Have you ever seen those Magic Eye 3D pictures that look random at first glance but then reveal a hidden picture? Maybe there’s a group of you looking and someone says, “Wow – look at that! It’s a …
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Source: How well did I understand grace before I understood grace? – Escape to Reality
Why a glimpse behind the curtain to the deeply personal and hidden grief of a bereaved parent? Not to inspire your pity; of that I can assure you. Instead to inspire others to look beyond the surface of a grieving friend or family member. To consider how families are affected by loss, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually, as well as the unique family dynamics that result; which might help you comfort, support and encourage them. The bereaved desperately want to be understood, to have their feelings validated, to break free of the isolation, to mourn unrushed, to have another share their sorrow (not attempt to fix it). This post was written months ago and is not reflective of my current state of mind.
Two Years Later . . .
This morning, the 2nd anniversary of Bethany & Katie’s deaths, I woke up in my in-laws guest room and told the Lord,
I miss my babies. I miss the life I used to live. I miss the sweet ignorance of not knowing what disease plagued Gracen and Katie’s bodies, the unappreciated bliss of an unknown prognosis. I miss my failure to understand that You, Lord, promised to walk through this life of trials with me, never once leaving me, but not to protect me from the free will of others and not to make life pain free.
I miss waking up with purpose. Waking to enjoy the the birds singing and the sun shining.
I miss hugs and smiles and laughter — the sounds of life in my home. I miss making cookies just to hear Katie’s whoop of joy. Watching David and Bethany laugh over movie lines that cause me to roll my eyes. Seeing Katie sit at Bethany’s feet joyful that her big sister was home from college.
I miss arguments and bad attitudes and snark and sass. I miss seeing Katie curled up in David’s lap to watch a movie, David teasing Bethany and listening to him negotiate with Katie for hugs and kisses.
I miss sibling rivalry and laughter and two ganging up on one. I miss hearing how Gracen stood up for Katie at school, how Bethany watched out for Gracen and coming home to find all three watching music videos loud enough for the neighbors on either side to enjoy (?) too.
I miss praying for Bethany and Katie. I miss inviting You, Lord, close instead of desperately clinging to You. I miss what was and will never be again. I miss the life I’d planned to have. I miss ignorance and curse knowledge and I hate the last images of Bethany and Katie seared upon my mind, taunting me with their stillness, eyes once full of life and love vacant and unseeing.
I miss the me I used to be; the me I wish I could be again. I miss the me who did not live with the ever present ache of loss. The me who did not have to fortify herself for a simple trip to church, the me who did not have to plan in advance answers to everyday questions to guard my heart, my privacy and to avoid making others uncomfortable. I miss genuine smiles. I miss the ease with which I faced a day and the dark of night; of restful sleep, a focused mind, and simple motivation. I miss anticipation and excitement.
I miss having all the bar stools at my counter filled. . . I just miss so much — it all haunts me while I’m simultaneously thankful for Gracen and David. Joy and sorrow side by side — both aware of all I have and all I’ve lost in every moment of every day. One word defines my life — bittersweet.
And as I rolled over and curled in upon myself, I asked the Lord to help me get up and get going, to be a good house guest, to ignore the onslaught of sorrow, deep and numbing. To be able to be present instead of withdrawing from everyday conversation in desperate need for time alone — for the distraction fiction provides.
I finally rose at 10:30, hours later than I usually rise when we visit Kansas City. And when I entered living room Sunny greeted me with a warm, “Good morning sleepyhead”, and Donna quietly went about frying an egg for me, then sat down at the table to visit with me while I ate. No frustration, just uncomplicated acceptance and the kindness they have always shown me over the last twenty-eight years. I found my heart full to the brim with both gratitude and sorrow — both of which my wonderful in-laws share with me. I am not alone in my loss, in my sorrow, and in gratitude for what remains.
Empathy (shared sorrow) is so much more comforting than the fellowship of sorrow and pity. Pity pops in to express sympathy and promptly exits. Pity is love without commitment. It lures and deceives the grief-stricken with a promise of support only to silently slip away. Shared sorrow blesses the grieving by claiming a seat at the table of sorrow and dining on the bitter taste of disappointment and despair; drinking from the cup of agony before pulling out the dessert plates and loading them up with the sweet savor of united hearts and minds. Shared sorrow is committed love.
