When the Pain of Loss is Too Much, Coping After a Deceased Parent, Guest Writer: Danielle Roose

I was 13 years old when my mother became sick and it was only a three month long battle of ovarian cancer that took her life. I saw the sunken skin, rotting teeth, the coma, etc. I was 13 and I saw it all. As a 13 year old, I still needed her...heck, I'm 23 and I still need her. I still want her and I have had to learn how to keep living life when she lost her life. I spent most of my teenage years engulfed in getting high off of cough syrup, drinking alcohol, and going through in patient mental institutions just to TRY not to feel the motherless life that I was now being asked to live...by who...God? Because I sure didn't ask for it. How could he do this to my family? How could God do this to a 13, 15, and 20 year old with an alcoholic father? DOESN'T HE KNOW WHAT THIS WOULD DO TO US? He did. 

 At first it tore us apart. I grieved aggressively through substance abuse and mental implications. While my older sister grieved a little quieter and my father drank himself to jail, anger fits, and manipulation time and time again. But God knew. 

 Fast forward seven years and my sisters are my best friends in this life. At this time, I have become an adult who identifies with substance abuse issues BUT does not act on this as much as fantasizes how to not feel the pain of never having my mother to go to. I decided I had had enough and went away to bible college, thinking it would fix me. But it didn't fix me, it revived me. God knew. God in his grace, took me on this journey of self discovery while I was there, not in substance abuse or motherlessness but in Him. I always identified and measured my life by the amount of tragedy and grief I had gone through. I have always been one to feel deeply, whether in grief or excitement and while I have always loved music/played instruments, I never thought that God would use me in this. I began to have these intimate moments with the Lord through song and prophetic worship. And while I was at bible college I was able to serve on our worship team through leading songs and playing the guitar. What an experience! This became my safe haven. The intimacy that music can give you is how the Lord revealed himself to me in a season of self-discovery. BUT...

 Fast forward two and a half years of specifically working on my relationship with God and myself... I went on a bit of a bender of my old ways when I went home for a weekend. This resulted in finding out I was pregnant in the middle of worship internship with my college. Summer of 2019, my life was turned c o m p l e t e l y upside down as I welcomed Jameson Lee into the world. People have sex all the time and never get pregnant, but I did after this one time. So much backlash from the Christian community, so much judgement towards myself, but also so much support from the people that God had put in my life through leaders and friends made at college.  And yet again, I have to weather this without my mother who I KNOW would have given nothing but gracious support. Becoming a mother without a mother is always something I worried about after her passing and now that I am here, I am seeing the Lord in a way that I know I wouldn't see if she were here...because God knew. My son is the epitome of J O Y; something I always struggled with finding in my life with constant grieving. 

 Every season felt like yet another thing to figure out without my mom rather than something to enjoy. But God in his grace knew exactly what He was doing. He used my ability to feel so deeply and turned it into leading people into the intimacy of His presence through worship. He took my inability to find joy in life for years and gave me a son who gives people joy with everyone he comes in contact with. He is one now and I pray daily that God uses this natural joy in him for something G R E A T E R. So while I do love my mother and wish she could be here on earth to meet my son, I also know that I would not be where I am without her passing. It's humbling, really. To come to terms with her passing. It has lead me to see greater things, to grow up, and to be a mother that I am proud of being even though I don't have her to turn to. The Lord, so graciously, took the waves of my life that the enemy could have used to crush me, taking me higher. So that His glory could be seen in my life and experience Him ways that I never could have.

DanielleRoose

My name is Danielle Roose. I was born and raised in Richmond, Virginia. I am a mom to the best little boy, Jameson, and a lover of all things music.

What Do You Grab When You Grieve? Guest Writer: Ashley Jones

When I was 27 years old, I lost my only daughter to a terminal illness. At that point in my life, I thought I was a pretty mature adult... I had graduated college, married my college sweetheart, survived in the corporate world, and had a baby. How did I learn so much, yet not learn how to grieve? And where were the teachers, resources, and help when I needed it?

What I found was a lot of people telling me how I might feel, what to expect, what people might say, or even sharing their grief stories, but no one really telling me what to do with all that. Grief can be crippling. It can crack you wide open for the better or for the worse depending on how you choose to respond. But in the raw grief, when we experience the loss, it's hard to make that choice. Our brain is in survival mode. And if you've experienced shock and trauma with your loss, it can be even more challenging to operate from a place of intention.  

What I have learned, and what I hope to share with the world, is that we can heal in grief. Each and every one of us. There are things you can do to help. No matter how traumatic, how shocking, and how painful... Our bodies want to heal, but we have to open our hearts to allow the healing and help our brains operate from a place of intention instead of survival. So how do we do this?

The first step is becoming self-aware and being present in the pain. To heal is to grieve. To grieve is to feel. To feel is to be present. If we are checking out on a regular basis through drugs (prescription or recreational), alcohol, endless scrolling on social media, video games, binge-watching shows, or whatever your method of choice is, we aren't present. And when we aren't present, we can't feel things and learn where the healing needs to happen. Let me take a minute to acknowledge that none of the things above are inherently bad and some people need medicine to help them with chemical imbalances or other things, and that's okay. What I am talking about is a situational or emotional trigger that makes you regularly want to grab your phone, the whiskey bottle, remote, or whatever it is to numb or check out from reality.

So back to the how. Some of the work can be done through counseling, EMDR therapy, meditation. Some of the work might need to address the pieces of you that words can't reach through deep tissue massage, sound baths, float tanks, cranial sacral therapy, and other body-focused work. The important thing is to find out what works for you.

There is so much to share about this, which is why I am in the process of writing a book that will be an active guide to grieving with guided questions, exercises, and stories to walk people through the raw grief and help people heal old wounds. It's my hope that we can start bringing truth to grief; that time doesn't heal all (it can help but it takes intention too), there is no time-frame on grieving (it will be lifelong, just like the love you have), and grief/pain isn't bad (it can be your greatest teacher and guide).

I founded a nonprofit on a mission to revolutionize the way we heal in grief, called Love Not Lost. We photograph people facing a terminal diagnosis, provide support tools and resources to the community (like www.HowCanILoveYouBetter.com), and are bringing grief and empathy training to the workplace through our Corporate Care Program.

I hope you will join us as we work to break the stigma around grief and bring love and healing to those who are hurting.

Ashley Jones

Ashley Jones is the founder and executive director of Love Not Lost, a nonprofit on a mission to revolutionize the way we heal in grief. From losing her daughter to growing Love Not Lost, Ashley has a lot of experience in death and grief; something she never thought would be in her bio. Yet, she's learned how to process, heal, and grow through the pain and is sharing that information with others to help them do the same.

What is EMDR Therapy and Why I Tried It, Guest Writer: Whitney

When my beautiful friend Katie told me that light therapy had helped heal her trauma and related behaviors, I was more than a bit skeptical. You're telling me a shade of blue helped you overcome your trauma and pain??? I could hear the twilight theme song in my head...  ETT or Emotional Transformation Therapy (Vasquez, 1991) is a type of therapy that uses peripheral eye movement and hues of color to heal the fractures in the brain caused by traumatic somatic or interpersonal events.

Here is why I tried it…

I have seen those around me who I trust and who have served the same sentence of grief and loss as me, be transformed, find hope, and begin to trust they can have happiness without the looming fear of losing a loved one again. I wanted that, I wanted to be free from the chains of grief ignored.  I started on my journey about 4 years after my father's sudden death. I became desperate for relief from the growing anxiety and fear of losing everyone I loved. I had chosen to cope with apathy, and had been and still struggle with low grade depression and lack of motivation. Getting out of bed was now an obstacle and I felt subconsciously, what’s the point if we all meet our end? I cannot escape the painful knowledge that all those I love cannot avoid an end.  My anxiety began to bleed into parts of my life where I was completely safe, panicking at work, wanting to stay home instead of go out because of the “what ifs”. Thinking thoughts like,“what if me wanting to take this trip in the mountains makes something terrible happen to us, it would be my fault because I know the risk. If you are like me who is still working to overcome this, you may find hope in healing your brain through light.  I know, I know.. Hear me out.

A little Science…

Dr Steven Vasquez (1991) developed the ETT theory (Emotional Transformation Therapy) and model using various realms of science for example, neurobiology, quantum physics, and optometry (Good Therapy, 2016). Basically when the brain goes through a traumatic event to self preserve, it splits and compartmentalizes the pain to protect itself. This pain is often stored in different compartments of the brain (Vasques, 1991). This made sense to me considering I would see an animal commercial and feel grief or feel anger instead of sadness at an unexpected or unwanted ending of a movie made me feel emotions I was desperately trying to sleep through. I began to cut out whatever would make me feel so that I did not have those pesky “surprise” emotions or I would stop doing things I love so I would not feel anxiety. I began to numb out and escape, the joy of life fading with sleep and monotony. With almost 30 years of research there has been shown a very positive correlation with ETT and rapid healing from traumatic somatic or interpersonal events.

