A butterfly coming out of the cocoon is a beautiful picture of how working our way out of bondage and darkness makes us so very strong.
As parents who have faced the death of our child, we are that butterfly in a cocoon. But many of us don’t even want to come out. And if we do, we often don’t believe coming out is possible, as we feel too weak to keep fighting. But fight, we must do. Some of the strongest, most caring people that I know are pareavors (bereaved parents) who have fought their way out of their cocoon of bondage and darkness.
They are also some of the most beautiful and loving souls I have ever met. Many of them have a deep passion for an unexpected purpose in life to help others. My friends, Dave and Dee, organize runs to bring awareness to heart failure and donate the proceeds to various community organizations. Anne goes into schools to talk about bullying, after her daughter died by suicide in a school bathroom. Kelly started professional training for medical staff on how to help parents in the hospital with infant loss at birth. The list could go on and on, including my becoming an author to help other grieving parents find hope, light and a fulfilled life again after the death of their child, and my husband and I starting an organization to do the same.
If you don’t know our story, it was actually a 26-year ordeal. But to simplify it in one sentence, our daughter, Becca, died at age 29 on October 12, 2011 from heart damage due to one of the chemo drugs she was given at age three (along with having her tiny left leg amputated at that time) as part of her treatment for cancer. (Click here to read the full story.)
The first two years after her death were 
a blur of suffocating darkness and confusion. (And the second year was worse than the first year, which seems to be pretty normal for those of us who have lost a child from this earth.)
The next couple of years I started doing a bit better, but the fifth year was another weepy one. That Christmas, my oldest son purchased some oysters to be opened live on Facebook, and the pearls inside were mine to keep as my Christmas present. It was so fascinating to watch them being opened and to see the gorgeous different colored pearl in each one. I ended up watching other people’s oysters being opened as well, and felt a drawing to watch more “oyster shucking” when I had the chance.
While waiting for my pearls to arrive in the mail one day, I found myself in tears thinking about how deeply touched I was to be able to have something tangible in my hands to remind me of the hope I have that God keeps His promises to take something so horrific, and somehow (as only He can) turn my shattered life into something of beauty that was still valuable and worth living!
Right then and there, I knew I wanted to find a way to give this same gift of this gorgeous symbol of the HOPE we have in Him into the hands of other pareavors.
I found myself writing something I wanted to give to those who decided to join me in having an oyster opened; letting them know the pearl inside is something we can look at, reminding us that even though it feels like it, we did not die along with our child.
Here is part of what I wrote.
You hold in your hand a priceless treasure. Yes, there is a monetary value placed on the pearl(s) you now possess. However, it is so much more…
…You have had something way beyond “an irritant” invade your life. You have had to face the death of your precious child. And now you have the opportunity to allow God to do a far greater miracle in you than He does in an oyster, which is to allow Him the time and tools needed to make something beautiful out of something so horrific. 
Yes, it can happen. Not only can it happen, but it will happen, if you allow the One who sees what you cannot see, and knows what you do not know to be at work, deeply hidden in your heart and soul, where no one else has access. He wants to use this tragedy to make you highly valued; a rare and valuable gem, glowing with His love and glory unlike anyone else on earth.
It took almost a year and going down several paths, but my dream of being able to offer this for others is now happening. Once a month, we have an oyster opening live on our GPS Hope Facebook page for anyone who wants a gorgeous pearl as a symbol of who they can become, after a deep tragedy, including the death of their child.
YOU are a precious and rare gem. You may not feel like it right now, but as you continue on your journey, you will realize that yes, you are still valuable. And for those of you who are pareavors, it is because of the deep love you have for your child, that you can have hope as to your rare beauty and value because of that never-ending love.
For more information on the Pearls of Hope event, click here. Note: You don’t have to be a bereaved parent to get in on it. Anyone can purchase an oyster to be opened just for the fun of it, or as a gift for someone who would appreciate watching their own oyster being opened knowing the beautiful pearl inside is theirs, or because you want to be part of bringing finances to help GPS Hope be able to reach out to more grieving parents.
