I cried. I wrote.  I even lay upon her grave while sobbing.  I hated the day and just wanted it to end.  I wanted to run away. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and hide.  I wanted to be alone.  I just couldn't deal.  I tried to enjoy what my boys did for me and to spend quality time with them, but it was so hard.  To look at them and know she was missing, it was almost unbearable, more so on this day than any other, since it was all about being a mom, thus all about my children.  Why? How? How could I even consider myself a "good" mother when one of my children had died? No, don't celebrate me.  I don't deserve it.  That was the undercurrent of what I felt, though I never expressed it at the time. 

As the years passed, I noticed the anticipation of Mother's Day was almost worse than the day itself. Knowing it's a trigger day, knowing it's a difficult day for me, the waiting for it to come, and thus, be over, is worse than the actual day itself most of the time now.  In 2009, 5 years after Meg died, I was at the cemetery on Mother's day morning, alone, as I always do.  I sat in front of her stone and had a tearful conversation with her.  For some reason, I felt compelled to look to my right, skyward.  I saw this:

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Could there be any more obvious sign of love from the Heaven's?  I smiled through fresh tears.  Thank you, Meggie.  I love you, too.  Mommy really needed that! 

I've gotten heart clouds as a sign ever since she died, and now I also very often see hearts in nature in every way, in addition to frequent hearts in the sky.  This one was one of the biggest, most obvious, and most special ones I've ever seen.

Now, ten years have passed.  Ten Mother's Days without my little girl.  I'd like to say they are easier, but I'm not sure they are.  They are different.  I guess I've learned what to expect and how I best cope with the grief I feel a bit more strongly on this day.  Don't get me wrong, I still dread the day.  I still shed tears.  I still want it to be over long before it is here.  I am still starkly reminded of my essential failure as a mother (please know despite my guilt, I have processed and accepted it, yet still can't help how I feel) this day more than any other, but I try to focus on the fact I am still her mother.  

I am still the mother of three.  On Mother's day, I have a wonderful opportunity to educate others that we bereaved parents are still parents to our angel babies.  Just because our children no longer walk on earth with us does not mean we are not their mommas.  They are still our children.  We can still mother them through our memories, the sharing of their name, their story, their personality, their energy.  We can maintain a relationship with them through reminiscing, prayer or communication with them in whatever way resonates with us. We remember them.  Every day.  On this day, like every other, I live between two worlds.  The earthly world where we are having our human experience, and the spiritual world, where I maintain a connection and a relationship with my daughter and other deceased loved ones.  It's a beautiful thing, but not unlike a tightrope at times.  I'm never sure if the net will hold me when I fall (emotionally). 

If you are a bereaved mom, know that this may be a difficult day for you.  Honor your feelings and know whatever you feel is okay.  Let others know it's a difficult day for you and why.  Let them know what you do and do not want to do to celebrate your motherhood and your relationship with your children, alive or deceased.  If your family wants to take you out from brunch, but the thought of having to be 'on' and social in an environment where there are lots of people and you feel like you have to 'hold it together' when all you want to do is cry or run out the door, let them know you'd rather do something else.  Or maybe, do nothing at all.  It is your day after all, do what you feel you need to do to cope and to heal. 

As a bereaved mom, how do you plan to spend your Mother's day?  Do you have any traditions or rituals that you have created to remember your child on this day? 

If you know a bereaved mom, know that Mother's Day is one of the hardest days of the year for her, no matter how long her child has been gone or how old they were when they died.  Let her know you are thinking of her and her child (say their name to her).  Let her know you are sensitive to the fact this day is probably a difficult one for her.  Offer to be there for her.  Perhaps send a card, email, or post a heartfelt message on Facebook and raise the grief I.Q. of her friends, too!  Maybe bring her flowers or gift her something with her child's photo or name to honor the mother and child relationship, a keepsake she can treasure. Share a memory you have of her and her child with her.  Tell her you love her.  


Please always remember, one a momma, always a momma.  Love never dies...