Bring it home..

I remember exactly where I was and how I started to drown in my emotions when I found out my dad had passed away.  It was sudden and he was gone before any of us even knew something happened to him. I was planning my wedding and was overwhelmed with what felt like a robbery of what was supposed to be mine. I was supposed  to have my dad walk me down the aisle. In more recent events, with the tragic and senseless murder or George Floyd, the global pandemic, and the daily stresses and fears of being a new mother, I have felt an overwhelming sense of depression. My dad was supposed to be there for the birth of my daughter. Before I was pregnant I had started receiving ETT therapy and it was apparent within moments of my first session that this method was a game changer. I felt hope not only that I could survive loss but that I could feel joy and start to risk again, that I could start to participate with my life and live again. I stopped while I was pregnant because I became severely sick until the end of my pregnancy but started again after to help battle the gloom of postpartum depression. Almost 8 months into my being a mother and I adore our Lydia but I have struggled deeply.  My fear of losing my daughter in any way choked the motivation of daily life right out of me. I began ETT and experienced immediate results for my struggles. I  am beginning to connect with my body and spirituality in a new and fresh way, I can feel God again, I can experience peace and Godly motivation. I can have trust again.  

A Word Of Caution:

This is my research (which I will link below) and my experience. I feel that ETT has completely changed my brain and life but therapy and therapists are like a pair of shoes, they must fit. Be aware that if you struggle with seizures, this may not be for you, I am not a therapist nor am I a doctor so always consult before you jump in.  Be aware it is ok for a type of therapy to not be “the one”. If you are dealing with the pain of loss, be gracious with yourself and give this a try, if not, healing is out there and our savior has it in store for you. 

We were not promised forever, or that everyday would be utopia, ice cream, and unicorns, but there is hope for a better day if you have struggled with loss like I have, I only wish you success and integration as we journey together toward true peace and wholeness. May we live after experiencing someone die. Reach out for more information and resources. With love and abundance,

-Whit Chrisman

B.A. in Transformational Ministry , M.A. in Psychology 

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Whitney Chrisman

Hi, I am Whitney and my passion is people and their behaviors. I have a side passion for decor and environmental mastery. I have the joy of being the mother of Lydia Marie and lover to my husband, the person who knows the deepest parts of my being. I look forward to mastering the art of being with you.

wtyler991@gmail.com

Good Therapy, 2016 : Emotional Transformation Therapy (ETT) retrieved from: https://www.goodtherapy.org/learn-about-therapy/types/emotional-transformation-therapy

A New Paradigm for PTSD Treatment: Emotional Transformation Therapy™ by Steven Vazquez, Ph.D. Retrieved from: https://ettia.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/A-New-Paradigm-for-PTSD-Treatment-ETT.pdf

Vazquez, S. R. (n.d.). Peripheral Light Stimulation for Rapid Emotional, Somatic and Transpersonal Regulation. Subtle Energies & Energy Medicine, 16(3). Retrieved from: https://journals.sfu.ca/seemj/index.php/seemj/article/viewFile/58/46

5 Lessons Learned From a Fatherless Daughter, Guest Writer: Jessica Itano

I want to preface this article with a disclaimer: I am making this all about me. Just hear me out. While it may seem like I say “I” one too many times, I feel inappropriate saying “you”. If you’re reading this article, it may be because you’ve lost your dad. I’ll be honest in saying, when I lost my dad, I didn’t want anyone’s advice. I rolled my eyes, scoffed, and even said the occasional curse word in my mind when people offered me their unsolicited opinions on how long it would take to feel better. “It just takes time,” “It’ll get easier,” “Trust me. It’ll be ok.”

I appreciate that everyone’s grief journey is different. So I’m not here to offer advice. I’m here simply just to share my story, and if you happen to benefit from any part of it, I’ve done my job.

My dad is a girl dad. Growing up, he was the only man in the house. A wife, two baby girls (one being me - hi, I’m Jess), and three girl cats. He made our lives effortless. He was our friend, math tutor, tech guy, softball coach, insect killer, car mechanic, plumber, personal chef, tax accountant, decision maker, gps, grocery shopper, and you bet, many times, our bank. He held many titles and claimed many responsibilities. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. 

In January of 2014, Dad passed away at the age of 54. He came down with the common flu which developed to pneumonia. He drove himself to the hospital for a casual checkup. He even posted a hilarious selfie in his hospital gown. That visit turned into an eight day stay in the intensive care unit. Never - not once - did I expect us to have to drive his car home without him.

My dad’s death was shocking. Unexpected. Life altering in a way I could have never even fathomed before that day. The eight days spent solely in the hospital was an emotional roller coaster, flowing between hopeful highs and terrifying lows, only to end in the worst case scenario. I felt like I was standing on a violent battlefield of emotional warfare.

The following weeks were numb. My mom, my sister, and I were going through motions: breaking the news, planning arrangements, accepting condolences, etc. I use the term “etcetera” because much of it is a blur. Once the initial phase of losing Dad passed, we were then left to navigate life without him.

I had one thought: how?

How is this a “normal” part of life that everyone has to experience? How do people live through this? Will I live through this? How do I take care of Mom and my family? As time moved on, the questions became more specific.

How do I get my oil changed - is it a synthetic blend or full synthetic? How do I fix my computer with this virus? How do I use a drill? How do I do my taxes? How am I going to kill this spider in my kitchen? How long do I cook salmon for? How to I fill nail holes in my apartment walls? How do I negotiate a new car lease?

Many times, these questions stopped me in my tracks. They knocked the wind out of me and brought me to tears. Now, six years later, sometimes they still do. But somehow, I’ve started to find joy in these moments. How?

1. I ALLOW THESE MOMENTS TO BRING MEMORIES.

Rather than feeling angry, sad, distressed, or upset, I’ve learned to live in the moment of what these situations bring me. For example: It is incredibly different not to roll my eyes and curse the world for its insensitivity when I walk by the Father’s Day cards at Target. Then I pause, take a deep cleansing breath, and remind myself of the loud singing cards we used to buy my dad every year. I get a giggle out of the fact that he genuinely enjoyed them.

2. I RECOGNIZE MY DAD’S PRESENCE.

At first, I told myself I was searching for signs. I now accept that my dad shows up in many ways. So when a hawk soars by, the lights spontaneously flicker, a man walks by that looks curiously like him, or I have a dream of him, I know Dad’s with me. These signs bring me comfort, peace of mind, and hope.

3. I PUT WORDS TO MY FEELINGS.

After years of claiming “therapy won’t change the fact that Dad is gone,” I finally started talking about my grief. Speaking of specific and horrific moments revokes their power over me. Being asked a question about my emotions allows me to decipher what triggers such feelings. Discussing the impact this loss has had on my life teaches me how to nurture myself. Explaining my nightmares has revealed their meaning. Therapy, journaling, women’s or moon circles, and talking with loved ones have all given me the chance to speak my mind.

4. I HOLD MY EMOTIONS GENTLY.

Sometimes I feel solid, and others I crumble. I can celebrate in my dad’s memory then suddenly be halted by a panic attack. There are moments that I am ready to grow, and others I welcome the sadness because it feels familiar. It’s comfortable. I often battle between two thoughts: I can’t be happy because that portrays that I’ve forgotten about my dad’s death, but on the other hand, my dad wouldn’t want me to be stuck in this constant state of sorrowful heartache. I feel a never-ending sense of conflict. And you know what? That’s ok. Grief is not linear. It comes and goes in waves. I try my best to feel and flow with the tides.

5. I EMBRACE THE LESSONS MY DAD TEACHES ME FROM HEAVEN.

Since my dad’s passing, I have learned how to comfortably (and fearlessly) travel by plane, live out of hotels for work, travel alone, use a drill, hang floating shelves, and make the family’s teriyaki chicken and sunomono recipe. I have negotiated a car lease, moved houses, killed a bug here and there, gotten my oil changed without being conned into six unnecessary services, and completed my taxes (more than once). I have finally learned when to stop before I’ve had one too many drinks, and actually acquired a taste for bloody mary’s. If it weren’t for my dad, I wouldn’t have had the foundational knowledge to accomplish any of these things. Like I said, Dad did things because he knew we could but felt like we shouldn’t have to, not because we couldn’t do it ourselves. With every new lesson I learn and task I accomplish, I am introduced to the strong, stable, and independent version of myself that my dad raised me to be.

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Jessica Itano

Hi, I’m Jess. I’ve always expressed myself best through writing, but the practice truly became healing after losing my dad. Outside of writing, many of my other interests also align with soul searching and personal development: yoga, meditation, reading, and creating art.

