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A Birthday Lament

What We Ain’t Got by Jake Owens

I relate to this song – the lyrics – on so many levels. It’s Bethany’s Birthday. The singer, Jake Owens, is lamenting a lost girlfriend. Everyday I lament the children I’ve lost and Gracen’s degenerating health. How I long for what I once had! What I wouldn’t trade for the lives and health of my children! Cole, Bethany and Katie have moved on into their eternal futures, but I stagnate here filled with longing for what once was and what should have been. It’s true, “I wanted the world until my whole world stopped. . . ” It’s in those moments and the excruciating hours, days, weeks, months, and years when all of life is distilled down to the most important things – relationships and salvation of the soul. You don’t forget and you definitely don’t stop loving those who have moved on without you. 

No, you just desperately long for what you ain’t got!


Partial Lyrics below:

Third Verse
We all wish it didn’t hurt,
When you try your best and it doesn’t work,
And goodbye’s such a painful word,
We all wish it didn’t hurt.

Bridge
All I want is what I had,
I’d trade it all just to get her back,
She’s moving on, but I guess I’m not.
We all want what we ain’t got.

Ending
I wanted the world until my whole world stopped,
You know a love like that ain’t easily forgot.
I guess we all want what we ain’t got. 

 
Four years of longing . . . 

She should be 24. 

I had been married a year by that time. 

I think of all she’s missed out on in the last four years. Oh, I know that’s not technically true – as she lived every minute of her ordained days (Psalm 139:16). But my heart refuses to release what could have – what should have been – if we were not living in a fallen world. 

In the last four years I have prayed, thought, and felt these things:  

“How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long shall I take counsel in my soul, Having sorrow in my heart all the day? How long will my enemy be exalted over me?” ~ Psalm 13:1-2

“Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am in distress; My eye is wasted away from grief, my soul and my body also.” ~ Psalm 31:9

“Why did I ever come forth from the womb To look on trouble and sorrow, . . . ?” ~ Jeremiah 20:18

 
And I have wondered why I have suffered sorrow upon sorrow. Why the Lord would not raise my children up (which I think has to do with the fact that Christ is no longer on earth. He is not performing miracles to fulfill the prophecies in order to verify His deity. That has already been established). Still my heart’s desire was to hear Him say “Arise!”, or “She is not dead, but asleep!”  

“Now as He approached the gate of the city, a dead man was being carried out, the          only son of his mother, and she was a widow; and a sizeable crowd from the city was with her. When the Lord saw her, He felt compassion for her, and said to her, “Do not weep.” And He came up and touched the coffin; and the bearers came to a halt. And He said, “Young man, I say to you, arise!”” ~ Luke 7:12-14

“Now they were all weeping and lamenting for her; but He said, “Stop weeping, for she has not died, but is asleep.”” ~ Luke 8:52

“For indeed he [Epaphroditus – who labored with Paul for the gospel] was sick to the point of death, but God had mercy on him, and not on him only but also on me, so that I would not have sorrow upon sorrow.” ~ Philippians 2:27

 

But, alas, it was not to be. I must await God’s promise of redemption and reunion. I will mourn, wait, watch and endure for the joy set before me. And I will remember. . . 

“Bethany’s Song” written and performed by Emma Nilsson is a perfect way to remember and celebrate the woman Bethany was.

Bethany’s Song by Emma Nilsson

Complete Lyrics:  

She walked with a purpose,
strong head on her shoulders,
her laugh was infectious,
and those who know her know,
that she was fierce and fun combined.

She smiled as bright as she could allow,
She dreamed she loved she danced on clouds,
And those who know her know,
That she was walking sunshine.

Oh, Bethany,
It’s not how it’s supposed to be
But remembering you smiling, laughing, and oh so happy
Holds us in this tragedy.
Oh, Bethany,
We will love you for eternity.

She liked colors, especially in hair
She spoke her views without a care,
and to say she was bright
Wouldn’t quite justify her right.

And she found a love so strong,
Something so special when your young,
And the love is still alive
Through her spirit that flies.

Oh, Bethany
It’s not how it’s supposed to be
But remembering you smiling, laughing, and oh so happy
Holds us in this tragedy.
Oh, Bethany,
We will love you for eternity.