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Mother's Day 2014 with my boys. I was finally ready to go to Mother's Day brunch. The one on my right is Meg's twin.
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Coping with the triggers that abound in spring

4/14/2015

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PictureA glimpse of spring at Meggie's "special place" at the cemetery. A tribute to her love of Tinker Bell and pink.
Spring time is finally here!  Many of the bereaved struggle with winter, especially those who live where it is cold and snowy.  Winter tends to cause us to want to hibernate and may feed depression, especially for those who already have depression or seasonal affective disorder.  

Triggers abound in the springtime
Spring brings sunshine, warmth, cleansing and nourishing rain and an abundance of trigger days for the bereaved.  It also brings hope.  Spring itself is a time of re-birth, renewal, and many ceremonies to celebrate these elements happen in the spring.  Baby and wedding showers and weddings can be very difficult for parents who have lost an adult or teenage child.  Proms and graduations can be difficult for all bereaved parents, but especially those who lost a younger child who would be attending prom or graduating this year.  Memorial Day is also a day of remembrance, not just for our Veterans, but for all parents who have lost a child and all people who have lost someone they love.  We remember and honor them on this day all over the country.

Mother's and Father's Day
And then, the biggies.  Mother's Day and Father's Day.  I know I dread Mother's Day.  While not all parents feel this way, Mother's Day always reminds me that I failed in the core tenet of being a parent.  I failed to keep my child safe and alive.  It's a huge trigger for me and for many other bereaved moms.  On a day when you should be celebrated for the amazing mom you are, the sacrifices you've made for your family, and honored by your children, you are painfully and obviously reminded one of them (or for some, more than one) is missing.  Never to wish you a happy Mother's Day again.  Your other children likely still want to celebrate, all you may want to do is hide, cry, or pull the covers over your head until it's over.  Or, perhaps you choose to focus on your surviving children, because the pain of your loss is just too challenging to cope with on that day.  It may manifest in different ways or on the days before or after the "main" one.  I know I am often irritable the day before and profoundly sad the day of.  Many father's feel the same way on Father's Day.   You long for the past and your mourn the loss of the future. 

Some tips for bereaved parents for coping with these difficult days
- Give yourself permission to feel whatever you feel, and to change your mind.  Know feelings will come and go and may do so at unexpected times as well as expected times
- Share your thoughts and feelings with others.  Let them know these are difficult days or events for you and why
- When accepting invitations to events that may be a trigger, let the organizer know you may be a last minute decision or even may need to leave early if it proves to be too emotionally difficult for you.  It's okay to decline invitations, too.
- Always carry tissues, just in case
- On days of significance, create your own way to celebrate.  Make a donation to the school's prom or graduation fund in memory of your child, ask their classmates to wear a button or ribbon in their memory (the same can be done at baby and wedding themed events), decorate their grave in a way that is meaningful to you, write them a letter, light a candle in their memory, request a religious mass or dedication at your place of worship on or near that date, bring a photo of them to the event and set a place for them to honor their place in the event. 
- Create or wear a piece of remembrance jewelry or a pin/button with their photo
- Create your own ceremony or ritual and add to it or change it over the years as you feel called to.  
- Remember it's okay to cry, to laugh, to be angry, to be happy, to be silly, to feel sad or depressed, to celebrate, or to not celebrate.  There is no right or wrong, only what feels right for you.

Tips for others to support parents on these difficult days
- Send a card, email, or give a call.  Let them know you are thinking of them and their child on this difficult day for them
- Say their child's name, share a memory
- Offer a hug. Just because you care.
- Send flowers or make a donation in their child's memory to a meaningful organization to the parents/child
- Offer to help - run errands, clean the house, take them out for lunch or to stop by with lunch or supper to talk or offer support.
- Gift them a copy of my book, or another book on coping with loss.  It's never too late!
- Listen.  