The Heart of a Dad Through the Eyes of a Child

I lost my dad. Twice. At the age of seven and again at twenty-seven. When a seven-year old and his five-year-old brother, experience dad moving out of their home, the loss is severe, and the impact is life altering. Sadly, we were so young, and life was just getting started, so the loss and impact was actually unknown. How could a seven and five-year old have any understanding of what was being lost by not experiencing the heart of a dad in the home? The void of his presence, the strength of his hugs, the coming alongside in learning, the words of encouraging wisdom from a man’s perspective would be benefits observed in the homes of our childhood friends.  

 Separated life with dad was not perfect, but thankfully it was not lacking in genuineness. I knew I was loved, but from a distance. Then, twenty years later he would leave again.  This time it would be cancer that stole him away. However, “this time” the loss and impact would be known. There would be choices to make, decisions about life and career, challenges with the inevitable storms on the horizon. All of it, seemingly, would have been helped from having knowledge that comes from the heart and wisdom of a dad. This time gone forever. Or so it seemed in the moment. And then it happened.

 I became one. A dad.

I’m not a psychologist, a marriage and family counselor, or a child specialist. I’m a Dad.  I’m not perfect, I have made mistakes and I’m sure I will make mistakes in the future. I’m human. I’m a Dad. My children don’t expect me to be perfect, in fact they know I am not. Over the years they have come to understand the true heart of a dad by watching me navigate life in my imperfection. Truth be told, what was lost in my lack of understanding of what a dad’s heart should look like was discovered and forged through the eyes and understanding of my children. Here are a few things they have taught me:

1.     Being present, available, listening, watching, attentive and aware were advantages unknown to me as a young boy. My children have shown me that there is strength and confidence gained in healthy and safe environments. Learning through challenges and processing of thoughts and ideas are necessary disciplines of life.

2.     Teach by words and by actions. Be real. Be genuine. Never forget there are eyes watching and learning. Minds that are taking it all in. My children have learned how to handle the challenges of life by watching how life’s challenges were being handled. Perfection is not the goal but rather how to navigate life in an imperfect world is.

3.     Unconditional Love is not a feeling but rather a statement of commitment and action. It is unselfish. It is an awareness that every goal, every objective, every purpose in life is ultimately for the benefit of someone else. No matter what has been done, no matter the failure, love is never withheld or denied. True love does not come with conditions.

 The heart of a dad is a gift given to children that should never be abandoned or stolen. Understanding the heart of a dad is a gift given back to him through the eyes and hearts of his children. Valuable gifts in both directions.

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Mike Larkin

Mike is a business leader in the for-profit and non-profit sectors, a professor on campus and on-line, a leader globally and in the local community, in an ever changing world and culture. With two constants: Faith and Family. And he’s a proud dad!

When You Ask Why After Loosing Someone To Suicide, Guest Writer: Grace Alonso

Faith and grief, to me at least, are inevitably intertwined. My story about losing my dad has everything to do with finding Jesus. And my testimony about accepting Jesus has everything to do with me growing up without my biological father. 

When I was three and a half years old, my father took his own life. I don’t remember much about him, other than a few insignificant memories of us that still make me smile. My family loves to tell me about the kind of man he was; strong, caring, hilarious, loving, and passionate about God. Growing up and hearing about his otherworldly character was always a hard experience. Why weren’t any of these attributes, even a love for God, enough to keep him here?

I didn’t find out it was suicide until I was 10, when I realized I actually didn’t know how he died. I was angry, shocked, and hurt. I had grown up thinking my dad died not of his own will and if he had had his way, he would still be here with me. This wasn’t the case. I felt as if everything I had known about him, about myself, was a lie. I wasn’t enough. Or at least that is the seed that was planted in my head. 

Throughout those pivotal middle school years, I struggled with the concept that my father had chosen to leave this earth, leave me. I believed suicide was a selfish act and he had done this selfishly, not truly considering or even loving me. I questioned everything. 

Growing up without him was strange. I have a wonderful “step”-dad (he has been around forever and for all intents and purposes is my dad) but there was still this hole that I couldn’t explain. That hole was ignited with a flame when I found out how my father had died. I grieved a man I had never known. I missed a man I knew I loved but never experienced. I couldn’t talk about him with anyone, or so it felt, because the details surrounding his death were still too painful for some. And so I bottled every single one of these feelings, and countless more, up inside me for all those years. 

The result of not processing, of not truly grieving, did a number on me. I wasn’t able to experience true relationship with people and constantly let the narrative of me not being good enough take over at some point. I was constantly striving to be what I thought people wanted from me, constantly distancing myself to extremely painful ends. High school was the most pivotal time for this process. I not only met Jesus as my best friend freshman year, but I let Him start the process of opening up the hole that had never really been closed anyway. 

It wasn’t until sophomore year, though, that I learned more details about my dad. Stuff I won’t share on here, because that is his story and one that I hold close to me, because it is one where I finally understood him. I was able to understand why he had chosen to kill himself, to take his life, to remove himself from this world—from me. It wasn’t a selfish act, in fact it was far from it. It was selfless. That is the thing I think people miss with suicide. The people that are struggling with this are convinced this world is a better place without them. It is our job, our duty, our responsibility, our privilege to show them otherwise. I am grateful for my dad’s story and for what God has taught me through it. I miss him every day and I believe he is in heaven waiting for me, enjoying the presence of our savior. 

So please. If anyone reaches out to you about depression, about these thoughts, just listen. Know it isn’t selfish. Know they would give anything to be feeling that there was another option. And show them their presence on this side of heaven matters. 

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Grace Alonso

Grace grew up in Ventura County, CA. She is currently working toward a bachelor of science in who knows what and doing an internship at her home church. Her absolute favorite thing right now is being a nanny to an autistic boy.

Losing My Mom Made Me Who I am Today, Guest Writer Rashida

I saw a quote on Instagram from a fellow grief blogger that said, “The Grief That Broke Me, Built Me,” and it really, really hit me in my soul. Recently I watched an episode of This Is Us where Randall asked Kevin if he ever wondered what his life would be like if their dad hadn’t died. Kevin answered no....which I honestly don’t believe. Randall said he does every single day.  

It has been 14 years since my mom passed away. I miss her every single day, but I can’t say I wonder what my life would be like with her still alive just as much. 

You see, I’d accepted that the death of my mom caused my life to go in a completely different direction long ago. It happened almost instantly. One direction change that always stands out to me is where I went to college. Before my mom passed away, I was set on going to Missouri State once known as Southwest Missouri State). My aunt went there and from the moment I set foot on campus for her graduation I told my mom that’s where I was going. Where did I actually go? The University of Missouri to pursue journalism because it was closer to home in case anyone else decided to die on me. That one choice changed the course of my life yet again.

Fast forward to now I’d be lying if I said I wish my life were any different. I once said I’d love it if my mom were here, in this exact life that I have. But I know that wouldn’t be true. I may not have gone to Mizzou, met Ben, had Dom or have P on the way. When I look into Dom’s blue eyes and kiss that perfect nose that he got from my mom, I’d be hard-pressed to want an alternative life. I am happy. I’d do all of the heartbreak all over again if I knew I’d get to this place. I can’t regret any decision or life event that resulted in Dom. Motherhood is a bit healing like that.  

Losing my mom made me who I am today, and I have done an immense amount of work to love that person. She is strong. She is beautiful. She doesn’t take shit. She stands up for herself and what she believes in. She is gritty. She is scrappy. She can rise above anything. She is unbreakable because she’s been through the worst and she still stands. She is me and I love every piece of her. Even the dark parts. It’s hard to imagine a different me now.  Life is made of many little shifts in direction and I’m not saying I don’t miss my mom. I do! I’d give anything for her to meet her grandbabies. But I think at some point in the grief journey you begin to appreciate the time you had with someone more than you grieve the time you lost with them. I couldn’t tell you when that shift happens because grief is not linear. And though I like the way my life turned out so far, that doesn’t mean one memory of my mom doesn’t sometimes bring me to my knees in tears. 

I’m Rashida. A motherless mom on a mission to build a community that provides support to moms like me. Moms who are navigating both grief and motherhood.

www.themotherlessmomblog.com

Knowing Your Role in Your Grieving Spouse's Healing Journey, Guest Writer: Kyle (My husband!)

When I’m getting to know a new person, and they ask me about myself, it generally doesn’t take too long before I start talking about my wife. As I share bits and pieces of her life, I’m often met with the response, “Wow, it sounds like she has such a crazy story.” To which I reply, ”Yeah, she wrote a book about it. You should check it out.”

If you have followed Ceci, and “Healing, Hope and Wholeness”, you are probably pretty familiar with her story. During her book writing process, and even now as she continues to share her grief journey, I have walked through her story dozens of times; proofreading, editing, formatting and processing the whole experience with her. I may know her story as well as I know my own!

They say when you marry a person, you marry their whole family. I believe when you marry someone you also marry their grief. I don’t mean that as a negative. In fact, it's one of my greatest honors to know and feel my wife’s sorrows. It’s every bit as sweet as sharing in her joy. It is all a part of the person that I love.