Oh, and it’s not fair,
Can’t be justified.
I could scream and shout
Cause this ain’t right.
But it wouldn’t be the light to shine,
On Bethany, 
Cause Bethany,

You walked with a purpose,
Strong head on your shoulders,
Your laugh was infectious,
And everyone who knows you knows this,
You deserved the best, 
Deserved happiness,
Which is what was there before this tragic death,
But you’ll always be, 
Our Bethany,
You’ll always be.

Oh, Bethany, 
You’ll always be.
We’ll always love you,
Always love you.

 

 
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Posted by on November 2, 2017 in Grief, Links, Music

 

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Tonight I Wanna Cry

Tonight I Wanna Cry, Keith Urban

Katie should be turning twenty this coming Thursday, October 19, 2017. I can’t even imagine the woman she would have grown into had she survived to see that day. 

I find myself so very sad – absolutely heartbroken that the days I could imagine a future for her are gone. 

This song is about a breakup – she left him – walked away. 

I know Katie didn’t walk away. . . but this sentiment still rings true in my heart, “The way that it was and could have been surrounds me” . . . 

Oh, how it hurts that what could have been will never be!

Lyrics

Alone in this house again tonight
I got the TV on, the sound turned down and a bottle of wine
There’s pictures of you and I on the walls around me
The way that it was and could have been surrounds me
I’ll never get over you walkin’ away

I’ve never been the kind to ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein’ strong meant never losin’ your self-control
But I’m just drunk enough to let go of my pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry

Would it help if I turned a sad song on
“All By Myself” would sure hit me hard now that you’re gone
Or maybe unfold some old yellow lost love letters
It’s gonna hurt bad before it gets better
But I’ll never get over you by hidin’ this way

I’ve never been the kind to ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein’ strong meant never losin’ your self-control
But I’m just drunk enough to let go of my pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry

I’ve never been the kind to ever let my feelings show
And I thought that bein’ strong meant never losin’ your self-control
But I’m just drunk enough to let go of my pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry


There’s no bottle of wine, I’m not drunk, and pride be damned, I just want to let go of all this pain, to let it fall like rain because all I want to do is cry. 

To cry out all the sadness and sorrow. . . 

all the regrets, longing and missed opportunities. . . 

 to release all those painful emotions like an exhaled breath . . . 

hoping that the next breath I draw will miraculously infuse my heart and mind with the peace that so often feels beyond my reach.

I just want to cry!

How I miss when we were us!

When Katie was mine to enjoy up close and personal.

The echoes of her laughter are fading. 

The feel of her hand in mine a distant memory. 

And silence reigns where chatter once filled every corner of my home.

I so much miss her presence. Her smile. Her – and who we were when she was here – when we were Us.


This is what the Lord says: “A sound was heard in Ramah. It was painful crying and much sadness. Rachel cries for her children. And she cannot be comforted, because her children are dead!” ~ Jeremiah 31:15 ICB

Like Rachel, there are days that I simply can’t be comforted. Days I refuse to be comforted because all but one of my children are dead! I could shroud their deaths in more positive language. I could say they are “living eternally” instead of using the harsh language of death. I could refer to the day of their deaths as their Heaven Date. But, I don’t want to use pretty words to disguise the painful reality that “they are no more”, as some Bible translations describe Rachel’s children. They are gone, not lost with the hope of being found and returned to me. They are dead and my heart wails out it’s despair.

Heaven is richer for Katie’s presence, but this world is far, far poorer in her absence. 

I can’t celebrate her presence in Heaven with any real sincerity because I am not yet a resident there. Instead, I struggle to find a way to celebrate what was, while living in this painful vacuum of her absence. 

It was never supposed to be like this and I desperately miss when she was mine!

Keith Urban & Miranda Lambert, When We Were Us

 

Partial Lyrics

God, I miss when you were mine

Back when that song was a song
I could sing along without thinkin bout you every time it came on
Every beat, every line, every word, every time
When a road was a road
I could roll on through without wishin that empty seat was you
Money was gas, dreams were dust
Love was fast and we were us

 
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Posted by on October 16, 2017 in Grief, Links, Music

 

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Is There Life Out There?

