GPS Hope

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Celebrating One Year in the Hope Mobile!

This month is very special: It’s the one-year anniversary of GPS Hope being a completely transportable national ministry!

What a journey this has been, both figuratively and literally! Learning how to live in a 420 square foot house on wheels full-time, to be able to offer support and resources to grieving parents, has been both interesting and rewarding.

First was the downsizing. Um, yeah… taking 35 years of married and family life and deciding what was going with us, what was being stored, and what we were parting ways with, was a huge project. Every drawer, every closet, every box and bin, the garage, the basement, the attic, the shed… every nook and cranny had to be picked apart and decisions made. Good thing I found the Kan Marie method before tackling all of that!

On October 24th, I followed my husband, Dave, with the car to our local RV shop to have them add the tow dolly onto the motor home. They had Dave watch them hook everything up and then directed me as I drove the car up onto it. Now, instead of 38 feet long, we were 58 feet in length. 

With no chance for Dave to practice, we pulled out for the first leg of our six-month trip. And let me say I have been amazed and super impressed at how well Dave drives and maneuvers this thing!

I distinctly remember sitting in the passenger seat, looking behind me, and thinking how surreal it was that Dave was driving our house! (And even after a year, I still feel that way most of the time.)

Many of you have asked how this first year has been, living full-time in a motor home. Honestly, the transition went even better than we thought it would and it has been an extremely rewarding year!

But even though this first year in the Hope Mobile has gone great, I realize there are three things that got lost in the transition that I need to get back into my life, which will make this next year even better. I figured I would share them with you, just in case anyone reading this could use the encouraging reminder of making room for these things in your life as well.

Please note: If you are a grieving parent in those first few years, remember that we are several years down the road on this grief journey, which means we have fought our way out of the worst of the pain and darkness of the earthly loss of our daughter. It will probably take lots of time and persistence, depending on where you are in your own journey, to implement needed things back into your life.

#1. Know that there are times it’s okay to just rest

We need to realize that just like someone who has had major surgery has to have time to do nothing but rest and recover, we need to rest and recover from the “surgery” of our child being cut off from us, or whatever deep loss has come our way. And it isn’t a matter of “getting the victory” over it (which I felt guilty in the past for not being able to do, in grieving the death of my daughter, Becca – crazy isn’t it?).

Experts say that parents who have had their child die have been through a trauma, and many of us have PTSD, based on the circumstances of our child’s death. That means we need lots of rest. So, if you feel like you just can’t function, that’s okay and normal. Take it easy and give yourself lots of grace.

It is easy for me to convince myself that people are counting on me, so I must stay on top of making sure I have helpful content and stay consistent with what I put out there to give pareavors hope, not giving myself the same grace that I tell others to give to themselves.

I need to remember I am in this for the long-haul, and that keeping up with doing things the “right way” (taught by experts on the business side, which every ministry has) doesn’t always work for the unique ministry of GPS Hope. There are simply times I need a break for my own grief or need a time of rest to be able to effectively minister to other pareavors in theirs.

I know you will totally understand why this blog came out late (and probably didn’t even notice that it did…) and give me grace for it. I need to get better at giving it to myself, and not think I have to push myself harder when I really need to just rest.

#2. Taking communion

When I had my little prayer room under the basement stairs (in the house we sold to my son), I kept matzo crackers and grape juice handy so that I could occasionally have a time of reflection of what the death of Jesus personally means to me, especially after Becca’s death.

It was always a meaningful time that often came with tears, as I allowed the Holy Spirit to remind me how deeply God loves me.

It is mind boggling that He came to this crappy world for the purpose of dying an excruciatingly painful and shameful death, so that I would not have to be permanently separated from Becca and eventually my other children, my grandchildren, Dave, our parents, my sister and others I love deeply. He also did it to set me free from the chains the enemy puts on me while here on this earth!

I brought the matzo crackers with me, and we always have grape juice, but I can’t think of a single time I have taken communion in the Hope Mobile. I definitely need to get back to doing this!

If you have never had your own personal communion time, thinking it must be served to you by church leadership, let me just say that idea cannot be supported anywhere in the Scriptures. I encourage you to use whatever you have available and allow God to minister to you in a deeply personal way as you remember His death, burial and resurrection through taking communion.