I never met Ceci’s mom, Cathy, but I came so close. For one day we were actually on the same tiny, college campus. In all likelihood, we were in the same room! If only I had known what the future would hold, I would have dropped everything to have just one conversation with her. A few months later, as I was just becoming friends with Ceci, Cathy passed away. After that school semester I moved away, and it would be two years before Ceci and I reconnected and started dating. As a new college friend, I had seen her from the outskirts during the season of fresh grief. As her new boyfriend, I began to learn what that season was truly like for her and what life and grief looked like for her now. Over the past 9 years since we first started dating, each momentous occasion has carried with it the weight of her mom’s absence. Our joys have been shared with sorrows and together we’ve learned to navigate that tension. I’m still learning.

For starters, I’ve learned that there is no correct method to support a grieving spouse. Grief ebbs and flows like the wind and the way we respond will vary too. It takes work and attentiveness. That being said, if you love someone who is grieving, have grace for yourself. Nothing you do or say will solve the problem and that’s not your job. Your job is to love them and the fact that they are married to you tells me you are on the right track.

90% of supporting a grieving spouse is listening. Really listening. If you are going to speak into their life, you need to know where they are in that moment. As my wife shares her heart with me, I can be tempted to start thinking about my response. I mean, I don’t want to say the wrong thing or be insensitive. But, I’ve found that when I’m able to tune that part of my brain out and focus on what she is saying, my responses are more loving and life giving. When I listen well, I’m able to interpret her needs, and use the remaining 10% of time to meet those needs.

Most of the time, I find that all she needs is to be understood and for her feelings to be validated. She needs to know she’s not alone. In this case my response is, almost always, simple. “It’s not fair.” “It’s ok to still be sad.” “You can always talk to me.” “I love you.” I try to always end by thanking her for sharing with me. Her vulnerability is a gift and I truly am thankful.

On occasion, I will dig deeper. If she shares a memory, I might pull on it a little for more detail and a better understanding of her and her mom. If she is struggling to understand why she’s feeling a certain way, I’ll ask questions and try to figure it out with her. It may be easier to just stick with the empathetic responses, but I believe that, as her husband, I’ve been given an opportunity to come alongside her and take an active part in her healing journey. Apart from Ceci herself, there’s no one who has a larger stake in the state of her heart than me. Our stories have melded into one over the years; different pasts but a shared future. I want to do what I can to fill that future with life and joy. 

Enjoy this poem written by Kyle Frost:

I wear it like a coat.

Heavy a times, but hanging on my shoulders at my own choosing.

Not that I chose it.

It was a gift from my love, but she didn’t know if I would want it.

Why shouldn’t I? It is so warm.

Filled with many memories.

Now and then I can feel the sharp point of one poking through.

I gently pull on it, watching it unfurl before me.

I cherish every one.

Each time, my coat becomes lighter. By a feather.

It will never become weightless, I know,

Nor do I want it to.

It’s weight reminds me of the giver.

• Kyle Frost

Supporting Each Other After the Loss of a Child, Guest Writer: Jessica Stewart

Compassionate Friends conducted a study in 2006 stating, “72 percent of parents who were married at the time of their child’s death are still married to the same person. The remaining 28 percent included 16 percent in which one spouse had died, and 12 percent of marriages had ended in divorce.” 

My first thought was, “Of the 28% where the spouse dies, how many of those deaths are suicide?” I’ve been in the pediatric cancer community for 5 years now, and unfortunately I’ve learned some parents cannot bear the death of their child, so they take their own life. It crosses the mind of the strongest and bravest parents.

Since learning my son had an 80% chance of being cured of Leukemia, then losing him, I am not a big follower of statistics.

However, knowing my marriage could be at risk after losing our son, made me very vigilant at a time when I could hardly focus on anything. 

Something I learned from the book Love and Respect, (by Dr. Eggeriches) is men feel loved when their spouse is simply present. When my husband, Aaron, woke up each morning crying, I laid on his chest. I was just there. Present. Hurting with him, but saying nothing. 

Part of loving and supporting a spouse through grief, is allowing them to grieve in their own way. Division can come easily. You are both running on empty emotional tanks. Your spirituality may be stunted. You want to draw comfort from the one who’s job it is to love; you but they are empty too. There’s nothing there. 

In my sadness, when I saw Aaron wear something of our son’s to feel close to him, I wanted to be mad. A pain as heavy s as losing a child is so tremendous, your mind is searching for a way to release some of it. Anger is a secondary emotion. Spouses are tempted again and again to lash out. The truth is, you don’t need more pain, and that’s what you end up with when you start taking things out on your spouse. So, when Aaron wore something of Joel’s, instead of reacting,  I would have to think, “If wearing Joel’s t-shirt brings me comfort, how can I blame Aaron for wanting to do the same thing?" You have to guard your heart and your tongue.

Taking a trip sounded ridiculous to me, but my spouse thought it would help to get away. We left for Cancún a few weeks after Joel moved to Heaven. Removing yourself from your current living space, to  a land not saturated with memories of your lost one, may help you to breathe. We walked, we talked, we cried. We sat and watched the ocean ebb and flow. We watched the sunrise, and the sunsets. Here, there was a chance to feel a bit of peace… to feel like we could breath. Broken me, fitting into broken him, doing our best to hold each other up as we limped through grief. Never judge someone’s relationship with a lost one. You may wonder why your spouse is so sad, because they were not close to the parent they lost. You can mourn so much more than a person’s presence. Death can also be a trigger for other issues. We cringed when someone would put emphasis on Joel being Aaron’s stepson. People should be allowed to mourn whatever it is they feel they lost once someone passes away. A chance a reconciliation, a dream to have a close relationship, a childhood hunger for a father, or a feeling of being safe. We don’t know. 

Be present. Just breath. Allow room for grief to unfold without taking things personally. Hold hands. Don't make room for division. Create a safe space to talk. At some point the grief will spill out in words. You won’t have all the answers. Just give love, acceptance, and reassurance. Deeply hurt people don’t usually want to be cheered up. You can’t fix things. You can’t save your spouse. Persist with relentless love.

How to Create a Safe Space for Your Grieving Spouse, Guest Writer: Colleen Kuzma

 In 1994 my husband, a pastor, officiated his own brothers funeral. His brother, Leroy, was 33 at the time and left behind a wife and 4 daughters. Heartbreaking. I thought how strong my husband is that he could be the rock for his family and perform this gift for his brother. When the funeral was done and everyone was outside, he collapsed in a heap, crying uncontrollably behind the podium. I was grateful to witness this extreme emotion of humanity regarding such loss and love. 

  In 2015 we said so many heartbreaking goodbyes. In March, we left our home church  that my husband had been on staff for 29 years, so he could go to work with our Denomination. My sister in law unexpectedly passed in April leaving behind a husband and two little kids. My husband's mom passed in May due to cancer, and then we moved East in August. Within those first two years there would be a total of 8 funerals including both my husbands and 6 months later my best friend. 

     My husband was a wreck. He continued working but he had a very hard time processing so much loss.  I didn’t work right away, which was not by choice; now looking back, it was a gift to be home and be present for my husband and son. We would take weekend drives exploring the countryside in our new state, and attend local events. 

 As mentioned earlier, I received word that my best friend had passed away both suddenly and unexpectedly in September 2016. Her second daughter was to be married in her home state of Hawaii in just two months. 

     I started asking God questions, it was all too painful to think about or process…

How can this be? This is not possible, this is not fair. What will her daughter do? How will her family navigate this? God how could you let this happen? How can her daughter not have her mama present at her wedding when it is so close? 

      My husband stayed with me in our bed and just held me. He would clear his schedule where he could so he could be home with me. When he had to leave he checked in and called when he was returning home. He held me often over those next few weeks. He let me set the pace, he listened. His presence and his touch were so comforting.

 So how might one help a grieving spouse?

• Regardless of how strong they appear, be ready to assist them

• Non sexual personal touch

• Be present

• Listen, let the grieving spouse share their stories

• Ask, how can I help you?

• Check in by phone, text, email

• Let the grieving spouse set the pace

 Sometimes grief requires outside help ie. multiple sorrowful events, the inability to move forward in life, engaging in risky/detrimental behaviors. There is no shame in asking for help. Create an atmosphere for your spouse where they feel supported in expressing their grief and vulnerability.

Through my personal story of the multiple losses I’ve experienced I’ve learned:

• God is with us in our grief 

• God provides

• God is a light in our darkness

How to Support Your Grieving Spouse for the Long Hall, Guest Writer: Eric Nestor

When I first met Courtney I was initially drawn to her kindness and beautiful smile. As we became friends I realized that her smile didn’t come without pain.