Helping the Bereaved Bear their Burdens
1. People outside the immediate circle of loss, tend to view the death of a loved one from a broad, general perspective. The bereaved grieve in fine detail. Acknowledging specific losses, unfinished plans, a lost legacy and the empty seat at the dinner table communicates to the bereaved that you care about the depths of their loss.
2. Speak the loved one’s name. When a baby is stillborn or dies shortly after birth the family is left with a void they are unable to fill with memories of their child. Using their child’s name, asking about the infant’s birth weight, length and hair color affirm the child’s worth. Avoidance equals isolation.
3. Speak the loved one’s name-regardless of their age at the time of death. As time goes on, the name of a loved one is spoken less and less frequently. The bereaved want their loved ones remembered. Mentioning their name, telling a family member you thought of their loved one and you miss them is a great blessing. Speak about their loved one in a positive way, don’t just say how sorry you are for their loss.
4. Many bereaved parents feel as if others treat them as if they are cursed following the death of a child. Avoiding bereaved parents because you are unsure what to say or do can frequently be perceived in unintended ways. So, avoidance is not the answer. Call or visit and simply say, “I have no words.” “I don’t know how to help, but I want to be there for you. Tell me what you need to hear from me.”, and if you love the bereaved person keep trying to reach out, but don’t make them responsible for making you feel comfortable in their presence.
5. Don’t expect the bereaved to step back into ministry roles and other normal activities. Some will return quickly, some will take six months or a year. Some will never return to that specific ministry or activity. Be sensitive. Churches are often in need of members to serve, but be careful not to push.
6. Never compare the loss of a loved one to the death of a pet (it’s more common than you think). The loss of a child and a spouse are the most devastating losses the bereaved endure. Don’t tell the grief-stricken that you understand how they feel because you lost a uncle, grandparent or parent. The level of intimacy in the severed relationship determines the depth of grief experienced.
7. When a parent loses a child, never say, “Well at least you have two more.” or “Be thankful for the ones you still have.” The death of one child doesn’t negate the parent’s love for the rest of their children. Grief and gratitude can and do co-exist. And the birth of subsequent children do not replace the child that died.
8. Don’t be offended if the bereaved don’t personally call you to notify you of the death. It is not at all unusual to for the bereaved to be too emotionally overwrought to call even their closest friends and family members. It’s is however, very common to contact one family member and ask them to contact the rest of the family. It’s not a slight. Some are busy at hospitals, others are in shock, and some just can’t speak.
9. Don’t ask for details especially in the case of suicide, murder, or accidents. Those who need to will share that information with someone they are close to. Others do not want to remember their loved one that way and may have been traumatized by things they’ve seen and experienced. Rehearsing it is retraumatizing and sometimes leaves the bereaved feeling as if you care more about the gory details than you do about them.
10. If you have pictures of the deceased, email copies or get prints made and bring them to the family. Every picture is a coveted treasure.
Why a glimpse behind the curtain to the deeply personal and hidden grief of a bereaved parent? Not to inspire your pity; of that, I can assure you. Instead to inspire others to look beyond the surface of a grieving friend or family member. To consider how families are affected by a loss, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually, as well as the unique family dynamics that result; which might help you comfort, support and encourage them. The bereaved desperately want to be understood, to have their feelings validated, to break free of the isolation, to mourn unrushed, to have another share their sorrow (not attempt to fix it). This post was written months ago and is not reflective of my current state of mind.
I Can’t Do This Anymore!
There are days and moments and very long nights when I think, I can’t do this anymore. Come to find out, that simple thought is a trigger for tears.
Intellectually, I know I can. Physically, I know I can. Emotionally, well there’s where the breakdown happens.
I don’t know if my impending empty nest is permanent or temporary. I know who I am for the next three months but not who I will be after that. I’m really afraid of that answer.
Emotionally I am weak, very weak. Within the borders of my emotions I fear failure — to prepare Gracen for what’s ahead for her physically — to be there for her in an effective way — to watch her experience the devastation wrecked by progressive disease — to experience it for myself alongside her — to watch David experiencing it alongside her, alongside me. To see the toll it takes on each one of us individually as we somehow 
continue to put on a brave face and hide the true depths of the pain and sorrow from each other so as not to increase their individual burden in this bizarrely intertwined protection dance we unconsciously perform. And as all this plays out within our home and personal relationships, the current culture demands that we have a positive attitude and recognize our blessings. It’s exhausting. It’s overwhelming. It’s frustrating. It’s impossible.