- Do not offer advice, judge, or tell them they "should" or "should not" do anything.  Validate whatever they are feeling
- Tell them you love them
- If you are holding an event that is on or near a date of significance or simply the event itself is a trigger (Father's Day BBQ, a wedding, graduation party, etc.), reach out to that parent and let them know how much you'd love for them to attend, but that you understand it may be a difficult day for them.  Simply letting them know you remember, and acknowledge the pain they feel in missing their child, goes a long way to helping them cope and grieve.  Ask if they'd like you to do anything in memory of their child. at the event.
- Be understanding if they cancel at the last minute, or declined your invitation and want to attend at the last minute.  Understand they may leave the room or the event at times, cry, or have a difficult time being enthusiastic.
- Gift them a token of remembrance.  A piece of remembrance jewelry, a photo of them and their child in a nice frame, a garden stone, a wind chime, a plant for their yard or garden or grave site.  
-Did I mention say their child's name and acknowledge how difficult this day is for them?  

Triggers are unavoidable.  Some happen completely out of the blue and unexpectedly.  Others are more predictable.  If you are a bereaved parent, or know one, remember, it does not matter how old their child was when they died or how long it has been.  Certain days of significance and rites of passage are difficult for the bereaved.  Some more so than others.  

Having tools and permission to both grieve and cope in a way that is meaningful to you is the most important gift you can give yourself or a bereaved parent, grandparent, sibling, or a friend. 


Most importantly, remember whatever you feel is what you feel.  It's okay.  There is no right or wrong way. Only your way. 


May memories bring you comfort and may you always feel the love of your child and loved ones who have died in and around you.  Love never dies. 

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The Nationwide Make Safe Happen SuperBowl Ad – A Trigger for Bereaved Parents?

2/2/2015

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Did you see the Nationwide Make Safe Happen Superbowl Ad?  If you have not, please beware it may be a powerful trigger for you.  How did it make you feel?  There is also a longer Ad that explains the Make Safe Happen program in more depth and is a little less emotionally jarring here. 

No matter how new or “old” your grief, anything that reminds you of your child, their death, or the way they died could certainly be a trigger.  That commercial no doubt blindsided everyone, but it may have been especially difficult for bereaved parents, especially those who lost young children, and especially if their child died from a preventable accident.

While it’s understandable that bereaved parents might be angered or upset by the commercial, it is my hope that they will be able to understand two things through their grief.

First, triggers are a normal and unavoidable part of grieving and you should absolutely talk about your feelings.   Get support if you need it.  It’s okay to feel that pain.  It’s okay to cry, to be angry, and to suddenly be brought back to the day and way your child died.  It’s difficult and it’s upsetting but it’s also a normal part of grieving.  No one wants to be blindsided by a trigger.  Triggers hurt, no matter what causes them.  Allow yourself time to process, to understand where those feelings you are having are coming from and why.  Remember, they are born of love.  The love you have for your child.

Nationwide did not make the commercial with any disrespect for bereaved parents.  Quite the contrary, they are sympathetic to your pain and want to spare others the same pain.  They did so with a boldly emotional ad that was designed to get people’s attention and make them aware of what they can do to protect their children, so no other parent need ever know our pain.

The ad brought up all the things we, as bereaved parents, struggle with every single day.  The fact that our child died.  The fact they will never get cooties, learn to fly, ride their bike, or get married.  We’ll never see them grow up or grow older.  Our children are like the boy in the ad.  They died and were denied their future… we were denied our future the way we imagined it would be.  It reminds us that our dreams were snatched from us.  This ad blatantly and unexpectedly reminded us of that.   That was not Nationwide’s intent, but it is an unavoidable side effect of their very emotional ad.

For some parents, you may have been reminded of how your child died.  Perhaps your child died of drowning, of a tip-over, from a car accident, or from poisoning or choking.  Perhaps the children pictured in the ad were similar in age or appearance to your child.  Perhaps the other images were relatable for you and it was disturbing.  Perhaps you still harbor guilt because you were not able to prevent the cause of your child’s death and this commercial stirred that up.  At a time when you were having an otherwise enjoyable time, perhaps with your grief on the back burner, only to have it brought to the surface and “ruin” your day.  Believe me, I get that.  I still carry guilt with me and I always will. 