“I don’t need any more accidents in my life.” (From the video above).

That just resonates within.

I really don’t need any more accidents—any more tragedies in this life.

And the partial lyrics below resonate as well in the aftermath of death and this pilgrimage we are taking through degenerative disease.

IS THERE LIFE OUT THERE - Reba McEntire

". . . 
But now she's wonderin' 
What she's living for 
. . . 
She's dyin' to try something foolish 
Do something crazy 
Or just get away 
. . . 
There's a place in the sun that she's never been 
Where life is fair and time is a friend 
Would she do it the same as she did back then 
She looks out the window and wonders again 

Chorus 

Is there life out there 
So much she hasn't done 
Is there life beyond Her family and her home 
She's done what she should 
Should she do what she dares 
She doesn't want to leave 
She just wonders
if there's life out there

I’m still wondering what my purpose is.

And doing something foolish or crazy or getting away from all that’s gone before—all that’s yet to come? I can’t even imagine what that would feel like.

I would do the same as I did before, and I don’t want to leave.

I just wonder if there really is a place in the sun—if there is something more in THIS world—something that doesn’t hurt out there. . .

For me.

And I wonder if other bereaved parents, other special needs parents, want to know that too.

 
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Posted by on April 4, 2017 in Links, Music

 

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Birthday Reflections – Guilt & Shame

 

il_570xN.838650199_lubbToday is my one and only son’s birthday. If you read my Father’s Day post you know that he was, in the terminology of the latest trend, born still – a cord death. Cole did not die on the day of his birth. I always knew that. David and I were drawn to the hospital because I quit feeling him move. But even I didn’t originally know when he died.

I’m not sure how long after his death it was that I discovered exactly when he died, but it was an innocent comment made by my mother that truly rocked my world.

She was in my home and all she said was, “I remember you telling me that the baby was moving really funny.” Those words triggered that movie-like effect, you know the one where past events scroll by the screen at warp speed and a replay begins of that exact moment in the character’s past. And I was instantly transported back . . . There I stood in my parent’s living room in front of their green velvet love seat. It was about 5:30 p.m. on Thursday, June 18th. I can see it in my mind’s eye looking on as if I was standing mere feet away from my extremely pregnant self.

I’d driven there after work in order to bring my mom some fabric which she was to sew into a balloon shade for the baby room David and I had set up in our home. It was a simple blue and white pinstripe and matched the Paddington Bear pattern of the bedding we’d selected. And then I said it, “Mom, the baby’s moving really funny.” It echoes through my mind even 24 years later. My mother replied, “Why don’t you lay down and maybe it will stop in a moment.” Cringe worthy advice looking back, for indeed the strange movements I felt did indeed stop shortly thereafter. And only in hindsight, only when my Mother spoke those innocent words after my only child (at the time) was long buried, did I realize the significance of those words that began, “I remember you saying . . . ”

Unbeknownst to my Mother, she filled in the blanks and devastated me all with one simple sentence. It was at that very moment, now standing in my own living room in which I realized for the very first time that I not only knew exactly when my child died but that I did nothing – NOTHING! – NOT ONE DAMN THING! – to save him. It was in that instant that I could finally find words to describe the strange way my son was moving within my womb. Thrashing. That is the only word that accurately describes those strange, unnamed movements.

FullSizeRender (15)I knew with certainty then that I had felt my child dying; thrashing as the cord that was wrapped around his arm pulled tight around his throat and he fought life. And that devastating moment began the completely irrational guilt/shame cycle I struggled to overcome for years in spite of knowing full well from an intellectual standpoint that had I known what was happening, I would not have been able to save him. There was no way to get to the hospital, to have my son delivered, before his death. No possible way.

But guilt and shame are all too common experiences in the parent loss community. Far too common. We kick ourselves for what we perceive as poor choices in spite of the fact that there was no earthly way of knowing what was to come and therefore, intervening in the unacceptable destiny about to play out in our children’s lives. Instead, we beat ourselves up and ask ourselves, “What kind of parent/mother/father am I?” And the only possible internal answer is, of course, “A bad one”.