Moments such as this one, Progressive Disease – A Moment of Triumph, are rare and bittersweet. (At the beginning of the clip, keep your eyes on the right side of the screen so you don’t miss Gracen’s appearance.)
“Don’t be afraid — trust God”, we are told in the midst of situations where there are very real things to fear. Sorry, those commands, biblical or not, are not helpful. I’m not saying they are wrong, just that they aren’t comforting and encouraging. It’s almost impossible to talk yourself out of fear — especially after your worst fear has already been realized. Those words, “Don’t be afraid — trust God”, heap indictment of failure on already emotionally overburdened believers who interpret those words as an accusation — “You aren’t trusting God”, instead of as the encouragement they are intended to be. At the same time, the searing pain within testifies to the truth that what we are trusting God for is eternal in nature. We are terrorized by the knowledge that our desires, for ourselves and those we hold dear in this temporary world, play second fiddle to God’s purposes. This, of course, I can attest to from all too much personal experience. God’s will serves our ultimate eternal good but the rub is that we reside in the here and now. And while from an eternal perspective our lives are no longer than a blip on a radar screen, in the here and now that blip lasts ten, twenty even thirty years or more. Our afflictions are light and momentary from an eternal perspective but they don’t feel that way in the day to day.
Yes, I need to cultivate an eternal perspective, lay up eternal treasures, yadda, yadda, yadda. But frankly, there are days, moments and very long nights during which I’m too emotionally frightened and exhausted to exercise my spiritual muscles.
Helping the Bereaved Bear their Burdens
1. Pray that the bereaved will put on the full armor of God. Their faith is under attack and they are exhausted and deeply vulnerable.
2. Avoid the use of platitudes and trite phrases. They serve to frustrate and unconsciously communicate unintended messages. (i.e., faith and trust in God mean things hurt less, our hope for eternity exchanges grief for joy, joy and happiness are the same thing, the salvation of the lost justifies the death of a loved one).
3. Be extremely careful in the use of Romans 8:28, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.” (KJV) There are a time and place for every season under heaven. There are a time and place for this verse. I personally think it’s more harmful than helpful in the face of raw grief and more appropriate a year or two down the road when the bereaved can look back and hopefully recognize the fulfillment of this promise.
4. Be cognizant of the fact that believing God has filtered everything through His hands before allowing it to happen can lead a believer to blame God for the tragedies that befall them. In truth, spiritual warfare, an individual’s exercise of free will or the fall of man that affected all of nature are responsible for the death of their loved one. The fact that God allows bad things to happen to His children is not the same as causing bad things to happen. For all we know, Satan was tempting while God was pleading when another’s actions lead to the death of a loved one. “For ours is not a conflict with mere flesh and blood, but with the despotisms, the empires, the forces that control and govern this dark world–the spiritual hosts of evil arrayed against us in the heavenly warfare.” (Ephesians 6:12 ~ Weymouth New Testament).
5. Validate feelings. A grieving father who feels like beating the crap out of the person responsible for their child’s death is normal. It’s okay; it’s helpful actually to say, “I’d feel the same way if I were you.” Validating feelings in no way condones sinful actions. Feel free to tack on, “You’re not planning to act on that, are you?”, if in doubt.
6. Do NOT correct the emotions of the bereaved. Emotions are not right or wrong; they were designed by God and serve a purpose. A fellow 
mourning mother recently told me, “Emotions are for emoting.” How an individual responds to their emotions can be right or wrong but never simply expressing them. Do NOT tell the grief-stricken that they can’t or shouldn’t feel any given way or that their feelings are sinful!
7. Affirm the bereaved’s ability to continue on. Be there for them through cards, text messages, phone calls and lunch or dinner dates. Don’t take it personally if your call and invitations go unanswered. Simply try again another time.
8. Before you offer any advice, imagine yourself in that individual’s shoes; then personalize the advice. You are now the parent whose child just committed suicide. Consider how you might feel should someone tell you to count it all joy, or that God is good all the time, etc., before you offer any advice to the bereaved. Perspective changes when things get personal.