Please remember, Nationwide meant no disrespect to bereaved parents.   It would not hurt so much if it were not for the fact we love them so much.  We miss them so much.  We’d give anything to have them back.  They get that.


Which brings me to the second point; I desperately hope that despite the pain and feelings that might have surfaced as you watched that commercial, that you don’t lose sight of the very important message the ad was trying to convey.  Nationwide wants to prevent kids from dying.  They want to tackle the fact that preventable accidents are the #1 cause of death to children.  They don’t want any other parent to ever know our pain.  They want to save the lives of children.

Yes, I’ve lost a child to a preventable accident.  Yes, the Nationwide ad made me cry.  Yes, it was a “buzzkill.”  It blindsided people, on purpose.  That’s exactly what happens when a child dies from a preventable accident, too.  As bereaved parents know all too well, one minute your child is fine and then, without warning, they are dead.  It happened to at least one parent while they were watching the SuperBowl yesterday. 

The Nationwide SuperBowl ad was also brilliant.  Why? It was raw, real, honest, and absolute truth.  It was creative and emotional. It started a conversation.  One no one wants to have.  Yet it’s one everyone should have.  One everyone needs to have. It hit at the fear of every parent; that their child could die.  Something we know all too well.

It made millions of people aware not only that preventable accidents are the #1 cause of death to children, but gave them a place to find information so they can prevent those accidents and protect their children.  They have a free website www.makesafehappen.com and a free IOS and Android app that allows parents to go room by room, by age, or by safety category to find out what dangers may lurk and how to prevent them from injuring or killing their child.  They give strategies and resources for prevention.  

That information may not apply to you, but there are millions of parents who need that information.  There are millions of children whose lives could be potentially saved with this information.  The SuperBowl was the best way to reach the most parents at once.   Nationwide was not the only company raising a social issue during the SuperBowl.  They were not the only one pulling at heart strings.  They just happened to be one of the ads that unintentionally hit bereaved parents the hardest. 

As many of you may know, I am a vocal child safety advocate.  I lost my Meggie when she was 3 to a furniture tip-over.  I started Meghan’s Hope to educate other parents about the danger of tip-over and prevention so no other child would die the way Meggie did.  Yet they still are, and in greater numbers than before!  I have partnered with Nationwide on their Make Safe Happen campaign because I can’t do it alone.  Because I believe we need to raise awareness and I know for a fact raw emotion can compel at least some people to action.  Because I believe with education and resources and a wakeup call, we can save lives.   

I’m sure if any of us had the knowledge and the resources to prevent our child’s death, we would have.  No matter what the cause of their death was.  Yes, we are still hurting, and in many ways, always will be. We can’t let our own pain cloud the fact other parents can be spared our pain. 

May you find comfort and peace in your grief and find a place in your heart to understand Nationwide meant no disrespect, no ill intent to parents who have lost their child.  They want to protect children.  They want to save lives.   They want to spare parents our pain. 

All opinions expressed are entirely my own, however Kimberly and Meghan’s Hope are partners with Nationwide’s Make Safe Happen Campaign and has received compensation materially or financially for the promotion of the Make Safe Happen Campaign.

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Kisses from Heaven

1/27/2015

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Today, we were snowed in.  A blizzard kept us home for a snow day.  Not really all that surprising when you live in New England.  It snows.  Sometimes, a lot.  Today was one of those days.

Some people complain about the snow.  I used to be one of them.  Until the day after my daughter died.  In my grief and need to get out of the house, I went for a walk in the dark of the night.  It was snowing, the beginning of another significant New England snowstorm.  There was but an inch or two on the ground.  As I walked, I noticed the quiet of the night.  The peacefulness.  The purity and cleanliness of the freshly falling snow.  As I gazed toward the Heavens, wondering where my little girl was, if she could see me, if I could connect with her, the cold snowflakes mixed with my hot tears.  

