I received several emails from people who appreciated the first half of this article. I am glad it was helpful and hope the rest of it will be just as useful.  (If you missed it, click here to read it before continuing with the second half.)

I am going to start with the third suggestion, because I wasn’t quite finished. 

3. Feed your spirit and your soul (specifically through music and reading).

I already spent time covering music and reading, but I also want to say there are many other ways to do this.

• Being out in nature is another gift from God that has a way of soothing our soul and feeding our spirits.
• Journaling and/or coloring is highly recommended by grief counselors, and many parents find this to be a big help. (If you have never journaled, and don’t know where to start, consider getting My Grief Journey: A Coloring Book and Journal for Grieving Parents.)
• Spending time closed in with God is one that helped me the most, personally. I know many struggle with this one because of how angry they are with God. But He is the source of peace. Until we are able to turn to Him instead of away from Him, even in our anger, th e consistent peace we long for is going to elude us. (And if it helps any, peace doesn’t always mean the absence of pain. I have learned that peace and pain can live inside of me together.)

Now to continue with the last two on the list.

4. Release the guilt of not attending functions that are too difficult, no matter how long ago the loss has been.

There are going to be times when going to a joyful or celebration event is going to be a slap-in-the-face reminder that your child is not here; that he or she will not be part of something they should have been right in the middle of. This will continue for many years, such as a graduation, or a birth that would have made your child an aunt or uncle.

Once again, there are a couple of options here. I have found instead of making my absence about me, I let those hosting/attending know that my absence is about them. I don’t want to dampen or possibly ruin the celebration for them and those attending by how deeply I still love and miss my child.

The other option I have found that seems to surprise people, is to ask if there can be a way to include your child. Can a toast be made to your child (and possibly others who have also passed on and are missed)? Can there be a photo placed somewhere? Can a book be set on a table where those attending can write a memory or a note to your child, letting him or her know how much they are missed? Yes, there will probably be some moments of tears, but doing something like this can give a sense of relief, as it gives you the needed grace and permission to miss your child.

When I know my daughter will be acknowledged in some way, it helps bring a healing comfort in the midst of the pain to know others miss her too, and have not forgotten her. Will there be tears? Probably. Do I care? Not anymore. They are tears of a love that will never be quenched until I am with her again, and I don’t care if people around me understand that or not.

5. Connect with others who are ahead of you on this rocky road of grief who get it, and will walk with you in the darkness and be the light of hope you need.

When we see and know others who have faced the death of their child and not only survived, but are somehow living a life of meaning and purpose again, it gives us hope that somehow, it must be possible.

For almost two years, I didn’t want to go to any conferences that were for grieving parents. (I also didn’t go to any grief support groups, but that was because I didn’t know of any in my area.) I didn’t want to be around a bunch of people who were a mess like me, thinking we would just sit around all morbid, cry about our kids, and I would leave feeling worse than when I arrived.

I found the exact opposite to be true. It was wonderful and healing to be in a room full of people who were a mess like me. They “got it.” I didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. I didn’t have to feel guilty for laughing, or for a few tears that fell at strange times. It was an instant bonding with people I had never met, and I made life-long friends who are very precious to me.

A word of caution though. Make sure you are connecting with parents who will acknowledge your grief, but also be a light of hope that you can and will get past the suffocating darkness. We all know our lives will never be the same, but some parents are stuck in that darkness, and tell others behind them that they won’t ever get out, either. Keep looking until you find those who give you the hope you need.

As I said at the very beginning of this two-part article, the people around you are not going to understand. I sure didn’t know this depth of suffocating darkness even existed until Becca died. And I hope those around us never have to find out for themselves.

Unfortunately, there may be some who remain insensitive and continually pick at our open wound of grief, who will have to be shut out of our lives. Almost every bereaved parent I have met has said their circle of friends made a shift because of lack of understanding and support when it was needed the most. That isn’t always an option though, especially when it is someone in our family.  I pray these five suggestions will help you in a way that rises you above the painful conflict, to a place of rest and peace. And may you have hope that the light is not far away, because those of us who carry it, are walking with you.

If you would like a list of these five suggestions in a printable version you can put somewhere to see as a reminder, just let us know and we will get it right to you.

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.

Before I share the list, let me start out by telling you to stop feeling like you owe them an explanation in the way of excuses, as if you have some kind of disease. I didn’t put this in the list of suggestions, because it is something you must do for your own well-being. Not in an angry bitter way, but as something you must peacefully resolve within yourself.

They are not going to understand. How could they? I know I sure didn’t, until I was on this side of things.

So, with that being said up front, here are the first three things that I hope will help with this struggle we all seem to have for many years (possibly even the rest of our lives) after the death of our child.