#3. Music

I am embarrassed to say this, but I just don’t turn on the praise or worship music like I used to. I know (and used to teach entire sessions in children’s ministry trainings) that God created music to be a pathway to our soul.

Music moves us, and music changes us. It affects our brains and our souls, which in turn effects our thoughts, our beliefs, and our emotions, which in turn affects our actions.

As you can imagine, our passion for supporting parents who have lost a child can be a heavy load as we walk with those who are in such a dark and painful place, especially as this is our full-time ministry. Dave and I have to continually make sure we do not get trapped back under that heaviness, so we can effectively offer hope and healing to the parents God connects us with.

Putting on uplifting music is one of the easiest and fastest ways to do this. Even though I have play lists on YouTube to help with this, I have not turned to music often enough, and looking back I can see there were times I should have.

Speaking of looking back, it has truly been an amazing year. Here are just some of the highlights:

  • One of our favorite things to do since living in the Hope Mobile has been to meet up with parents across the country and share a meal together. We are honored to be a safe place to hear their story, share their tears and laughter, and talk about how our children are probably excited that we finally met each other!
  • Speaking at both local and national events in places like North Carolina, Virginia, Florida, St. Louis, and here in Wisconsin. We were able to minister to literally hundreds of grieving parents, helping to guide them to a place of hope, light and purpose after the death of their child.
  • Adding “In Loving Memory” hearts on the Hope Mobile has also been a joy! We are so very blessed to take these children on the road with us so that anyone who sees our house on wheels also sees all the precious children who are still in the hearts of their parents. (We also have smaller hearts for many other loved ones who are no longer here on this earth.)
  • Starting the weekly Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast almost instantly became our greatest outreach, with hundreds listening to each episode. It takes several hours of both my and Dave’s time to put out each week but is so worth it, based on the amount of feedback we get on how a specific episode has helped a desperate parent. (These emails and comments have brought many tears and much rejoicing!)

Finally, Dave and I want to thank many of YOU for your support in time, talent, and resources. We’re so excited about the next six months as we prepare to pull out for the next 6,000 miles on October 17th, and we can assure you that your investment in GPS Hope is reaping incredible returns for the glory of God.

 

If you are a bereaved parent, you can have your child mentioned on the GPS Hope podcast, the week of his or her birthday. Just click here to send us the information. 

Would you like to follow us as we travel the nation in the Hope Mobile, giving support and resources to bereaved parents? Just submit your name and email  to get exciting updates.

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

Laura is a national keynote speaker and has also been a workshop speaker for events such as The Compassionate Friends and Bereaved Parents USA national conferences, along with being a guest on radio shows, podcasts and other media channels such as webinars with Open to Hope.

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

GPS Hope exists to walk with grieving parents through the suffocating darkness of child-loss, guiding them to a place of hope, light and purpose.
 We also support families, friends and coworkers who want to know how to support these parents both short and long-term.

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Finding the Real Us

Growing up, one of my favorite stories was The Velveteen Rabbit. In fact, I named one of my own stuffed bunnies Velveteen, and would often sleep with it at night. (I memorized a list of all my stuffed animals, and gave each one a turn sleeping with me, cuddled in my arms, so none of them would feel left out. I can still run through that list in my head, almost fifty years later. I will spare sharing with you the names of my 13 cuddle-mates…)

Just a few years ago, I found a beautiful condensed “read-aloud” version of the book, so I purchased it to be able to share it with my grandkids. When we moved into the Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) I had to go through a life-time collection of two shelves of children’s books, deciding which ones to get rid of and which ones to keep. Only eight of those books found a place in our house on wheels, and that copy of The Velveteen Rabbit is one of them.

In case you aren’t familiar with the story, this little “fat and bunchy” stuffed bunny with spotted brown and white velveteen fur and pink sateen ears, becomes a boy’s favorite toy, which he talks to, plays with, and of course cuddles with each night. The bunny thinks he is real, because the boy tells the nanny his beloved bunny is real when she thinks he is making too much fuss over a toy. Eventually, the boy becomes sick with scarlet fever, and the well-worn and much-loved bunny is taken with the bedding to be burned. A real tear trickles down the face of the bunny, which immediately grows a flower with a fairy in it. Because the bunny was so loved and was real to the boy, she turns the velveteen Rabbit into a real live bunny, to live with the others he met earlier who made fun of him for not being real.