But we all need someone to blame, someone to be held accountable, and for many broken believers, the heart simply cannot handle even the thought that our child’s death may have been part of God’s plan – let alone His will. It is far easier to blame ourselves than to rock the very foundations upon which our belief in a loving God resides. Not that we are any more capable of preventing that either. When a large part of your world is destroyed the impact is insidiously complete as wave upon wave of grief batters the broken heart.

Just as few people knew that I felt my one and only son, my firstborn child, strangle to death within the ironically protective environment of my womb, few people realize that we debated the trip to Kansas City for Christmas the year my oldest and youngest daughters died.

Bethany, my oldest daughter, had so much going on in the days prior to her death.  Tons of angst over school and changes in living arrangements she wanted to make, finances, and Alex, her boyfriend’s uncertain return to UCA.  Her life was in complete turmoil and I was helpless to make it better for her. It seemed what might be best for Bethany would be for us to stay home in Bentonville that Christmas, but that was not what was best for the rest of the family and not best for O’rane (the international student spending the holiday with us). Still, I took her aside a day or two before we left for KC and asked her if she would prefer to stay home.  I would have chosen to remain in NW Arkansas if that would have made her more comfortable.  No one else would have been too keen on that plan, but I had every intention of honoring her wishes had she indicated that she would prefer to stay home.

What I wouldn’t give to have simply stayed home.

I’m considerably older and a bit wiser than I was 24 years ago, but those old demons of guilt and shame have still plagued my days in the aftermath of Bethany & Katie’s deaths. Despite that fact that I had no power whatsoever to prevent any of the tragic circumstances of my life the broken heart is laid bare and vulnerable to the fiery arrows Satan takes such delight in unloading upon the weak.

Maybe just revealing that truth will help another broken-hearted parent caught in the guilt and shame cycle put to rest the irrational personal judgments they have leveled against themselves or a spouse. Maybe it will enable them to see that what the scriptures say is true – that Satan is a thief and a liar bent on our destruction and there is no limit to the devices he will employ to do just that.

Maybe the disclosure of my illogical feelings will enable another parent to make peace with the equally truthful scriptural revelation that our days are numbered prior to our birth; it was never in our power to extend the lives of our children, regardless of the circumstances of their death. There are simply things in this life that are pre-ordained and while that can be a devastating truth it can also be a great comfort, because aside from parents who with knowledge took the lives of their own children; the vast majority of parents have consistently acted in the best interest of their children. And with grace, those whose actions result in godly conviction (i.e., not undeserved guilt) there is repentance, forgiveness, restoration and reconciliation through faith in Christ Jesus.

The road is long and dark – but grief embraced, worked through (not short-circuited by positive thinking) – can find health and healing.

Oh, you never forget. And there never comes a day when the death of your child is justified by spiritual growth or ministry. Those things are just the result of God taking a bad thing and performing a work of redemption not somehow transforming that bad thing into a good thing. God brings good from Satan’s evil actions and intentions, He doesn’t justify Satan’s evil actions and intentions. That’s a very fine distinction, but an extremely important one nonetheless.  All things work together for good, not all things are made good.

So while this day is filled with bitter longing and remembrance it is also a day in which I know I can trust that this is not the end of the story. This Kenny Chesney song, “Who You’d Be Today” is reflective of that intense longing and bitter disappointment I feel. But it also reminds me that one day I will know who each of my children would have been because I will see them again. I will know them and they will know me in perfection, the way we were created to be before the fall of man. We will be like Him – the one who sacrificed His life and endured for the joy set before Him.

“Who You’d Be Today” by Kenny Chesney

And the lyrics to “Held” by Natalie Grant remind me of the things God did not promise me — but also that He has promised to hold me through all the bitterness this life brings. “Can I not wait, for one hour (albeit a very long hour), watching for my Savior? (Paraphrased)”  Partial lyrics can be found beneath the youtube link.

“Held” by Natalie Grant

Partial lyrics, “Held” by Natalie Grant:

IMG_1111“This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held

If hope if born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our savior”

 
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Posted by on June 21, 2016 in Grief, Music

 

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Fixing Me – flannelgraphs

 

This post from Flannelgraphs reminds me of an old Roberta Flack song, “Killing Me Softly with His Song”. Below are the lyrics and a link to the original soundtrack from 1973 on YouTube.