I smiled.  Snowflakes are like kisses from Heaven, I thought.  Delicate.  Gentle.  Sweet. Soft. Pure. Full of love, light, and fresh from the Heavens.  The freshly fallen snow was as cleansing as my tears were that night.  I've never quite looked at snow the same way again. Like most things in life, it's all about perspective. 

Today, while shoveling the nearly 30 inches of fluffy white snow, I allowed myself to fall into the snow, backward.  I sunk into the fluffy, white snow.  I gazed upward at the still falling snow, giggling.  I felt so safe and peaceful enveloped in the softness of the snow.  It was mesmerizing. It felt like... love.  I listened once again to the silence of the snowfall.  I smiled and made the deepest snow angel I've ever made.  

So next time you are lamenting the snow, get in touch with your inner child.  Go outside. Take a deep breath.  Savor it's beauty and perhaps, make a snowman or snow angel.  Gaze to the Heavens and accept those kisses from Heaven!  Open your heart to love from above.

Not only is snow cleansing for the mind, the air, and the soul, one cannot make snow angels with out all those kisses from Heaven!  What a perfect recipe.  Love from the heart and love from above, all wrapped up in purifying peace. 

The one pictured here is one of my finer snow angels, made a few years ago near Meghan's Angelversary.  It's made of kisses from Heaven.  It's full of love.
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On Being Strong:  What is Strength?

1/3/2015

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One of the words you often hear tossed around when it comes to coping with the death of a loved one is “strength.”  We think we have to be strong for others.  We are praised for our strength.  If I had a dollar for every time someone praised me for how strong I was or am, I’d be able to retire.  

Here’s the thing.  It’s not about being strong.  “Strong” is a term to describe physical strength.  We don’t define our ability to cope with loss by our physical strength. How much weight I can lift has nothing to do with my ability to cope with the death of my child.  

What people are referring to is emotional “strength.”  Unlike physical strength, this is not measurable.  It’s an opinion or a perception.  People often perceive someone as being emotionally strong when they are not dissolving into tears constantly, or, if they are seemingly able to go back to work, talk about their child’s death, or take an activist or advocacy role after their child has died.  

You've heard one should never assume, right?  While it’s true, some parents are able to do all of those things, it in no way means they are over their child’s death or even doing well processing it.  It may simply be a coping strategy, so they can get through the necessary tasks of daily living.  They may have simply buried all those emotions and focused their attention on other activities to avoid having to face the pain.  Or, maybe they break down into tears, get angry and collapse and pull the covers over their head when they get home, when no one can see the real them.  

People label others as “strong” emotionally because when they think about how they would likely feel if their child had died, they can’t fathom being able to function.   It’s definitely meant as a compliment and sometimes nice to hear, but it’s not what it’s really about and often not even true.

Unfortunately, when a bereaved parent, sibling, grandparent, or close friend or relative is perceived to be strong, there are few offers of help.  Few acknowledge or recognize the pain they are still in and the difficulty they might be having coping with the day to day, especially around special or important days in their lives.  People often stop asking how parents are doing when they are perceived as “strong” because everyone thinks they must be doing well, since they are so strong, or because they are not wearing their grief on their sleeve 24/7 anymore.  Often, it’s just not true.  Those parents may receive less support than the ones who are perceived as a mess emotionally.  Yet they need it just as much, if not more.

Please, don't assume just because a bereaved person appears to be "strong" or seems to be coping "well", that they are in any way over the pain of their loss.  They may be further along in their journey and better able to integrate their loss into their life, but they will never, ever, be over it.  They will never, ever forget.  They will always appreciate it when you remember their child, their loved one, and their pain of missing them.

My personal belief is that it’s not about strength at all. It’s about love.  

Let me say that again.  It’s not about being strong.  It’s about the depth of love we have for our children.  We don’t stop loving them just because they have died.  Their love for us was real and persists through their memory and the connection we’ll always have with them in our hearts. Everything I have done since Meghan died has been born of love.  The love I have for her.  The love she showered on me.  My love and caring for others, including those I don’t know, to the point that I don’t want any other parent to ever feel my pain.  Every word I've written, every word I've spoken, everything I've done with regard to Meghan, her death, and Meghan’s Hope is about love.  It’s how I continue to mother her.