1. Know that it’s okay to be real and lean into your pain when it grips you unexpectedly.

As I see it, you have three options. One: fight it, which is usually obvious and awkward for everyone. Two: excuse yourself and leave, either for a few moments to compose yourself, or for the rest of the event. Or option three: stay put and let those around you know that you are allowing them into a scared and vulnerable moment and the sacred space of missing your child.

There is no one right option. Each time will be different, and only you can determine which one is right for you at that moment. Just don’t be afraid to go for the third option. It might surprise you how supportive and caring someone might be, and you will have the blessing of having people allow you to share your child with them. 

2. Remind yourself that the death of a child is considered traumatic grief, and anything under five years is considered fresh grief.

It is normal to not be okay! For the rest of your life. A part of your very being has been severed from you. You will get to the point where you learn how to live with that part of you missing, but there are going to be constant reminders and limitations in your day-to-day life. Most people seem to understand that if a person has an amputation (like our daughter Becca had her leg amputated at age three because of cancer), that person will never be the same as before the limb was cut off from them.  We have gone through an amputation with the death of our child. But for some reason, those who have never faced the suffocating darkness of child loss don’t seem to understand that life for us will never be the same, just like an amputee.

3. Feed your spirit and your soul. 

There are so many ways of doing that. Two of them are through music and reading.

God created music to be a pathway to the soul. What we choose to listen to will affect our emotions and will either keep us in that place of deep grief and darkness, or help us see a glimmer of light and hope to take a step forward. I have made several lists on YouTube. When I find a song that makes me feel hopeful, I add it to my “hope” list, so these songs will play through when I struggle with feeling hopeless. I have a “peace” list, a list of songs that allow me to miss Becca, a list of just instrumental music, and so on.

I highly recommend that you do the same thing. Maybe have a list called, “Can’t sleep” with music (or people you like to hear teach) that you can play at night when needed. Once again, there is no right or wrong music, as long as it helps you take the steps needed for that moment with that struggle.

Maybe you aren’t a reader by nature, but reading is truly a great way to “meet” other bereaved parents who will confirm that you aren’t going crazy, that still being a mess is normal for someone who has lost a child, and that all of those things you are being accused of by the well-meaning people around you just aren’t true.

When Becca first died, I was hesitant to connect with others who were a mess like me. I thought it would make me worse. And unfortunately, there were some that I talked to who were stuck and told me I would always be a mess, and there were books I read that came across as though my life would never be worth living again. However, I refused to believe those things, and kept looking for those who would give me hope. And it turned out, they are out there. And now I am one of them, writing books to offer hope to other grieving parents who are looking for it, while still acknowledging the suffocating darkness that comes with the death of a child.

This is such a loaded topic, and we are only half way through. I hope you will look for the continuing article for the rest of the suggestions to help you deal with those in your life who think grief is a short event in time, instead of the life-long process that it is.

I hope you believe it is a blessing and a relief to know there are bereaved parents who want to connect with you, who have poured their heart and soul (and tons of hours) into writing books just for you.  I have a shelf full of these books.

The problem I discovered is figuring out things like, which ones were well written; which ones were based on things I wanted to stay away from? Which ones would bring hope instead of more despair?  So I decided to put a list of my top ten favorite books together for you, with a link to each one on Amazon, so you can find out more about it and order it if it looks like a good fit for you. Just a note: these books are all written by those who have a faith in God. Not “religious,” but raw and real in their personal relationship with God, and several of them share their anger with Him and the journey it put them on.

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.

I remember as we were heading into the new year, two months after my daughter, Becca, died. I was horrified at the thought of “leaving her behind.” It felt like going into a new year without her was another finality of her death that I just wasn’t ready to accept.

Who can possibly celebrate the future, when my daughter would not be with us? “Out with the old and in with the new” brought heaviness and panic attacks, not excitement.

God knew that. He knew how heavy my heart was. He knew I didn’t want to continue with anything new. He knew I wasn’t ready to let go in a way that would allow me to see hope in a future without Becca. He knew I was deep in suffocating grief, and it didn’t shake His faithfulness to me one little bit.

As I closed myself in with Him day after day, crying buckets of tears and sharing my hurt and pain with Him, He sat with me. He stayed with me in all of my sobbing, ugliness, confusion and depression.

And in my moments of brokenness, when I wanted to hear what He had to say that would bring a measure of healing to my completely shattered heart, He was always ready to comfort me and speak to me.

Sometimes it would be through a song that came on my CD player that I kept running 24-7 or on the radio. Sometimes it was a chapter in the Bible, or as little as half of a verse, as I would pick up His Word and search for help. Sometimes it was through an act of kindness from a family member or friend. But most of the time, it was that still, small voice that spoke to my heart as I sat in my brokenness.