“Killing Me Softly With His Song”

[Chorus]

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

I heard he sang a good song
I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him
To listen for a while
And there he was this young boy
A stranger to my eyes

[Chorus]

I felt all flushed with fever
Embarassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on

[Chorus]

He sang as if he knew me
In all my dark despair
And then he looked right through me
As if I wasn’t there
And he just kept on singing
Singing clear and strong

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

 

Don’t skip the video — the lyrics alone don’t do the song justice and Ms. Flack sings it so beautifully!  “Killing Me Softly With His Song”.

Not all the lyrics express my feelings, but the idea that a stranger could so clearly speak the heart of another certainly fits.

Caitlin, the author of “Fixing Me”, shares her heart, story and faith with humility and eloquence. A teaser for the article follows.  I hope you will take the time to click on the link highlighted in red below!

fixing-me-living-by-faith-not-sight

 

 

“What do you do when you’re angry with the Creator of the universe and the Lover of your soul?  When you’re incredibly disappointed in your Redeemer and feel as though He can’t be trusted with the things, the people you treasure most?  What does a professing believer do with that depth of confusion and spiritual chaos? . . .”

Source: Fixing Me – flannelgraphs – Dealing with faith and finding healing in the depths of loss.

 
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Posted by on March 18, 2016 in Faith, Grief, Links, Music

 

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Riser

FEAR

I’m not always a riser, but that’s who I want to be for Gracen and David and I’m glad God is the ultimate Riser for me.

Check out these lyrics – not sure they are completely correct (picked them up off the internet and added my own corrections) so forgive me if I messed them up. I think they are pretty close anyway and don’t they reflect what we all aspire to be for those we love in their darkest hours? Beautiful song!


 

Dierks Bentley – Riser

Lay your pretty head down on my shoulder
You don’t have to worry anymore
This old world is cold and getting colder
And I know how to lock and bolt the door
I’m strong enough to hold you through the winter
Mean enough to stare your demons down
The hard times put the shine into the diamond
I won’t let that keep us in the ground
I’m a riser
I’m a get up off the ground, don’t run and hider
Pushin’ comes to shovin’
Hey I’m a fighter
When darkness comes to town, I’m a lighter
A get out aliver, out of the fire
Survivor
If you we ain’t got no money I can make it
I ain’t afraid of working to the bone
When I don’t know what I’m doin’ and I can’t fake it
I’ll pray till Jesus rolls away the stone
And I’m a riser
I’m a get up off the ground, don’t run and hider
Pushin’ comes to shovin’
Hey I’m a fighter
When darkness comes to town, I’m a lighter
A get out aliver, of the fire, survivor
I’m a trier
I’m a get down low so I can lift you higher
An army couldn’t keep down my desire
Yeah
I’m a riser
I’m a get up off the ground, don’t run and hider
Hey pushin’ comes to shovin’
Baby I’m a fighter
When darkness comes to town, I’m a lighter
A get out aliver, of the fire, survivor
I’m a riser
I’m a riser
I’m a riser

 
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Posted by on March 17, 2016 in Adversity, Links, Music

 

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My Consolation in Sorrow

iStock_000019848651_Medium-600x400When you lose a loved one to death, you quickly recognize that a great number of people sympathize, even empathize (vicariously experience) with your loss. Close friends and family grieve with you because they lost a friend, a brother, a parent or grandchild too. Some simply grieve for you because they love you but were not personally connected to the one who died. But very few people actually grieve in like manner with you. Even parents experience grief in unique ways. Men often process their sorrow and loss far differently than women do.

I have been blessed by numerous friends and family who have grieved both with me and for me, but none grieved as I. No one grieved as “the mother” with the obliterated heart. None but one. None but one. And I count that one woman as one of my greatest blessings in the midst of all this heartache.

10492559_10152550256319610_3231914152675065142_nHer name is Teresa and I never would have guessed just what she would come to mean to me. (Pictured left, Teresa and her husband, Jakob).

Frankly, I didn’t know Teresa well when my daughters died. I knew who she was, we’d spoken briefly, she is the mother of the young man my oldest daughter had been dating for two and a half years.