Through social media I found out that her father had passed away because every Father’s Day, on her dad’s birthday and day of passing she would usually post something about it. I initially was saddened at the thought that someone whom I knew had lost a parent, something I know is tough for anyone to go through. When we began dating it was a topic that she wasn’t shy or hesitant to talk about however I didn’t know how to proceed when the subject came up. As time went on and we were further in our relationship I would casually ask questions about her dad. I’d ask what he was like, what his personality was like and what sport teams he liked (hoping she would say the dodgers when it came to baseball).

As we got engaged and married I would always stay quiet when she would speak about her dad because tears would ensue.  I know it was really difficult for her in the weeks and months leading up to our wedding because her dad wasn’t there to see us get married and walk her down the aisle. I simply didn’t know what to do or say in those moments so I didn’t say or do anything at all. I wanted to fix the situation but there was nothing to fix. 

I’ve learned a few things from dating, being engaged and now married to someone who has lost a father.

Here are a few:

-I’ve learned to ask questions, at the right moments. So I asked her if there was something she needed from me, which may sound silly but by asking we were both able to understand where we were each coming from.

-I explained that this was also new to me and I wasn’t sure what to do, if anything at all. My wife wanted me to listen and be there for her in moments where she remembered her father. She wanted me to hug her, cry with her, feel with her.  Like literally be physically and emotionally present in those moments, without saying anything but hugging her and listening to her remember her father.

I understand that everyone is different and others may desire something different from their spouse or partner to help grieve. Everyone grieves very differently and sometimes people on the out side can say and/or do the wrong things in an attempt to help. At times, to fill the awkwardness people say the wrong things and cause more damage than good.

If you know someone who has lost a loved one, instead of doing or saying something I’d encourage you to simply be there for them, hug them, cry with them, listen to them in that very moment when he or she is remembering their loved one. Then when the moment is right, ask appropriate questions.

A few questions that I’ve asked are:

• Though it’s painful, do you like when I ask about your dad and ask you to tell me what he was like?

• Is there something you want to do to remember your dad (especially on holidays)?

• What do you think your dad would’ve done in this situation?

I’ve learned that my wife does want to share about her father to me, her husband, though it may be difficult at times. I understand others may not want want to share as much or at all depending on the type of relationship they had with their parent. We never know how to proceed unless we ask. Asking key questions at the right moments can help those people in our lives who are grieving the loss of a parent. 

Now every year on her dad’s birthday and father’s day we do something special. We remember her father by eating good food because he loved to barbecue and getting pizookies because he loved desserts. I ask my wife to tell me stories about her father. I love being able to celebrate the life that my father in law lived through my wife. I hope this has been helpful for you. 

I have thought about my own grief journey with not having a father in law. It's difficult for me to put into words my feelings towards my own grief journey because coming into marriage I didn't have any specific expectations of my in-laws. What I can say is my grieving is done through my wife and what she feels. When we first met and I heard my wife's story of losing her father I was initially saddened on a level that I think anyone would feel who hears a story of loss. As our feelings grew for each other, we got engaged and married I was also grieving the loss of her father because I so deeply care for my wife. I never met her father and don't have a personal attachment to him but I do have an attachment and deep love for my wife so what makes her grieve makes me grieve. Of course I'm not saying I grieve to the level that my wife grieves, her and I don't grieve the same because we've had different experiences and we grieve very different in general. I grieve the loss of my wife's father because I see the pain that it has caused and still causes her. I grieve because the stories I hear my wife share about her dad makes me think about how great it would've been to meet him and have him be a part of our lives as a married couple. Things that my wife says her dad "loved" like sports, good food and coffee we do in remembrance of him which is how I also grieve along with my wife. I never thought grief could be "transferred" but I've experienced this for the first time. I love my wife dearly, therefore I grieve when she grieves.  

EN

Balancing Unresolved Feelings with the Mix of Honor After the Loss of a Loved One, Guest Writer: Paul Kuzma

May 29 was the 4 year marker of losing Mom, and June 3 marked 4 months since the loss of Dad. Of course, I already knew there would be something (maybe many things) different about the loss of Dad from the loss of Mom. That has borne itself out to be true.

One of the ways was expected, the other not so much.

I expected the loss of Dad would be different in the experience of what I call the “orphan syndrome.” That’s what occurs when you are a child, even an adult child, who has lost both parents. I have definitely felt the loss of both parents now in a way that has an entirely different emphasis than when we lost Mom, and still had Dad.

The more unexpected difference since the loss of Dad has been the tension I have experienced between the unresolved parts of our relationship and the true desire I have to honor his memory. 

To be clear, when Dad died, and since, I have had no regrets. We had a good relationship, and I was able to spend a considerable amount of time with Dad in his last couple of years. It wasn’t an easy task since I had moved across country four years before he died.

The unresolved parts are not regrets for me. They are the parts of life we never talked about simply because Dad wasn’t a “talker.” I long ago released trying to get him to talk and answer my questions, recognizing the value of just being present with him even if all we were doing was watching TV.

For the last year or so, my siblings and I have made a habit of meeting by video every Sunday night. Dad lived with my brother. An inside joke was how long Dad would be on the call before he declared, “y’all take care now!”, which meant he was done talking. I think his record was about 15-20 seconds!

I didn’t expect the unresolved parts to be an issue that would be in tension with my deep desire to honor his memory as well. I’m not done with it and don’t have answers. Not sure I will have them when all is said and done.

However, I did recently hear a counselor talk about family of origin issues, and an individual’s common pushback to doing that work by saying, “I thought we were supposed to honor our parents.” The counselor simply said, “there’s nothing more honoring than telling the truth.”

That statement has brought a measure of freedom from that tension for me. Maybe this Father’s Day, it will to you too. This will be my first without being able to hear his voice, and I already feel the missing of him as the day approaches.

For more regarding the topic of honor and honesty check out this article by The Allender Center: https://theallendercenter.org/2018/06/fathers-day-honor-honesty/ 

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Paul Kuzma

Paul Kuzma is the Director at the Center for Spiritual Renewal East in Christiansburg, VA. He is also the chaplain at their local county sheriffs office. He has spent many years in ministry!

Check out his current work here.

Find him on IG and FB.

Coping Skills to Approach Fathers Day When They're No Longer with You, Guest Writer: Courtney Nestor

June is a tough month to be honest. I can’t even go to Target without seeing the Father’s Day cards just staring at me reminding me of another year that my Dad is gone. I start thinking about our last Father’s Day together where my dad made the most luscious steaks while wearing his “King of the Grill” apron. We played baseball in the front yard and the day felt long. That day was 10 years ago and I still remember it like yesterday. I miss those days with him grilling and family being around and together celebrating our dad.

10 years later, I have learned a few things that have helped me cope with the loss of my Dad that I would like to share with you. I want to preface this post with that what I will say has helped me and I know that each loss and grief journey is different and each relationship with a dad is different. Some of you might have had an estranged relationship with a father. Some of you did not have that same father figure even in your life. Some of you may have been adopted so your dad has a new role in your life. Some of you had a great relationship with a father. You have your own experience, but I hope that through me sharing my learned coping skills and encouragement to you for this Father’s Day, I hope you find yourself refreshed, encouraged, and prompted to be reflective about whatever your experience has been with or without a dad.

One thing I would encourage you in as you prep for Father’s Day is being mindful of your body. Notice how you feel physically. Notice any tension, tightness. Are you clenching your teeth resulting in holding stress in your jaw? Honestly, I did not realize how much tightness I had in my jaw so I give jaw a massage or ask my sweet husband to give my jaw a massage. TRY IT- jaw massages are so nice and it really releases some pressure in the jaw area. Are you more tired when Father Days comes around? I know I am. I need more sleep, my mind is racing so I am physically exhausted. Be mindful of any physical symptoms because our body knows when we are feeling stressed, sad, mad, tired etc. Noticing our body will bring more awareness of how you really are feeling emotionally and sometimes the physical symptoms come before the emotions do. So take a bath, exercise, get 7-8 hours of sleep, eat healthy and notice how your body is feeling. Listen to your body! Tip- google UCLA mindfulness, and try the body scan to observe your body and how it is feeling. This is a great daily practice, but also for harder days like Father’s Day.

After you observe your physical body, begin to notice your thoughts, emotions, feelings and mood. Are you more sad than normal? Are you avoiding your feelings and emotions as Father’s Day draws closer? I notice myself being more sad, withdrawn/isolated, anxious and overwhelmed knowing that Father’s Day is coming. Emotions are so good to process through and I want to encourage you to dig deeper beyond the base emotions which are feeling sad, mad, happy, bad, surprised and fearful. (Google emotions wheel- so helpful) Think of these emotions as the tip of an ice berg. There are so many different emotions that are underneath these base emotions and I want to encourage you to dig deep in how you’re really feeling. This may be uncomfortable and you may cry and you know what, that is OKAY. However you’re feeling, notice those emotions and allow yourself to sit in them. It is important that as you’re digging deeper, reach out to supportive family or friends, pray, journal, hike, scream in a pillow or in your car. Your emotions are meant to be released and it is okay to feel them. Tip- keep a thought/emotions record to monitor what you’re thinking and telling yourself. This can assist you in managing your emotions and help regulate yourself when you’re feeling more low, depressed, anxious, overwhelmed, etc.