It’s not about strength.  It’s about love.

Love is powerful.  Love is good.  Love will always prevail.  Love never, ever dies. We are not strong.  We are love.  


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New Year Resolutions for the Bereaved

12/30/2014

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The start of a new year tends to catalyze two activities in most people. One is an introspective review of the previous year.  A look back on what has transpired, both the good and the not so good.  A chance to reflect on what was learned and how you have grown and changed.  

The other is a resolution to change.  It's usually something common like to lose weight or exercise more.  Perhaps it's to take that vacation or get a new job.  For others, it may be to organize themselves better or to write that book they've always wanted to write.

For the bereaved, especially the newly bereaved, the dawning of a new year can be a trigger for your grief.  The last thing you may feel like doing is celebrating and welcoming the new year.  

If you lost your loved one in this past year, this will be the first "new year" without them.  It might be an entire year of "firsts" without your loved one in your life.  If your loss is less recent, it can still be a reminder of another year that has passed without your loved one present in your life.  Significant family events and even just the day to day where your loved one has been missed.  The start of the new year may be a marker in time of your loss.  Wherever your are in your journey, you are.  And it's perfectly okay.

While everyone will grieve differently, it's important to realize that feeling sad, angry, or simply missing your loved one with a heavy heart is normal, especially on trigger days like this.  It's also okay if you want to go out and celebrate the dawn of the new year, too.  

What I am proposing is this:  a new year resolution for the bereaved. Choose one thing that nurtures yourself and one thing that honors your loved one to do in the coming year. It can be for one day or it can be a new routine or a part of your every day. Perhaps you can resolve to do one, some, or all of these things, or, perhaps, something entirely different.  It's all about what feels right for you.
  1. Allow yourself to feel whatever you feel, whenever you feel it.  It can and probably will change from time to time, sometimes minute to minute.
  2. Give yourself permission to have fun, laugh, celebrate, and enjoy life.
  3. Be patient and gentle with yourself.  Grief is a lifelong journey.  Wherever you are on your path is where you are.  You can have both laughter and tears, sometimes at the same time!
  4. Choose one way to honor and celebrate your loved one(s) who has died this New Year's Eve.  Wear a photo button, light a candle at midnight for them, raise a glass in a toast to them and all they brought to your life, whatever resonates with you.
  5. Resolve to find ways to incorporate your loved one into your life this coming year.  Perhaps it's to celebrate their birthday in a special way, to wear a piece of jewelry of theirs or that reminds you of them, to make a quilt of their clothing to snuggle up with in the cold, or create a digital picture frame of your favorite photos.  There are so many things you could do. These can be therapeutic and healing activities for anyone recovering from loss. 
  6. Find a way to nurture yourself on a regular basis.  Taking a quiet bath, try sitting quietly or meditating, treat yourself to a massage, Reiki, or a spa treatment, try yoga or dancing, go for a walk outside, take some time for you. Self-nurturing is important to healing.

Wherever you are in your grief journey, I wish you a peaceful new year, full of love, light, and healing as you walk your path out of the darkness.  I'd love to hear what you plan to do to nurture yourself and honor your loved one in the coming year.

Peaceful New Year!




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Visitor from Heaven...

12/22/2014

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Grief keeping is an important part of coping with grief.  It can help your heart to heal. It can help make others around you aware that you are hurting and missing your loved one, even days, years, or decades later.  You will probably see a lot of grief keeping in the coming days.  It's a wonderful thing!

Because of the limitations of this blog editor (unable to post video), I have embedded a short video I wanted to post here, along with the blog post I wanted to place her in a post on my personal blog.  You can access it through this link http://lovelightlaughterandchocolate.blogspot.com/2014/12/visitor-from-heaven.html

I hope you find it helpful.  The song it is set to is beautiful.  It's called Visitor From Heaven, by Twila Paris.  The words speak to the essence of what a bereaved parent feels.  They are full of love and hope.  

Peace.
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