Looking back, I had no idea what the meaning of that story would have to me, after the death of our oldest daughter, Becca.

Let me share an exchange in the nursery between the wise old Skin Horse and the Rabbit.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day…

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you… It doesn’t happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time… Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.” (The Velveteen Rabbit by Marjorie Williams)

There are several similarities in this story, to my journey of being a pareavor  (a parent who has been bereaved of my child).

• It reminds me that working through our grief is a process; a journey. And it definitely doesn’t happen all at once. It takes a long time… years, as a matter-of-fact.

• “He hasn’t got any hind legs! He doesn’t smell right!” the wild rabbit exclaimed, jumping backwards. “He isn’t a rabbit at all! He isn’t real!” This is the reaction the live rabbits had one day when Rabbit was on the ground while his boy played. I don’t know about you, but many of us feel like the people around us just don’t get it. They don’t validate our loss, because we are so different than they are. They hop away and leave us, not understanding why we are the way we are.

• It is a story of going from being ugly to being real; from being who I was, thinking I was “real,” to being who I am now, on the other side of the suffocating darkness after Becca’s death. As I came out of the darkness and back into a place of hope and light, I began to see myself differently and I began to see others differently, along with a depth I didn’t have before. And that is a good thing.

• The Velveteen Rabbit is also a story of hope. He went from a place of devastation and being thrown away as useless to becoming real. I certainly felt devastated and totally useless. I felt like my soul died when my daughter died. But I didn’t stay that way. And you won’t either.

In order to become “real,” like the velveteen Rabbit, we have been taken through a very ugly place. And just like he was taken to a community of other bunnies, we are a community. We are a bunch of broken wounded people, doing life together. We are now traveling with each other on this journey, where we can learn how to become our best self and to become more real than ever before, within the pain and deep earthly loss of our children, not in spite of their death, but because of their life.

The book ends with the boy playing outside the following spring, seeing a rabbit that looks very much like his stuffed bunny that was destroyed.

But he never knew that it really was his own Bunny, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be Real.

Our children gave us a great gift. The gift to become truly real. I know so many parents who are much further on this journey than I am, who have said they would not want to go back to being the person they were before their child died.

Why would they say that?

Because our child changed us. Both their life and their death.

We tend to look at how dark our life became after their departure, but there are also ways we have grown and are growing (or will grow), because of our brokenness. For me, I tend to not fret over the smaller things as much as I used to. I am much more aware of the present moment, knowing that is really all I have. My compassion for those who are hurting is way more than it ever used to be.

And because Becca had life, there are things she did that taught me something or showed me the way to being a better person, such as watching how she had a way of accepting everyone (whether she agreed with them in life choices and opinions or not) and how she was able to bring so much laughter while she was deathly ill her last 18 months. And watching Becca live life with only one leg and not letting it limit her, gives me motivation to push through my own difficulties instead of giving in to the obstacles that come my way.

How about you? Some of you may not have gotten to this point yet, because your child’s departure is still too fresh and your grief is still very dark and deep, but is there something you like better about yourself now since your child died? Is it easier to let go of toxic relationships? Are you more aware of what is really important in your life now? Are you now easily able to say “no” when people ask you to do something, when before you always said “yes?” Do you no longer feel guilty about putting your own needs first?

Here is another thought. We often talk about how we are forever changed because our child died, but I want to ask: How are you different now because your child LIVED? What are the new lenses your child’s life gave you, helping you to see the world with a different view than you had before?

As the wise old Skin Horse said: Once you become real, you can never become ugly again.

I would love to have you answer in the comments below this blog. What have you gained through your child’s death? What did your child’s life teach you?

We would like to send you the MP3 download From Pain to Purpose. This is a message Laura Diehl has given at several churches, sharing how God has a plan to take the deepest pain of the loss of your child, and restore your life to one of meaning and purpose once again, if we allow Him to.

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

Laura is a national keynote speaker and has also been a workshop speaker for events such as The Compassionate Friends and Bereaved Parents USA national conferences, along with being a guest on radio shows, podcasts and other media channels such as webinars with Open to Hope.