This process is daily for me and sometimes moment to moment. There is no right way of grieving, but there is healthy coping so whatever that looks like for you, do it. Because our emotions are correlated with our physical symptoms and vice versa, I believe that when we can be more self-aware and mindful of both, we can allow ourselves to cope in a healthy way. I would encourage you to just be in the moment and allow yourself to feel the emotions as they come, no judgement of feeling weak or small, but rather being human and processing through those emotions. My husband asks me each year what I want to do for Father’s Day and honestly, sometimes, I just don’t know how I am going to be that day, but I also know how I can cope pre-Father’s Day. I feel it out and I don’t plan much. What I have found to be consistently a good choice of activities that reminds me of my dad is going to the beach, drinking coffee and eating good food. I celebrate my dad on Father’s Day even though he is not here. I believe I can honor the amazing father he was and remember the joyful memories I will always keep with me. He may not physically be here, but I carry him with me always because I am his daughter. So as Father’s Day is creeping up, try to take inventory of yourself and see what you need. Maybe you’ll be celebrating another dad in the family, your spouse as a dad, or maybe you don’t have someone who is a fatherly figure and it is just another day. This practice can only benefit you and I pray it is beneficial for your mental and physical health this Father’s Day.

Thank you for reading and I am praying for your hearts this week.

Courtney Nestor xoxo

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Courtney Nestor

Courtney Has her Masters in social work and is currently using her degree to help veterans. She lives in Pasadena with her husband Eric where they drink lots and lots of coffee together and runt he Rose Bowl frequently.

Find her on IG and FB.

You Can't Choose Your Parents but You Can Choose to Get Better Not Bitter, Guest Writer: Laura Jackson

   As I think back on my childhood with my mom, I must believe that the mom God gave me was the best one for me.  At times, it is difficult to believe because of the relationship we have. She was a great cook I can never deny that. She literally could make anything taste wonderful. She made sure that if we wanted to be in a sport, play an instrument, or do anything she found a way so that we were able to do those things. She also was the type of mom our friends loved to be around because she was “cool “. That was great especially as we became teenagers. Although she was, in general, not very nurturing I know she did the best she could with the knowledge she had at the time. She was a young mom raising three kids all on her own. She left my alcoholic dad when I was only 15 months old.  I was the youngest of three. We lived with my grandparents for about two years before she remarried and moved to California. That marriage lasted about five or six years. We went to the local Catholic Church on Christmas and Easter. We had to do the First Communion and Confirmation classes. But that was the extent of any religion in our lives.  

 In all my growing up, my biological father did not pay a dime of child support. Instead my grandfather helped us more than I ever knew. And later in life I did find out he was the one financially supporting us. My mom often times would get angry very quickly and our consequences were very unreasonable. She was into watching her soap operas, therefore we only had certain times we are able to talk with her. If you had a bad day at school, that was not the time to talk to her because she was watching one of her shows. Homework was important to her but for us to do. I don’t recall her ever helping us figure it out. We often had to do standards for her if we misbehaved. Doing chores was also a big part of growing up. She was young and she would date. As we got older, she would take off for a weekend and leave three teenagers home alone. It did not take long for us teenagers to find “things to do.“ I am surprised none of us ended up in jail, on drugs, an alcoholic or married multiple times.    

I can only recall one time when my mother told us she loved us and that was after a major earthquake in 1971. I knew she did because “she was my mom” but we didn’t hear it. My mother also felt as the mother, and later as a grandmother, she had a right to do or say things because she “had her reasons”. This often resulted in overstepping boundaries, broken trust and only my feelings hurt. For years I tried to communicate to her about how this is not okay, but she was “always right”.  

I realized when I talked to my biological father on his deathbed, he was not only a very passive man but a very narcissistic man.  My mother was a narcissistic woman in a very different way. Sad to say for the last 10 years the relationship with my mother has been very rocky if nonexistent. I know in my heart I have tried to work things out, I am not perfect, and I have tried to apologize when I know I have been wrong. I am not trying to bash my parents I am just trying to tell you this is how it was. To this day my mother does not have a relationship with three out of four of her children because of the reasons above.   

Then there was my grandmother. Known as Mama Lupe to us.  She was way too young to be a grandmother when my mom had my brother at 19 years old. Maybe because she got to be the grandmother instead of the mom, she was fun and became my saving grace, my angel and my rock. As I grew older, I spent more time with her. It didn’t matter what we did I just loved to be with her. In fact, I was known as “little mama Lupe“ because I was so much like her. I learned a lot about life and living between her and my grandfather. I was able to help take care of her in her last few years. It wasn’t a whole lot because of the demands of work, raising kids and living out of state. Yet, it was an honor to be there and care for her. She passed away In September 2008. Things were not good when she passed between my mother and the rest of the family. I was not “allowed”, or able if you were to ask my mother, to attend her memorial service because of the decisions my mother made. It was one of the hardest times in my life. Many have said that my mother was jealous of my relationship with her. I was told that I loved her more than anybody else in the family and she loved me as much. That’s hard to believe when she had four kids. I know we had a very special relationship that was different from anybody else’s. There are very few people that have left this earthly life that I miss every day. She is at the top of that list.   

Anyway, just giving you some background of my life, I want to share what I have learned from my mother and my grandmother. First, we can’t choose the parents we have but we do have the choice of what we do with the knowledge and experience that we are given and raised with. You and I have a choice… “Are we going to become bitter or better?” I believe I have become better. Many people that know my story and/or walked through some of it with me have told me that as well. I count the Lord’s saving grace and mercy as my number one source of help to not getting bitter, angry, victimized or resentful.  As a mother of two boys, now grown and married, I worked hard to have a healthy relationship with them. That means teaching them mutual respect, keeping trust, that their word was their word and to have healthy boundaries. Even while they were young. I was criticized as a young Mom for talking things out with my kids. But I felt it was necessary not only to teach them communication but to let them know that even when they misbehaved, I still loved them. They must’ve heard it four or five times a day that I loved them, I would just say it randomly. I may not have liked them at the moment but my love for them never changed. And I know to this day they still know that. I felt I was teaching respect and boundaries that I did not grow up with. My boys are very family oriented and respectful. It is a blessing to hear others tell me what wonderful men they are. This is my reward as a mother.

One thing I realized is God has been faithful and even when my step dad stepped out of my life, God brought other father figures into my life. One was a teacher in high school that just kept “tabs” on me. And after high school, one from a church I attended that I affectionately call “Poppy” still to his day...and his wife I referred to as mom. I have adopted them - they did not have a choice.  I was also blessed with a wonderful mother-in-law. Whom the Lord found fit for me to care for during her last five years. So many people thought she was my mom because of our relationship. When she passed, I had peace. She was my mother in law, not my mom and she was not well. It is hard to see daughters share in a blessed healthy relationship with their mothers and even harder to sympathize with those who have lost their mother. Because I never had that kind of relationship with mine and was robbed of the closest one next to that. I have to look “down” my family tree so to speak. Praying that my boys feel blessed that I am their mom, my daughter in laws that I am their mother in law and my grandchildren that I get to be their grandmother (aka Mumum) and the many other kids I affectionately referred to as “one of my own”.    

God has shown me all along he is watching over me and helping me to be not only a better mom and wife but hopefully a better person. Somehow in my story, I pray somebody can be encouraged.  I won’t necessarily blame my mom for what wasn’t “right” while growing up because I have learned from the things that I disagreed with and I decided to do the opposite. No matter what life throws at you, you can make lemonade. 

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Laura Jackson

Laura Jackson is thankfully employed in Southern California while completely loving being a grandma!

Finding Beauty in the Barrenness, Guest Writer: Dora

I grew up taking care of all 6 of my younger siblings. I was the protector and nurturer for them in ways I didn’t even know how, yet I managed. Growing up, my parents where always working to provide for our family of 9. We were young and close in age, left alone to raise ourselves up during the most crucial times of a child's life. Never did I ever think that I wouldn’t be able to have kids of my own. After getting married at a young age, starting a family was no where close to the forefront of my mind. I still needed to finish high school first.

 Who would’ve thought that things would’ve taken a turn for the worst after a few months of marriage.  My body was changing and nothing could explain it. I had gained a significant amount of weight in a span of 3 months. Like 5-6 pant sizes. I lost my menstrual period & no doctor could explain why but default to putting me on the pill. My hair was thinning uncontrollably and it felt like a mental battle just trying to get out of bed. I sought out a couple of doctors that left me feeling confused when no one had answers for me. “I don’t know why you don’t have a period and why you can’t get pregnant,” they shrugged. After frustrating doctor appointments and ultrasounds, a fear that I’ve never had began to sink in, “What if I can’t ever have kids?”

