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My Goal for This Year Is to Survive!

 

It seems everywhere I turn I see someone talking about their goals for the new year or sharing how to make sure you keep those goals and new year’s resolutions.

If your goal for this year is just to survive, like it was for me those first couple of years after my daughter died (or maybe you are ready to go beyond just surviving but are not sure how), here are five ways to help do that, using G.R.I.E.F.

G – Give yourself lots of grace. Don’t compare where you are on your journey with others. Don’t put yourself on a timetable. Don’t expect too much from yourself, because you are going to be forgetful, and you will feel like you are crying all the time. Be kind to yourself.

R– Release yourself from the guilt, especially the “should haves,” and “if onlys.” If you had a friend who was blaming themselves for their child’s death, you would tell them not to. That is a terrible burden for your friend to put on themselves, so do not do it to yourself.

I– Ignore those who want to try to fix you. They mean well, but if they have not lost a child, they cannot possibly know what you should or should not be doing. People who have not faced the loss of a child may tell you that you need to move on, that you need to get past it, or that you need to find a way to have closure. These are all people who do not want to see you in so much pain, and they mean well, but to say it bluntly, they don’t know what they are talking about.

E – Engage with other pareavors. We can help you know that everything that you are thinking and feeling is normal. We can be your hope for you when you don’t have your own, be a light in your place of darkness, and can be an encouragement that you can learn to live a life of meaning and purpose again. Pareavors need each other; to have others around them who “get it.”

F – Find a way to honor the life of your child. The ways we can honor our children are endless. Finding a way to honor the life of your child will help in not staying stuck in their death, which was a moment in time; an important and devastating moment for sure. But I don’t want to live my life from the position of “My daughter died.” I want to figure out how to live from “My daughter lived, and her life mattered.”

I realize that none of these five things specifically brought God into the process, but that is because God needs to be woven into each one of these.

You can give yourself grace because God is giving you grace.

You need to release yourself from guilt because God is not holding anything against you. In fact, Jesus paid a very high price – his own life – to make sure that you are released from all shame and all guilt. Holding on to your guilt is like denying that Jesus went to the cross and died for you.

You can ignore others who are trying to fix you because God is the only one who can take the shattered pieces of your heart and bring them back together.

Just like the Holy Spirit led you to this blog, He wants to help you connect and engage with other pareavors who can walk this journey with you so they can be His words of hope and His arms of love wrapped around you.

And God has already made a path for you to walk on that will help you find ways to honor your child while giving you a life of meaning and purpose.

I used to have what almost felt like panic attacks when I would think about getting further and further away from Becca…. Two years, five years, ten, twenty years…. I could barely breathe, thinking about it. But one day the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart saying: You are not getting further away from her. Each day brings you closer to seeing her again.

You can survive this year, and you will. Just hold on and take one day, one hour, one breath at a time. By this time next year, you will be one year closer to being with your child again!

This blog was taken from the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast episode 193, which has more shared on this topic. You can listen here on YouTube. To listen directly on the GPS Hope website click here or find the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast on your favorite listening app.

NOTE: This is the September 30th entry in my newest book that will be coming out soon. It is a full year of daily readings, along with a short reflection and an appropriate Bible verse for each day. Click here to find out more.

If you would like a printable PDF of G.R.I.E.F to put somewhere as a reminder, we would be happy to send it to you. Just let us know below.

 

Expressions of Hope is provided by Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). The founders, Dave and Laura Diehl, travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, and bringing intimate weekend retreats to bereaved parents. Laura is also a singer/songwriter and the author of multiple award-winning books.

If you would like more information about bringing Dave and Laura to you for an event, please send an email to office@gpshope.org.

If you are interested in bringing GPS Hope to your area for a weekend retreat click here.

 

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Our Grief is Like…

 

There are many ways to illustrate what our grief is like after the death of our child. Here are the four that I seem to relate to the most.

  1. The loss of our child is like having an amputation. Part of our very being has been cut off from us, and we have to figure out how to live with that piece of us missing.

I had a front row seat to this, since our daughter, Becca, had her little left leg amputated when she was only 3 years old, due to cancer in her bone (osteogenic sarcoma). Read her story here. She “recovered,” but her life was never the same.