9. It is indeed rare for a bereaved person to continue in deep grief for an extended period of time (more than two years). There are always a few who never recover, however, Christians need to trust that God will heal the hearts of the bereaved as His word promises, in His time. There is a time to mourn and a time to dance (Ecclesiastes 3:4b KJV). When you encourage a fellow believer to move on, choose joy and be thankful for what they still have, you are, in effect, expressing that you yourself don’t trust God to heal their grief, but instead believe that the grief-stricken Christian must work to heal themselves.
I too see and appreciate the tender mercies yet have not made peace with what might lie ahead as we live with ARSACS, a different form of Muscular Dystrophy than Mitchell’s family endured.
I am not simply grieving what has been lost already, but what is yet to come. Maybe, this video will help others to understand why I am so resistant to moving forward. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that everyday following December 26, 2013, has been and will be the best of times for our family, in spite of what physical skill may be surrendered to ARSACS on any given day.
Please, take a minute and watch this short video by clicking on the link below highlighted in red.
WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT, AS THEY SURELY WILL
So, I try to live in the present. Sometimes life demands that I look further down the road, and sometimes I’m unable to prevent my mind from floating forward to the new eventualities, but I desperately try to control my thoughts, to avoid “kicking at the pricks” as Christ informed Paul he was doing on the road to Damascus.
Please try to understand that my hope lies in eternal things and avoid trying to help me have hope for things of this world. I’m not trying to be negative, I’m just grieving what’s been lost while simultaneously grieving what’s yet to come. It’s known as Anticipatory Grief.
I know there are not a lot of people who have walked in my shoes and have no idea what it’s like to live in a continuous grief cycle and therefore, don’t have any concept of how I think. I know that experience is the most effective way to develop empathy but before you try to remind me of my blessings please imagine living with my everyday reality.
I didn’t lose a son and two daughters and begin picking up the pieces to move into a hopeful future. I live with the knowledge that I will always be picking up broken pieces and there is no way to repair the pieces that have been falling since MD entered our lives.
Happiness may be fleeting and driven by circumstances, but joy and happiness are not equivalent. Joy is the light of the Holy Spirit’s indwelling. Unless we are consciously trying to hide it, joy seeps to the surface. It’s intangible – a silent, more subtle and substantial quality than happiness which flaunts it’s presence in spontaneous and short-lived smiles, laughter and excitement. Joy lingers, in fact it resides, within even the most wounded heart because it is the fruit of the Spirit.
Do not jump to the conclusion that families who cope with special needs, life-threatening or progressive disease live without joy and are unaware of their blessings. You might be surprised to hear them voice their deep gratitude over the smallest of accomplishments and simplest of kindnesses.
Living with great needs has a way of opening your eyes to the smallest of blessings, but it doesn’t anesthetize the painful realities of life. It’s like a downpour abating just long enough to load your daughter into the car and her wheelchair into the trunk. You are grateful, thrilled even, that you aren’t soaking wet even knowing you will still have to place the daughter of your heart back into that wheelchair when you arrive at your destination. You also know the rain might not abate when you arrive and you may still end up soaking wet. In spite of that you are still thankful that you stayed dry for the time being.
I want others to understand that none of this is easy, there are no simple answers, and I will not always be able to tie up my messy life and emotions with a Biblical bow that makes everyone, myself included, feel better.
If you haven’t already; watch the video, read Mitchell’s father’s Facebook posts. You will find a godly man who, two plus years later continues to deal with sorrow. He’s also aware there will be more darkness to navigate down the road. He ties things up with a Biblical bow better than I do; so you will appreciate his lessons and feel comfortable hearing them too. He has much of worth to share.
(Facebook Post 6/21/15)
For David on yet another Father’s Day filled with joy and longing. You are an awesome Dad! Happy Birthday to Cole who has never been and will never be forgotten – you are loved and missed. We are looking forward with great anticipation to the day the Lord and your sisters will introduce us to our son. And for the many fathers out there who experience the repeated and painful losses of anticipated moments of fatherhood – who often stand on the sidelines celebrating lost moments with joy, a touch of sorrow and a surprising lack of bitterness as friends, family and strangers enjoy them firsthand. You are all a unique kind of brave.
http://stillstandingmag.com/2015/06/losses-fathers-day/
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