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Capture Your Grief – 2016 – Day #24

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Consciously Becoming

No one can deny when you bury a child your life will forever be split.  There will always be a “before loss” you and an “after loss” you.  I often hear others talk about their old life and their “new normal”.  While that is true, I prefer not to call my after loss life a “new normal”.

There is no normal path in grief. We each take steps differently. We find some paths better than others.  When you are in your deepest grief, the words “new normal” seem to imply this terrible state you are currently in.  I found myself trying to find a better way to describe the very harsh divide.  We simply call our split the “before Clara died” and “after Clara died”.  Both contain good and bad but they are just plain different.

I must admit, I sometimes struggle to remember the “before Clara” me.  It feels so far in the past and today I am nowhere near the woman I was then.  I know there was a beautiful, strong woman that blazed a path through the world before Clara. Today I still have some of those same traits but I am changed.  I see much beauty in that change.  I think that was the hardest part of the “after Clara died” timeframe.  It can be hard to accept that there were good things that came out of the loss of Clara.  My soul has been made more beautiful.

Today I chose an image of these two lovely pieces of china from our wedding.  Here is the deal.  I was so busy with life that I didn’t open our boxes of china until early this summer.  When I opened the package I got quite a shock.  One box had 2 different styles.  I called to request an exchange only to find out that they won’t do that 8 years later.  It took me some time to realized that this just goes right along with our story. Gone is the plan of having at least one set of matching dishes.  Today I look forward to a treasured wedding story we will share with the kids.

Life situations can’t always be let go as easily as my dish problem. Some days I wish I could go back to things I loved about the old me.  It was a much more simple life.  Instead, I try to focus on the future and see the beauty that is ahead.  I want to embrace the new things I have found in my grief to help others.  I enjoy the writing and cakes and the special heart skills I didn’t know were hidden in me before Clara died.  It is in letting go of the life we planned (and the anger of losing it), that we can embrace the future and see the good changes in ourselves.

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Capture Your Grief – 2016 – Day #16

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Full Moon Retreat

It is easy to be the sun that brightens someone’s day but sometimes what a griever really needs is a moon in their darkest hour. It is easy to get lost in the sea of darkness. Trusting you will make it through feels impossible. As the moon grows, so does our ability to see the path. It isn’t easy to trudge through what is in front of us but the moon reminds you that know you are not alone in your journey.  Eventually the sun begins to shine in the horizon and the moon begins to fade.  It doesn’t mean the moon is gone forever.  Once in a while it hangs in the horizon. A simple reminder that even though you have made it through the hardest part, it is still there whenever the darkness returns.

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #11

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Light in the Woods

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My life in the woods was Bri.  We received a care package from Lach’s Legacy soon after Clara’s passing.  That year she held a the first annual Run for Their Live’s run.  Started in memory of her son Lachlan, she opened the door for families to connect and remember each others children lost too soon to SIDS.  That first year the run happened just a few short weeks after Clara’s loss.   It was during that run that I realized our children were lost on the same May 12th day a single year apart.  I felt so connected.  In particular, I felt connected to a family member of hers who began running along side me around mile 1.  He asked me questions about Clara.  He encouraged me to keep running even though I was so tired.  I literally got off the couch and ran a 5K that day.   Together we finished together in around the 28 minute mark.  His comfort and encouragement became the second light along my path.

Grief doesn’t have a finish line like the race.  I often remember the man who encouraged me to keep going.  Not only did it give me strength and courage that day, it gave me that through my loss.  I remember the first time I had to call another mom and talk to her about the loss of her sweet Paxton.  It was this mans words that helped me.  It was a prayer to for God’s wisdom that gave me the right words to give from my heart.  It was because of Bri that these lights came into my life.

Today social media makes it so easy to connect with others along our journey.  Sometimes we seek out those lights, other times they seek us out, once in a while we are connected by those around us who see a positive connection.  Connecting grieving friends can be a positive way for someone who is outside the infant loss community to help their friend or loved one.

Grief doesn’t come to each of us in the same way.  There was a time when Chris and I were not in the same place and my needs couldn’t be met by him. It was through social media that I met another light in my journey.  It was Sara’s light that kept mine lit through some pretty rough patches.  Her little Eli was born just a day after Clara.  Together we have shared many words of frustration, comfort, and friendship. We experienced another pregnancy together and shared our fears and comforts.  She is one of the lights whom I have never met but wish I could.

Some of these lights are there forever on our journey. Others for just a few steps.  Sometimes we simply watch the light, feeling it’s warmth.  It fills us in the way we need.  Other times we reach for the light.  Communicating with that person.  Once in a while we get to meet that person.  We embrace.  It is an amazing feeling when we feel that light that has gotten us through our woods.

Don’t wait for other people to be loving, friendly, giving, forgiving, or compassionate… lead the way.  You never know who you will touch along the way.  Be a light in the woods.

Praise be to the God,
 who comforts us in all our troubles,
so that we can comfort those in any trouble
with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #4

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Light and Dark

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I chose to capture my light and dark image through a tunnel at the playground.  I found it fitting since Clara would be almost 7 she would likely be spending lots of time at one.  Seeing little girls climbing through the tunnels reminds me of my own crawling through my grief.  To this day dark tunnels are something I fear.  It isn’t until I can see light that I am able to feel my fears subside but just a little bit. I will skip those tunnels whenever possible.

As much as we wish for only light, when the light is gone there is only darkness.  I feel like there really isn’t a darkness but rather an absence of light.  Missing the light can leave us stumpling and falling.  We struggle for breath and balance.  We live in fear of the lack of light.

In grief we sometimes only see our lost child as the light.  We don’t know how we will ever see light again.  We stumble along our journey through grief.  We fall and fear and get stuck sometimes.  We wonder if only…  Is this normal?  How will I do this?  And in that darkness we find these tiny dots of light.

For so many of us we are attracted to the light.  We know we miss the light.  For some of us the light is a companion or a friendship.  It can be a kind word or an understanding heart.  For some it is faith and hope.  In some instances it is another child on the way.  These flickers of light only get stronger as we journey toward them.  Some of those lights last forever and some of them carry us to the next waiting light.

In my journey my light began when I started focusing on finding good in every day.  My light started small.  I was thankful for getting out of bed, for eating, for hugs.  Eventually I was thankful for the good memories, Clara’s life, and the people I met along my journey.

I was also one of those few who soon had a child on the way.  That light brought it’s own darkness through fears.  Each step of the way there were tiny flickers of hope that grew.  They are what gets us through each day.

It was through these shining rays that I realized how I felt was similar to others.  It turned on more lights until I realized I was holding the light in my hands again.  I can’t imagine my life without those people who were there for me.  I can only imagine I might still be stumbling in the dark, searching for hope and comfort.

In grief the lack of light can consume us.  We can easily drown in the depths of darkness if we let  it.  It is when we make the choice to walk toward the light that we find and experience hope and comfort.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).
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