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

 

GPS Hope exists to walk with grieving parents through the suffocating darkness of child-loss, guiding them to a place of hope, light and purpose.
 We also support families, friends and coworkers who want to know how to support these parents both short and long-term.

 

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Is There Such a Thing as Grief Recovery?

Several years ago, in my searching for how to deal with my grief from the death of my oldest daughter, I came across an article called “Grief Recovery.” As I started reading it, I discovered it was for any kind of loss including jobs, moving, pet loss, death, divorce or any kind of breakup, starting school, etc.

It talked about how recovery is when we can have memories without the pain. I had a hard time reading it without getting angry. It is just impossible to compare grieving the death of a child to all these other things. I’m not saying those things are not painful and that there is not a level of grief involved, but this article was basically saying after you grieve the right way, you can move on with life and put the past behind you.

I might be able to move forward, but it isn’t by putting the death of Becca behind me! She will always be in front of me. Our children are our legacy. They are supposed to keep going when we leave this earth. Even if she isn’t with me anymore, I can’t leave her in my past and go on without her.

Even if we wanted to do so, the things that trigger us and remind us of our loss can come unexpectedly out of nowhere and bring back the memory, accompanied by unwanted pain once again.

I am a parent who took a lot of trips to the grave site for probably a year or more. One day while I was there, the med-flight helicopter flew over me. I totally lost it and found myself sobbing uncontrollably. Later, I wrote on Facebook about what had happened, and a friend told me it was a sign of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). I guess it made sense.

The last year and a half of Becca’s life she had around a dozen ambulance rides, because of her heart issues. For many, many months after Becca passed, whenever I heard an ambulance I would freeze in panic and my mind would immediately question, “Where is Becca?” And of course, there was always the realization of where she was, and the siren I was hearing was definitely not for her.

The first year of special dates is always difficult for anyone who has lost a loved one, but for a parent who has a child missing it can be almost unbearable. For us, Thanksgiving came first and brought with it the memory of how the year before, Becca had insisted on hosting the family, even though she was wheelchair bound. Then came Christmas, Becca’s favorite holiday, and then the pain of the first time she was not there to celebrate her birthday, and so on. Eventually it came around to the one-year anniversary of her death.

Everyone grieves differently, and I wanted to be sensitive to that. Some of the family wanted to get together and celebrate her life, and others didn’t want anything to do with that. I was torn, and to be honest I don’t even remember what ended up happening that first year for her birthday or the anniversary of her death.

The part I do remember, though, is a precious memory I now share with Becca’s daughter. That first year, my granddaughter asked what we were doing for her mom’s birthday. Knowing how some of the family did not want to do anything, I suggested I come to her school for lunch on that day and bring birthday cupcakes for the two of us. She was thrilled, and we continued doing it for a few years (until she hit Middle School).

What I wasn’t expecting was to have the second year be harder than the first! I see two reasons for this. First, I braced myself for those one-year markers. I knew they were going to be hard, so I tried to prepare myself for them mentally and emotionally. The second year it was more like I was caught off guard. I’ve been through this before; it should be better this year, I thought, so all of a sudden, those dates were here, and they just hit me like a brick wall.

Second, I was still in such a fog of unbelief the first year. So as the fog started to lift that second year, the loss was hitting me with full force. By the third year, it was more like a painful acceptance, trying to figure out how to live this new life without my daughter.

I feel like I need to say this to the parents who are still in deep grief. Do not look at any dates to see where I or others were emotionally in our grieving process and use it as some sort of a timeline to force on yourself. We are all on our own individual timeline and need to go through the process at our own speed. Yes, there are some “patterns” (for lack of a better word) that some of us seem to fall into, but don’t expect yourself to fit into that. Give yourself grace to walk your own necessary path. As long as you are putting one foot in front of the other, you will get there.

Grief recovery for a bereaved parent? No, not really. Yes, it is possible to get to the point where we can have memories without the pain. It happens gradually, but for the rest of our lives there will be times where the pain returns, because all we have are the memories of our child. The goal is to have that happen less and less, but it is naïve to think we will get to the point where we no longer feel pain within the memories and therefore have “recovered,” as the article I read suggested.