 

Teresa, her sister and her son, Alex, stepped in and met practical needs for us following the accident that took Bethany and Katie’s lives. David and I were tied up at the hospital – not wanting to leave the side of our surviving daughter. Teresa and Alex took on the arduous task of purchasing burial garb for both girls. I never saw what they choose but was told Alex had insisted on a scarf in Bethany’s favorite color, pink. They also retrieved all Bethany’s worldly goods from her campus apartment and delivered them to our home. But none of those things explains why Teresa is so special to me.

10525854_805830962812159_8008800412709942090_nAt the time of Bethany’s death, Teresa and her family were living in Sweden. The family moved back to the states approximately six months after the funeral. Her family met us for lunch shortly after their move. I had no idea what to expect and I was a bit nervous. They had been so kind, so generous. Their daughter Emma had written and performed a beautiful song for which her father, Jakob, created a photo montage (Bethany’s Song). Emma also painted a treasured picture of Bethany that hangs in our living room. But in spite of all that, I didn’t know them well but I was aware that they didn’t share the faith that had become so interwoven into my very being. I was afraid my faith would be offensive to them and maybe even afraid that they could find the chink in my spiritual armor and open Pandora’s box in the midst of my suffering. I knew I was vulnerable.

It was at that lunch in an extremely crowded Freddie’s that I discover the blessing that is Teresa. She is God’s gift to me from an entirely selfish perspective. Let me say that Teresa is a wonderful woman in an absolutely average way; the way most women are. They work jobs, raise children, care for their homes and support their husbands.  They don’t live in the spotlight but they are the glue, the strength and the heart of their homes. They are good friends, and contribute to their communities, largely behind the scenes. They are the heart and soul of this world far more than any politician, famous actor, musician or celebrity. Teresa is just such a woman – the world is filled with such talented, everyday but far from average women who make a difference in their small corner of the world. But what makes Teresa so special to me had little to do with any of those things either.

What I discovered about Teresa in that crowded fast food restaurant, what makes her so special to me, what sets her apart as a gift that could have only come from God is only one thing. Teresa loved Bethany with a mother’s heart. Not like a mother, but as if she had adopted Bethany as her own child. Teresa expressed grief that day that mirrored my own. I have not encountered one other person whose feelings and grief over Bethany’s or Katie’s deaths so closely reflected my own.

In the months that followed, Teresa and I got together many times. Over and over she expressed feelings so very similar to mine. The last time we got together, I told her that I find myself embarrassed because people always ask me how Gracen is doing. They always tell me that they are praying for her. And while I am so thankful for that, there is this quiet voice within that wonders if no one cares about how I’m doing, that wonders if anyone is praying for me. I feel selfish. And I feel as if everyone expects me, or David and I, to be finished grieving – to be moving forward.

Teresa confided in me that day that her friends and family also ask how her son is doing; not how she is doing. She too feels as if people expect her to be beyond her grief. What she’s really communicating is that others knew and expected Alex to grieve deeply, but didn’t expect Teresa to grieve as deeply as her son. They understood Alex’s close relationship with Bethany – his grief was expected, but they didn’t realize the depth of the relationship Teresa had developed with Bethany as well. Her grief was unexpected because her love for Bethany was outside the norm of parent relationships with their children’s girlfriends or boyfriends.

In part, Teresa is a treasure because she validates the progression (or lack thereof) of my grief journey. She makes me feel normal in the midst of my personal nightmare. But most of all Teresa is a blessing because her grief is mine. She loved my daughter to such a degree that her heart is as broken as mine.

Bethany was a fortunate beneficiary of Teresa’s love in life and I’ve been the beneficiary of her grief. I’ve benefited by the knowledge of how deeply Teresa loved my girl – I’ve benefited by the gift of someone to share the depths of my loss – to know I’m not alone in my deepest sorrow. I’ve benefited by the friendship she’s bestowed upon me.

While I would never wish my pain and sorrow on another, I can’t begin to describe the ways in which Teresa’s grief has been a consolation for me. There are so many ways in which words meant to comfort unintentionally diminish the value of the loved one lost. Teresa, added value to Bethany’s life and memory. That is why Teresa is such a special blessing to my aching heart.

Thank you, Teresa, for loving my girl and for freely sharing your grief with me.

 
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Posted by on March 13, 2016 in Grief, Links, Music

 

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