I spent lots of my time journaling. I wrote my scrambled thoughts and asked Him questions. And quite often, I found myself writing what I heard God speaking to me in my heart in answer to those questions.

You see, something I had come to realize in a much deeper way than ever before, is that God isn’t just “out there” somewhere. He is actually inside me. Because I have invited Jesus to be Lord of my life, the Spirit of God dwells in me. I don’t have to wait for God to come to me from somewhere out there. I can quiet myself and listen to His still small voice from inside of me, speaking peace, bringing comfort.

Whatever I need, He is already inside of me to meet that need. The amazing thing is that He is also sitting on His throne at the exact same time. And I can come boldly to that throne of our gracious God to receive His mercy and find His help which I so desperately need (Hebrews 4:16).

So as I found myself struggling so deeply with the horrific thought of getting further and further away from Becca, I asked God to help me by giving me His thoughts. He so graciously showed me that the truth is actually something totally different from what was in my thoughts.

Every day I live on this earth brings me closer to my own departure date, and closer to Becca, not further away from her! Wow! That truth set me free! I still have moments when I have those thoughts, and they can still make me cry. But I am not overwhelmed by them, as I now believe a truth that is deeper than my pain: I am getting closer to her, not further away from her.

Here are a couple of scriptures that have also helped me continue moving forward.

Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus (Philippians 3:13-14 NIV).

This doesn’t say we are forgetting and leaving our children behind us. That will never happen! I see it as an encouragement to “press on toward the goal,” which to me is learning how to live a full and meaningful life again, with the “prize of the upward call” being eternity with Him and with my child and others I love who are patiently waiting for me to join them.

We fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal (2 Corinthians 4:18 NIV).

I am SO thankful for this, and constantly remind myself this world is only temporary. What a relief!

It is so hard to believe, but this will be my seventh new year without Becca. God has continued to comfort and strengthen me, putting the pieces of my heart back together in a way that I am complete, and yet forever broken. And I’m okay with that, because I will be one year closer to being with my Becca forever!

How about you? Is there a scripture that you have held on to within the grief that has been a comfort or an anchor of hope? Please share it with us in the comments.

In my book When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child, I share some of my journaling and what God spoke to me. To receive chapter 11, The Pillar of Your Thoughts and Words, just provide your name and email address and we will get it right to you.

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.

As I sit here at my desk, I am surrounded by memories of my daughter, Becca. It always amazes me how some days memories can make me smile, and other days they bring tears.

Holidays definitely have the same affect on me. Some moments, some days, some years are filled with tears, and others are filled with warm memories that bring smiles and even laughter.

And I have learned that it’s okay. It’s okay to be smiling one moment and crying the next. It’s okay to be able to go to one event and but not go to the next event. It’s okay to want to talk about my child with someone who misses her. It’s okay to not want to talk about my child right now to anyone. It’s okay to fall apart and be a mess because something triggered a wave of grief, and it’s okay to have that happen with no explanation. It’s okay to finally have a burst of energy one day, and the next day not even get out of bed.

It’s okay to not be okay! Let me say that again, a little louder this time. Especially as a bereaved parent:

IT’S OKAY NOT TO BE OKAY!

And that is encouraging. Well, maybe not to those who have never faced a deep loss like ours. But if you are anything like me, this was a relief when I found out it is not only okay to be like this, but it is NORMAL!

It gave me so much hope to know that there are other bereaved parents who seem to have figured out how to live without their child, who were once in the same “not okay” place that I still find myself in at times.

So, what do we do?

How can you deal with all of this holiday stuff that is just so hard, and the people around you don’t understand why you are struggling so much? There are some events we can avoid, but how about the ones we really have to attend, and just have to figure out how to get through them?

May I offer a few suggestions to help you face the holiday events you just can’t seem to avoid in a way that will bring some relief to you, if only for a few moments.

1. Take a memory book, and ask people to write something to your child and a special memory.
2. Ask them to make a toast specifically acknowledging by name all family members who have passed on.
3. Play one of your child’s favorite upbeat songs and have everyone dance to it (even something fun like the Chicken Dance Song or Let It Go).
4. Have a silly hat contest, with your child’s favorite color featured. (This would have to be planned ahead, and might make a wonderful yearly tradition. Do the hats each year, or change it up.)
5. Find photos of the family members/friends with your child, and make it into a video with music everyone will enjoy watching.
6. Take a movie your child liked to watch, and ask the group you are with to watch it with you.

And if none of these suggestions seem like they will make you want to be there, guess what? It’s okay!

People around us who have never lost a child will say time heals, (which is why they think we should be over the death of our child after a year or two). As a bereaved parent who has been on this journey for six years, I don’t believe that. I believe it is a chain reaction of where we allow and train our thoughts to go, which affects the choices we make, which affects what we do with our time, which brings a measure of needed healing. (That’s a bit to unpack, which is better to leave to another article.)