Like someone with an amputation, (which Becca had her leg amputated at three years old) we will never fully recover. But we can eventually learn how to live around it, adapting our life to that part of us missing.

If you don’t think it’s possible, that’s okay. Most of us thought the same thing, which is why we and others are here. We want to be that hope and light to you, like someone was to us.  So make sure you stay connected to those who are further down this path, who will always validate your painful loss, and share your memories, whether they come with tears, or a smile.

Do you find it hard to find ways to find comfort in grieving the death of your child? We would be happy to send you our list of thirty suggestions to bring ourselves comfort. Just submit your name and email address below.

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

Laura is a national keynote speaker and has also been a workshop speaker for events such as The Compassionate Friends and Bereaved Parents USA national conferences, along with being a guest on radio shows, podcasts and other media channels such as webinars with Open to Hope.

 

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

 

GPS Hope exists to walk with grieving parents through the suffocating darkness of child-loss, guiding them to a place of hope, light and purpose.
 We also support families, friends and coworkers who want to know how to support these parents both short and long-term.

 

 

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Losing a Grandchild

Most of us have a special place in our hearts for our grandparents. With six grandchildren myself (and number seven on the way), I can assure you the feelings are mutual. Grandchildren have a very special place in our hearts as well.

When a grandparent loses a grandchild from this earth, they get hit with a double whammy.  These precious grandparents face the personal loss of a big piece of their heart. But not only is there the intense pain of the hole in their heart that will never be filled, they have the added agony of watching their own child be plunged into an abyss of darkness, and there is nothing they can do about it.

Up until last summer, my husband and I were blessed to have all four of our parents still here on this earth. (Dave’s dad passed last July, and my dad passed last month), so all four of them were still here on earth when Becca died.

I am thankful I asked them a couple of years ago to share their thoughts with me about losing their granddaughter, because I have heard from several grandparents lately (some of them are the ones who found GPS Hope and connected their grieving adult child to us), and now I can share their thoughts with other grandparents.

I hope and pray their words bring hope and encouragement to any grandparents who have lost a grandchild and are reading this.

I’ll start with my mom. The death of my daughter, Becca, has caused me to lean on her, more than I ever have in life. And thankfully, she has been more than willing to allow me to do so.  The bond between a mother and daughter is a special one, and I praise God for the mom He has given to me.

Through all the things our family went through over the years, it was so hard to see my dearly loved, first grandchild, struggle, time after time after time.  But in some ways, it was even more difficult to watch my own daughter deal with crisis after crisis with Rebecca.  The worst was to stand by and see my precious daughter’s deep grief at the loss of her precious daughter, as she has tried to learn how to cope and adjust to that reality.

 How did I deal with all of this?   I cried and I prayed a lot, clinging to the only One who can really bring any comfort at a time like this.  I am thankful for the One who can express my heart to the Father, when I don’t really even know how to pray (per Romans 8:26). 

As the years go by, I see more and more glimpses of beauty coming from the ashes, gladness instead of mourning, and praise instead of the spirit of despair (to paraphrase Isaiah 61:3).   Life will never be the same, and there will always be sad moments, but life for the most part can become joyful and happy again.  And that is the way that Becca would want it.

My dad was a pastor and a traveling evangelist in my growing up years, and his heart to see people come to know the love of Christ was deeply imbedded in him, even in his years of being home-bound with Parkinson’s. His thoughts have been on heaven for quite some time, even more so after his granddaughter went on ahead of him.

I am approaching this from a Christian’s point of view. Death is completely different when a Christian dies then when a non-Christian dies. I have experienced the emotion of both.

When we die in Christ, do we really die? The Scriptures tell us that we are alive in Jesus. We just leave this earth. We close the door to this earth and open the door to heaven to be with Jesus.

 Death can be bittersweet, because we always hate to lose the ones we love. It’s especially hard on the mother of a child. It’s hard on all of us. But for me, I try to look past the death, and see where she (Becca) is today. Death is one thing all of us are going to face. Each one of us is going to die, and we know there is nothing we can do about it. It is actually part of living.

 One of these days, and it might not be too long, I’m going to get to see her again. And I’m going to be able to walk around heaven with her, and with my other loved ones and friends I haven’t seen for many years who have gone there. I am going to get to see them again. And that will be a blessing.