Expressions of Hope is written by author and speaker Laura Diehl to bring hope, light and life to those struggling in darkness after a tragedy, especially bereaved parents. If you would like more information about Laura as an author or a speaker for your next event, click here.
GPS Hope exists to bring hope to parents who have suffered the death of a child, acknowledging their unique grief with support, connection and education for them and those around them.
And that includes hurtful things people say to us when we have faced a deep loss or tragedy in our lives. Some people can say some really stupid things, trying to “help us” or make us feel better, but in reality, it can make the pain even worse. 
person’s heart with their words. When words come your way, you have the right to do what you want with those words, including the right to guard and protect your heart. 
caused deep pain because of their words, is for you. You need it. Your heart needs it. You need to be able to move on with your life without the hurt festering in your heart, becoming mean and ugly! Make the choice to delete the comments from your heart’s hard drive, remove the virus it was trying to cause in your heart, and close that app.
mourning process. We cannot go around it. And it always takes so much longer than we want it to, or think it will. I remember two years in saying, “I just want to stop hurting so bad!”. Since that time, I have had several 
I was immediately embraced with warmth and love and acceptance. I felt like a long-lost sister! I am tearing up right now, just thinking about it.
and online groups to help pull me out of the suffocating darkness, but so much of what was out there was despair and hopelessness, telling me that life would never be the same and never be worth living. I had a hard time with that.
We recently had the blessing of spending some time with Speaker of the House, Paul Ryan. He was so very gracious, and thanked us for reaching out in our pain to other grieving parents. We were also able to make him aware of the Parental Bereavement Leave Act in committee right now, which is a needed amendment to the FMLA, allowing twelve weeks of unpaid leave for grieving parents (like it does when a child is born or adopted).
hope is all I have to hold on to, yet I cling to it like a drowning person to a life raft. I clench my hands around hope like a climber hanging by a thread on the side of a mountain; I hope for good. I hope for a future that’s not as dismal as my fears project. Jeremiah 29:11 promises that my future will be good, and I hold God to His Word. I mix faith with words and speak of good, not evil. I project hope into the future.
I choose to be confident in the goodness and faithfulness of God. What happened wasn’t God’s fault. It wasn’t because God failed. If I want to blame someone or something, I turn my anger on the devil. He’s the one who brings disease, destruction, and death, not God. God is the One who comforts me, strengthens me, helps me–daily, hourly, even minute-by-minute. He keeps me putting one foot in front of the other. He is faithful and trustworthy to be my light in the darkness, my peace in the storm, and my comfort in deep sorrow.
I lean into Romans 8:28 until it’s absorbed into my soul like healing ointment absorbed into a wound. I expect God to turn tragedy into triumph, no matter how horrible I feel or how bleak everything appears. I expect good from the goodness of God’s heart.
His tenderness and compassion, for giving me songs in the night, for the tears He sheds side-by-side with me, and for glimpses of the substantial reality of heaven and its glory. As I begin to give thanks, my eyes are opened to see that His blessings are more numerous than the sands on the seashore. But, I can walk blindly right past His blessings without noticing them, if I’m not cultivating a thankful heart.
It can make me cringe and feel sick to my stomach when I think about the possibility of people forgetting Becca. I don’t care so much if they remember me, but I want them to know who my children are when I am gone. I am guessing you are the same way.
to live in a way that honors the life of our child. Our grief is real. The suffocating darkness takes over, and we have no choice. But at some point (often two or three years down the road) we see a glimmer of hope that we actually can have a full life beyond the death of our child. When we begin to realize that, we have a choice to make. Am I going to live out my life in a way of hopelessness and despair that honors the death of my child, or am I going to find a way to rise above this darkness and live my life in a way that honors the life of my child?
can go to remember your son or daughter; a place that will help you reflect on memories of their life, as opposed to being in a cemetery (or staring at their ashes in an urn) which tends to cause more painful thoughts of their death.
Someday, all of us who are alive right now will be long gone, and eventually, no one will be left who knew us. But there are things we can do to make sure our children will be thought of and remembered by many, extending beyond our own lives when we leave this earth to join them.