I remember so vividly the day that I walked out of my infertility specialists office. I felt relieved finally being diagnosed with PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome) after years of trying to figure out what was going on with my body- yet also feeling so broken. On my way home, my mind began to flood with the questions and doubts I had about Gods plan for me. 

I always dreamt of being a mom someday but didn’t realize that there was a possibility of facing any hardships until that day when I was faced with reality. Who would’ve thought? I came from a family of 7 kids at the time now 8,  and my husband, a family of 7 as well. We never ever thought that  growing a family was going to be a battle. We didn’t know anyone at the time that had experience or shared in our emotions. We were wrecked with sadness & grief. I don’t remember how long after but I recall an exact moment when I felt God asking me to surrender. Surrender the idea of having a baby, the desire to be a mother, & the brokenness of my body. Quite honestly, I reacted with anger towards God. I plead with God asking Him why He would ever allow something like this to stop us in our path?

On the hardest days where I felt incomplete and broken as a whole woman, I could still cry out to God and remember the promises He’s left for me to meditate and cling to. Believing that He has a purpose and plan to all things whether I understood it or not. But if I wasn’t careful at that time, I would’ve fallen into the grips of being consumed by the vicious cycles of doing everything I could possibly think of to “make” myself pregnant. Then it made sense. I began to understand why He was asking me to surrender & let go of my desire for a child. If I wasn’t careful, I would’ve chased after all the skeptical treatments and medications and filled up my time with research and fall into an endless hole of disappointment & discontentment. Living with no purpose, hope, or joy. Idolizing motherhood & pregnancy.

In that moment of clarity, I made the hardest decision ever. I decided to give up and surrender my dream of becoming a mom. I chose Jesus instead. I grieved the idea of an un-conceived child. You could not understand the pain I felt as I walked toward the foot of the cross with my precious dream wrapped up in a bundle. Laying it before Him and fully giving Him the authority to do what He will with it. In my weakness, He is made strong. This is true. He has carried me through this journey of barrenness for 8 years now. And what I didn’t realize was that when I had chosen to give up my broken heart & dreams to the Lord, He traded it for joy & strength. 

There are still days where I find myself asking God again, “how much longer do I have to wait Lord?” Yet, He is faithful to remind me, “In due time My child. I have something special I’m birthing inside of you. Hold on.” 

Years later, I realized something that God was birthing in me: to speak up & share my story. To build community and encourage others. That was no easy task. Being bi-cultured, there was a crippling fear that enabled me to confidently share these revelations with the world for years. He provided opportunities for me to share with people who came through my life & eventually, the wound became a scar that could be shown for all to see. The Lord began to birth in me, a heart for women & couples who were also treading a similar journey as ours. This is where my blog was born. A safe space to share not just my story but hopefully someday, the stories that God has etched on everyones heart. Stories of suffering, waiting, hoping, & stories of miracles and healing.

If you’re in a season of waiting, whatever it may be, just know that God has something beautiful planned out for you. It’s going to take some time, but do not forget that great things do take time.

Only God can heal our aching hearts & fill the invisible empty spaces inside us. Through our hope in Jesus, we are made whole again. Restoration and healing will look differently for you than it does for me but it’s possible. He has given me a mother-like heart to now enable love, care, & nurture children in my community, around the world, and to every soul that walks into my life. He is making all things new in His time and teaching me to live with joy amidst my suffering. He wants to be the light that radiates through you unto others who’ve felt the same way. 

He is showing me the Beauty of Barrenness.

Getting too Comfortable in Grief and Needing More Color, Guest Writer: Whitney

Loss made me very comfortable.

It was August 24th, 2015 when I got the call from my brother informing me that my father was gone. I felt the sting of empty promises and no goodbye. My father had slipped away and all the while I was in a parallel universe on the west coast shopping for wedding venues and preparing for my wedding.

When I got the call, I knew he was gone from the tone of my brother’s voice. I told my fiance beforehand that I would like to be alone with him when I got the news. So there we waited, and then the call came and my world crashed in on me. Before I knew it I was on a plane, picking out flowers and a casket, back on a plane, and back to “normal”. But I wasn’t normal. I was shattered but I was pushed by the currents of life to move on. Grief is not an emotion to be left on its on own and shut behind closed doors, or it becomes fear, depression, and anger.

It’s been 3 years, and with time the pain did fade and I was able to return half-heartedly to what life was. I did move on and come back but the world was more dull. However, this past year I began to realize I don’t wonder at what I can be in the world anymore. I don’t feel like giving effort. I became very afraid to lose again which in turn made outings with friends less invigorating, purpose more illusive, and taking risks became more impossible. I realized my life had become very safe and comfortable. I didn’t feel like pushing but I also felt very unhappy. Getting up and participating with life became too difficult. I kept asking myself What is wrong with you? Try harder! but still would struggle with wanting to face the day much less care about personal creativity and active participation with exciting opportunities. I now realize that I was in avoidance and despair. Once I realized I needed to have grace with myself I began to thaw out my icy heart.

I realized I needed color back in my life. I needed risk to feel alive. I needed to trust in my divine to feel a sense of purpose. I had closed my heart and hands down to pursuing dreams because I understood what could be snatched away in seconds or before you even know it is gone. After three years of living in the hamster wheel of living to work and working to live, I began to grow discontent. I began to be drawn to the reckless God-inspired dreaming of my youth. I began to miss passion and sacrifice. I didn’t want to repeat 17 year Whitney moving across the country but I was ready to embark on the deep joy of what God has in store for me without looking over my shoulder for tragedy.

Based on an article called Coping With Loss by National Institute for Health, there is a “course for grief”. They are Numbness, Pining, Disorganisation and despair, Reorganisation (NIH, 1198). I often found myself numb this year, coping with watching social media but not contributing, backing away from relationships, and being too tired for opportunities to lead with strength. The article states that avoidance of grief leads to chronic grief which in turn wreaks havoc on the human body, mind, and soul. Which course of grief do you find yourself in today?

The key for walking through my course of grief has been solely the love of my community pushing me to see life in color again, to trust again, and my God, who has never left my side despite despair.

You love and you lose. Loss can be crippling but you can experience the full joy of life again without the fear of tragedy. You can do this by realizing you may be checking out and coping and also recognizing your course of grief, giving yourself grace, and surrounding yourself with a community that can walk through this phase with you. This is what I am trying to teach myself, it isn’t me or you, it’s us.

We are getting through loss together.

I am ready to come back to the world of adventure and risk.

I am ready to uniquely give what I was created to give to this world. I still have fear but I will live in courage, and life will have moments of terrible grief but also incredible heights of beauty. I want all that life can give to me.

I am ready to trust in God’s purpose for my life, that he is in control and that I am not spinning toward chaos but true purpose and eternity.

Have you ever felt the same? If so, let’s share together- let’s be community. As always live for today, and shine on for tomorrow’s world. I have linked the article referenced above, feel free to review and see the course of your grief!https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1112778/ 

Moving Forward and Away From Regret for Good, Guest Writer: Veronica Joy

“Why, my soul, are you downcast? 

Why so disturbed within me?

 Put your hope in God,

 for I will yet praise him,

 my Savior and my God.”

Psalm 43:5

Jesus was a man of many sorrows; He was acquainted with the deepest of grief (Is. 53:3). Then it should be of no surprise that my journey has in many ways been acquainted with grief as well. If we are to become like Jesus, then the potter will use many of the same things to mold and shape us. It is not a journey I would have chosen for myself, but it is the one the Lord has used.

I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death many times, but the deaths that have been the most profound were the losses of most of my family of origin. It all began on a crisp New York day in February, when I was escorted to my home by a neighbor. As I entered the house, I heard the most painful cry I have ever heard then or since it was the wailing of my mother at the loss of her son. It was my brother Bobbie, he died in a car accident, and they said he was dead on arrival, no chance at life at the tender age of 13. He was my best friend. It was at this time that I realized that God was real, I felt His presence in tangible ways, even though I didn’t know Jesus, Jesus knew me (Psalm 139:13-16). Then I lost my father he was 50, a heart attack due to a drug overdose. Five years later my mother died she was only 50 also; she died the slow death of lung cancer. Anyone who ever has lost a mother knows how painful this is. I have a picture etched in my mind of the last time I saw her. I knew I would never see her again. I wanted every last moment with her, so I watched as her car drove away, and then I collapsed into my husband arms. I wish I could say it was over, but it was not.  It was many years later around a week before Christmas when I received a phone call in the middle of the night. My brother Bernie then age 43 died of a sudden heart attack. And the most recent loss is my sweet sister Vinnie. We had been on this life journey together from childhood, through weddings and babies; through life and death, we were two peas in a pod. I held her as she lay dying and told her it was okay to leave and be with Jesus, but in my heart, I did not want her to go. I go through my history to let you know I am surely acquainted with grief.  