And finally, some thoughts from my in-laws. Dave’s dad was a pastor for several years as well, and they were also missionaries in Poland and Australia after he retired. So they have seen a lot and have a strong faith in God through these tough times as well.

When you see your children struggle, you struggle, too, and you pray for them. It increases your prayer life. It’s hard watching them struggle with it. We just pray and help them through it.

When you get older, you look at it a little differently. I’m blessed to know that even though here, death separates us from our loved ones, up there, even death cannot separate us. I look forward to that, because I’ve got lots of ‘em up there. Knowing I am going to see them again softens the pain, but every time it leaves a mark.

 What’s that song we used to sing? When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be! We’ll get to see all the loved ones we’ve lost and we’ll get to see all of those we read about in the Bible and I get to see my Jesus. To me, it will be the most exciting day of my life!

The thought of losing one of my grandchildren can almost terrify me if I allow it (thinking about both my own pain of that precious grandchild being gone and watching one of my kids going through the loss of one of their children). I am very thankful to have the views of mine and Dave’s parents, to remind me that this world is only temporary, and we will be with them again.

After the death of my dad last month, I wrote a song. It seems appropriate to share the chorus here with you:

A lifetime here is not enough for us to be together,

So God has made a way for it to be forever.

But until that day comes

I won’t make it through by letting go,

But holding on tight to the memories I treasure.

This is not good-by, I’ll see you later.

If you would like to listen to Laura sing Together Forever click here.
The quotes from Becca’s grandparents were taken from the book From Ring Bearer to Pallbearer: Giving a Voice to Bereaved Siblings and Grandparents. If you would like a free PDF copy of this book, just click this link.

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

Laura is a national keynote speaker and has also been a workshop speaker for events such as The Compassionate Friends and Bereaved Parents USA national conferences, along with being a guest on radio shows, podcasts and other media channels such as webinars with Open to Hope.

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

GPS Hope exists to walk with grieving parents through the suffocating darkness of child-loss, guiding them to a place of hope, light and purpose.
 We also support families, friends and coworkers who want to know how to support these parents both short and long-term.

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Year One, Year Two, Year Three and Beyond

 

Any loss takes time to process and work through. The loss of a loved one can take weeks, months, and years. The loss of a child takes a lifetime.

Grief has its own individual path for each person. We may often hear the words, “There is no right or wrong way to grieve,” and yet much of society shouts the exact opposite to those who are in deep mourning.

We are asked when we are going to “get over it,” or are told we need to let our child go and start moving forward. This can make us angry and add to the painful confusion, making one wonder, “What’s wrong with me, that I am taking so long to be able to function again?” So, we put on a mask, to keep people around us from knowing what a mess we still are, months and even years later.

What most people don’t realize, is that most experts consider the death of one’s child traumatic grief, and that up to five years can be considered “fresh” grief. And as grieving parents, we need to know this; that it’s okay if you are still barely functioning or are unable to go out and “have fun” with friends, or attend painful family events that your child should have been part of, years after the loss.

You may be interested to know that as I started hearing from other bereaved parents in the first couple of years of my journey, I discovered there does seem to be an underlying generic time-frame that many of us pareavors sort of fall into.

The first year is a painful fog, full of numbness, confusion, pain, and disbelief. All the “firsts” hit us hard. The first time he or she is not with us for each holiday or yearly family event, the first year they are not here for their birthday and of course, the first anniversary of their death.

I thought the second year would be easier, because I had already gone through everything once. As pareavors just starting out on this horrific journey, we don’t think it is even possible, but the second year of being without our child is usually worse than the first year. I hope that is not the case for you, but I want to be up front and honest that it is a strong possibility.

Why does that happen to so many of us?

Well, for me personally, that first year I braced myself for all the “firsts,” plus I was still in that fog of trying to figure out if this had really happened. The second year caught me off guard as the fog began to lift. Round two of all those yearly events no longer had the blessing of numbness to block the full depth of the pain. When that initial shock finally wore off, it caused the weight of my loss to hit me full force, with a heaviness and darkness that left me wondering if I would ever get through it. I remember thinking how desperately I wanted the pain to end, afraid that it never would.