Some of us are also told in this life, “It’s not about you.” But the truth is, sometimes it is. Only you know what is right for you as a bereaved parent through the holiday season. But whatever you do, do it with HOPE.

HOPE – Hold On, Pain Eases!

Based on those I have talked to who are much further down the road than I am, I will never say the pain ends. But it can eventually ease, depending on some of the choices you make with your thoughts and actions.

But if you are just in survival mode right now, that’s okay. Do what you need to do to get through it!

And let me end by saying, don’t expect people who have never faced a holiday season with the death of their child to understand. Those of us who are bereaved parents ahead of you on the path know that it’s okay not to be okay, because we are still not okay without our child.

If you would like thirty suggestions to help bring yourself comfort and take care of yourself body, soul, and spirit, just fill in your  name and email address below, and we would be happy to get it right to you.

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.

 

 

“One holiday down, two more to go…” Is that your thought after Thanksgiving, heading into Christmas and New Year’s Eve?

The end-of-the-year holiday season can amplify everything, especially the questions and the pain.

When we face the death of our child, it can feel impossible to believe God is for us, or that He is Emmanuel, God with us. So many unanswered questions, many that start with “Why.”

Last year (in 2016), right before Thanksgiving, I was before the Lord and the words, “Emmanuel, God with us,” hit my spirit with almost an explosion. I cried out, telling the Lord that I want Him to be with me every day of this next month.  I want to feel Him; I want to know His peace in a very tangible way.

I suddenly had a picture of our advent wreath.  As our children grew up, we had many years where we did the advent wreath to help refocus us, from the commercialism and the frazzled busyness of the season, to Jesus.

The thought came to me to have my own advent time with the Lord each night, using the wreath and the candles;

to have a time where I specifically focus on who He is as Emmanuel, God with us, within my pain of the loss of my daughter.

I found myself writing something for each night of the advent season, and most evenings went live on Facebook to light that week’s candle and share with anyone who wanted to join me.

Here is what I found myself writing one day for the week I was meditating on the hope we have in Him.

Advent is a time of waiting; waiting for the coming or arrival of something. This is the season when advent is waiting for the arrival of Christmas. For most, it is a time of joyful anticipation, mixed with frazzled busyness.

But for many of us who have faced the death of our child, it is a time of waiting for the season to just… be…over. There are so many painful reminders of who we are missing, and painful reminders of what will never be.

We are also waiting to be reunited with our child, and that can’t seem to come soon enough. I remember in that first year after Becca died, telling God to just kill me, so I could be done here. Even though I had four other children, I just couldn’t get past the pain of having Becca gone, to be able to enjoy and love the ones who were still here.

Most of us are not suicidal. We just don’t want to live any more. I believe God knew from the very beginning of time that we would struggle with feeling so hopeless in our grief, and He did something about it.

1 Peter 1:3-5 tells us that we have an inheritance reserved in heaven; a living hope through the resurrection of Christ from the dead.

Even though the Christmas season is all about Jesus entering the world of the humans He created and becoming one of us, the purpose of His birth was to die, so that we could have life. Not just life after we leave this world, but abundant life here on this earth (John 10:10). And believe it or not, He still wants to make good on that gift, that promise, in your life, after the death of your child.

God tells us that He is near to the broken hearted (Psalm 34:18). I don’t think there is anyone more brokenhearted than those of us who have lost a child.

But you know what? No matter how broken you are today, tomorrow always promises new hope.

Allow God to plant His seed of hope right in the middle of your pain, and watch it sprout into life.

Romans 15:13 has become one of my absolute favorite verses since Becca died. Please see this as a special gift during this advent season for yourself.  “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (NKJV).

Right now, let’s speak God’s hope into our hopelessness together.

I turned my advent time into a book, so others can also have an opportunity to meditate on what Christmas means to us now as a bereaved parent. There is a reading for each day of the advent season, and each week focuses on something we desperately need: hope, peace, joy and love. Every reading also closes in a simple prayer, to help us continue to open our hearts to the Healer of our shattered souls. (To find out more about this book click here.)

And in case you are interested, each of the four advent Sundays at 8:30 PM Central, I will be live on Facebook (www.facebook.com/gpshope), with my advent wreath, lighting that week’s candle and sharing the current reading. I hope you can join me, and we can share this sacred time together as those who are bound together by both the blood of Jesus, and by the deep earthly loss we have faced.

May you be deeply blessed and find a measure of healing as you focus on making this Christmas season one of reflecting on our Savior in the midst of your painful loss. I sincerely pray that in the next few weeks, the Holy Spirit will remind us all that no matter how suffocating the darkness, there is hope for our future, because He truly is Emmanuel, God with us.

 

 

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.