Two ways that we can navigate this path in victory is to “Put your hope in God” and only to be “acquainted” with grief. I love that Jesus was acquainted with grief; in other words, He did not live there. Therefore, you and I must PASS through because God never intended us to live there. One way in which we can become trapped in “the valley of grief” is through regret. It’s the, could of, should of, would of’s, that dance around our heads that can cause persistent pain. The Word tells us that we are to forget what lies behind and we are to strain forward to what lies ahead (Phil. 3:13).  While we will never forget the people, we love. We can leave behind the intense sorrow.  We can honor them by pressing forward and living our lives to the fullest. We can do the things that they would have done and make the most of every moment, and as Scripture states, we can “redeem the time” (Eph. 5:16-18). One practical way we can redeem our sorrow is by caring for those important to our departed loved one. We can redeem our sorrows by giving to causes they supported.

There are many creative things we can do.The regrets are painful and can haunt us. I want you to:

1. Be gentle with yourself

2. “Put your hope in God.” Go to the Lord and pour out your heart. Tell the Lord all the things you wish you had said or done, leave it with the Lord

3. Ask the Lord to remove the regret so you can be free. The truth is that we will have an opportunity to say and do all of these things in the future because you will see your believing loved one again

4. Ask God to fill you with the fruit of His Spirit. Ask for the fruit of JOY because this is where your strength lies! (Neh. 8:10)

Sometimes regrets come in the form of estrangement, or being separated by the miles. Maybe because of this separation you did not do what you feel you ought to have done. There are some things we just have to let go of because we are not perfect, we have all fallen short and belonging to Jesus means He has this covered. Turn to Him and ask Him to remove this burden from you. He does not want you to live in guilt and shame.

Of most importance is the renewing of your mind in the area of grief. Do not allow the lies of the enemy to capture you. Instead, trust in God’s truth. The truth is that God will redeem all things, which mean that He will redeem all the mistakes we have made along the way. In Psalm 84:6 we are told that we are responsible in the process of grief to dig wells as we pass through the “Valley of Baca.” The Valley of Baca is a real location that had balsam-trees that would weep white drops from its branches. Baca means weeping, so as we weep we are living through an experience that God can use to love others who are passing through the “Valley of Baca” in their own time (2 Cor. 1:3-5). 

Judgment Doesn't Relieve Pain but Kindness Helps, Guest Writer: Johanna

Even now, 14 years later, I still think back on the moment and cringe.It was 2005, and Hurricane Katrina had just ravaged its way through New Orleans and the Gulf Coast.The communities were collectively mourning the loss of life and the widespread destruction, and my best friend was lamenting the tragedies that occurred.In response, I made a flippant comment minimizing the devastating losses – as a Florida native I had seen lots of minor hurricanes.But I had never lived through a major storm, and I foolishly assumed the damages were similar. I didn’t understand the true grief the people were facing, and in my inexperience and ignorance, I discounted a pain that I did not understand.

I felt almost instant shame after my remark – but, that moment turned out to be an unexpected turning point in my life.For perhaps the first time, I realized the huge damage we do when we minimize pain that we do not understand.Attitudes like mine in response to Katrina – when you assume something can’t possibly be as bad as you hear because you have never personally experienced it – are so destructive.But it was a short moment in my life that kicked off a quest to learn, to grow, and to give kindness to hurting people, regardless of whether I not understand their pain.

In 2010, I felt loss in a very personal way when I miscarried my first pregnancy.I was the first of my friends to be pregnant, and the thrill of carrying life was all consuming and exciting.But then, the spotting started.When I walked into my ultrasound appointment at 10 weeks, I knew the news would not be good.The doctor kindly held my hand, walked me through my options, and told me there was no heartbeat.

And while I had learned to give empathy and gentleness to others around me, I had not yet learned the lesson of extended that same kindness to myself. On Friday, I spent 12 hours in a hospital bed, sobbing into my sheets.  On Saturday, I put on a pencil skirt and a brave face and attended an event.  On Sunday, I walked into church only to walk back out again at the sight of a baby dedication.  On Monday, I sat in my office, staring numbly at a computer screen.  Three days later on Thanksgiving, I cried sitting at a full table and staring at mashed potatoes and turkey.  My body didn't heal for months.  Probably because I gave it very little care.  My heart didn't heal for longer.  Probably because I gave it even less care.

When in 2015, my cousin and best friend (Denise) came to me with an idea to create a gift box company to care for hurting people, it was divine timing.At the time I was experiencing an intense personal struggle and giving kindness to myself and others were at the forefront of my mind.It is no coincidence that laurelbox grew during a bitter season of loss in my life.But this time, I gave myself grace during the struggle.

I can look back now and see how the journey to learn kindness for myself and others has so clearly prepared the path for laurelbox.Our gifts are guided by a main principle – remind others they are loved and not alone.Whether you are in the midst of a struggle, or you are navigating your respond to a friend who is in grief, let your response be marked by openness and grace.We do not have to understand someone’s loss to react kindly to them in their grief.As I have learned in my own life, judgement rarely relieves someone’s pain.

One of my favorite quotes by Gail Caldwell succinctly sums up this journey – “I now know that we never truly get over great losses.Instead they carve us into kinder, often more gentle creatures.”

The Things I Would Have Said in a Clearer Mind 10 Years Ago

What I wish I could have said 10 years ago with a clearer mind and more time,

When we knew we were losing you and we had to say goodbye,

While you sat there pouring out your heart, and I sat there falling fast apart,

You could see past the tears and into my future, knowing how much would change,

I couldn’t see past our holding hands, knowing all I wanted was to turn life’s page.

What I wish I could have said 10 years ago with a clearer mind a more time,

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Thank you for being an example of love, selflessness, joy, and bravery,

Thank you for teaching me about God, friendship, fitness, and health,

Thank you for giving me your squinty eyes, it’s an honor to be half of you,

Thank you for making me feel like I could pursue whatever and be whoever I wanted,

What you’ve given me is priceless and can’t fully be put into words.

But, what I wish I could have said 10 years ago with a clearer mind and more time,

When we knew we were losing you and we had to say goodbye,

I will miss you for the rest of my life and while It doesn't feel like we got you very long,

I am just lucky to have had you as my mom.  

When They Are No Longer a Phone Call Away

So you use to talk on the phone alot, or a little?

Maybe for a reason, or for no reason at all.

How’s your day?

Guess what?

You’re not going to believe this!

I miss you!

See you soon!

Thank you mom!

Thank you dad!

How do you cook ____?

Can you help me with_____?

Just wanted to say hey.

One of the most common things I hear people grieve after they experience the death of their loved one, is not being able to call them. It’s the weirdest feeling.

If you haven’t experienced this, imagine a street you drive everyday.  Now imagine that it’s gone. Their texts and calls, your texts and calls to them are programmed not only in your phone but in your mind.

When I got a cell phone at 17, shortly after I moved out, my mom became consistent at “good morning” texts. It made me feel connected and made me feel like she was never out of reach. It was simple, yet anchoring. Her texts became a routine part of my day, like brushing my teeth.

I can’t tell you the amount of times during my first year after her death, that I went to grab the phone to tell her something or to see how she was feeling. Sometimes it took my breath away, sometimes it was embarrassing, and sometimes I just wanted to chuck the phone (let’s be honest).

The feeling of forever not being able to communicate with her was incomprehensible to my body and mind.

When something new, good, or hard happens in our life we want to connect and share that moment or information with someone. Usually someone we trust and feel seen by. I believe that’s the way we’re created, it’s in all of us. You don’t have to experience the death of someone to know that. It could happen in a break up or a divorce.

So, this isn’t an article on how to identify triggers that make you want to pick up your phone and connect with your loved one who for a split second, still felt like they were alive. Why is it not that kind of article? Because it is your road to process, and because 99% of the time the triggers are a surprise. I’m sorry.

The moments I just wanted to get my mom’s advice on something or ask her how she made her popular bread, I’d want to yell at the top of my lungs.

You’re not alone if you’ve called your loved one’s cell phone to hear their voicemail.

You’re not alone if you haven’t deleted their phone number out of your cell.

Mostly, just please know that you’re not alone.

It’s not just in your head, in your heart, or a matter of self control or strength to remember that they’re gone and that you can’t call them. It is so much more.

It is rewiring months, years or however long you had with them of habits, patterns and memories. Our brain has a lot of work to do after we experience the death of a loved one as what we once knew as normal disappears.

The next time you reach to grab your phone out of second nature to call your loved one, will you close your eyes, take a breathe, and say out loud what you were going to say to them?

Afterwards, either share the moment with a trusted friend, journal it, or tell me here on the Healing , Hope & Wholeness website. They may not be on the other end of the phone, but we are.