The third year for many of us becomes more livable. We are starting to accept the finality and painful fact that our child will never again be with us at any of these events. We are starting to resign ourselves to the fact that no matter how much it hurts, we must figure out who we are without our child. Some of us even begin to see glimmers of hope; that we can still have joy and happiness in the life we are living with those who are still here whom we love, and who love us.

After saying all of that, I also want to emphasize that we are all on our own individual journey.

Unfortunately, there many parents who are stuck in the second-year level. They take many more years to get to the place of painful acceptance, which is necessary to be able to start building their new normal in a way that brings peace, joy, love and laughter back into their lives. For instance, I personally know someone who waited over four years before they could even bring themselves to have a tombstone made for their child’s grave.

Let me say it again, because it is so important. NO ONE is on the same timetable of grieving the death of their child.

Do not look at any dates to see where others were emotionally in our grieving process and use it as some sort of a timeline to force on yourself. We are all on our own individual timeline and need to go through the process at our own speed. Yes, there are some “patterns” (for lack of a better word) that some of us seem to fall into, but don’t expect yourself to fit into that. Give yourself grace to walk your own necessary path. As long as you are putting one foot in front of the other, you will get there. (When Tragedy Strikes.)

How close you were (or weren’t), how he or she died, their age at death and so many other things all play a factor in how you grieve and how long it takes to be able to function again, much less actually learn how to live with your child being “amputated” from you.

Even within this three to five year “acceptance” range, we are all different, including those of us who are “early” or “late.” Here are what a few others have to say about their journey and this “three year” timeline:

 

  • Four years later, I still struggle with these feelings, but not on a daily basis.
  • I just passed anniversary number 5. For me, year 1 -I hardly remember anything, mainly a fog. Year 2 (for me) was worse. The numbness was gone. It was real. It was crushing. I survived day-to-day. Year 3 -I started feeling some joy again. Able to go a few days without crying. Year 4 – still painful, but more like a slap than a body-slam.
  • At first, I experienced waves of grief that crashed over me throwing me prostrate to the floor in agony. After 3-4 years it was mostly a gentle longing with times of intense pain and feelings of loss.
  • I honestly couldn’t tell you anything about the first 2 years. Year 3 things began to get a little better. Lord knows I still cry every day. Year 4 I smiled again. Real smiles not forced ones. And just over the past few months I have finally begun to feel happiness.
  • Year 2 is worse. But I am intentionally seeking Joy and now I’m halfway through the second year. I think I can see Joy every now and then although it is still a ways ahead of me yet.
  • Sadly, the only way to ‘get past this’ is to go through it!! I am broken now in a place that will never heal. But I do find that I can laugh more than I used to, but I define my life ‘before my son died’ and ‘after he died.’ The trick is to wake up every day and try to have a plan and a purpose.

In other words, whether you fit the “pattern” or not, you are in a normal place with your grief, and the right one for you.

Year one, year two, year three, year five, year ten, year twenty, the rest of this lifetime… and then comes our glorious reunion. And the best part? Each day we remain here on this earth doesn’t mean we are getting further away from our children, but that we are one day closer!

We all need to have our children’s lives acknowledged. On our weekly podcast, we love to share with our listeners the birthdays of our children. To have your child’s special and important day announced on the podcast the week of their birthday, fill out and submit the simple form below so that we have the needed information. (This will also allow us to send you our encouraging Weekly Word of Hope, which you can unsubscribe from at any time if you don’t find it helpful.)

 

Expressions of Hope is written by author, speaker and singer Laura Diehl. She and her husband, Dave, are the founders of Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). Dave and Laura travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, including being invited to hold one-day GPS Hope & Healing conferences.

Laura is a national keynote speaker and has also been a workshop speaker for events such as The Compassionate Friends and Bereaved Parents USA national conferences, along with being a guest on radio shows, podcasts and other media channels such as webinars with Open to Hope.

If you would like more information about Laura as a speaker for your next event or want more information on hosting a GPS Hope & Healing conference, click here.

GPS Hope exists to walk with grieving parents through the suffocating darkness of child-loss, guiding them to a place of hope, light and purpose.
 We also support families, friends and coworkers who want to know how to support these parents both short and long-term.

 

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