There was obviously a major scar because she only had a stump instead of her leg. She didn’t look like the other kids. She couldn’t run and keep up with them. She had limitations. Every day she woke up with the reminder that her leg was missing, and every day, sometimes multiple times a day, she had to be determined not to let it stop her from still having a fulfilling life.

With Becca gone now, there are constant painful reminders of that fact. I don’t look like other parents. I have a hard time keeping up with life sometimes because of my limitations.  Every day I have to be determined to not let her death keep me from having a fulfilling life with those who are still here.

If my three-year-old daughter could figure out how to live with a piece of her cut off, then so can I! She was the greatest example of anyone I know, who persevered and didn’t let something like an amputated leg keep her from still having a wonderful life for the twenty-nine years she had here on this earth.

  1. Grief is like carrying a large sharp rock in your pants pocket. At first you are very aware of it, as it bangs against your leg with every movement. It might even cut and bruise your leg, making it more painful.

After a while, you are aware it is there, but it doesn’t bother you as much. Then you move on to times where you consciously forget the rock is there as you go throughout your day. But whenever you reach into your pocket to grab something else, as your hand feels the rock, you remember…

Sometimes you bump up hard against something, and that rock cuts or bruises you again, and you are back to walking tenderly, waiting for it to heal.

There are times you will put your hand in your pocket because you want (or need) to feel the rock. Some of those times you will even pull the rock out to hold it and look at it, but it eventually goes back into your pocket.

Even if we change pants, the rock will always go with us, into the new pocket.

  1. Grief is like the ocean waves. You feel like you have been shipwrecked and there are huge waves crashing over you with no mercy. Every time you try to come up for air, all you can do is get a quick gasp, only to be tumbled around by another wave crashing over you. When you think you can’t take any more (multiple times), the waves start coming further apart. At least now you can catch your breath.

Eventually the waves aren’t as big, making it easier to get back to the top when you get thrown under them.

Calm waters eventually come, but there will still be waves and storms that send you swirling, being thrown underneath the water again, leaving you gasping for air. But each time, you get better at maneuvering through them. You also know they will stop at some point and the calm waters will come once again.

  1. Grief is like carrying a backpack of rocks up a mountain. At first you can’t move under the weight, as you look up to where you need to go, believing it is impossible. With much effort and struggle, you begin to slowly inch your way forward.

After a while, you are able to stand up and take some steps, even though you often stumble backward and fall down under the weight of the backpack. As you continue to struggle, eventually, you discover to your shock, that you are walking up the mountain. It’s hard, but you’re doing it.

The backpack of rocks becomes easier to carry as your strength builds. However, there are times you need to take a rest. Some rests are relatively short. Others take longer because you are once again feeling the full weight of what you are carrying.

The longer you climb, the easier it gets, and the fewer rests you seem to need. But you will always continue to have the backpack of rocks to carry and have the effects of it.

I have also learned that there are no “stages of grief” after a deep loss, like the death of one’s child. As an FYI, the five stages of grief were presented by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross for those who are terminally ill. They are the stages a person works through upon receiving the news that they are going to die. It was not for those who are still here after a loss.

So, with that, I have one more analogy.

Our grief is like a very tangled up ball of yarn and each of us has our own individual mess of yarn to untangle. I have knit since junior high, learning through 4-H, and have dealt with more tangled balls and skeins of yarn than I could ever count! There have been times the tangle was so frustrating that I quit trying and just put it away for another time. There have also been times I literally cut the yarn into pieces, trying to get it untangled (which made for a lot of ends to have to knit together)!

But eventually, whatever I was working on was finished and it brought joy to whomever it was intended for, including myself. One thing I have noticed, is that over the years I have gotten better at untangling the messes, and don’t have to cut it into pieces anymore.

Grief is hard work. Fortunately, it does get easier, even though we will deal with the pain of our loss for the rest of our time here on earth.

If you feel like you haven’t gotten very far and that you should be further along than you are, don’t allow yourself to get discouraged. You will get there, as you continue this unwanted journey, one step (or one tangle) at a time.

Whatever you do, don’t compare where you are to anyone else, especially those who have never experienced the death of their child! You are untangling your own messy ball of grief, and it is unlike anyone else’s. There is no right or wrong way and there are NO time limits!

Do any of these illustrations resonate with you? Let me know in the comments below. Also, maybe you can find a tangible item (or a picture) and put it somewhere you can see, to remind yourself that even though it might be really hard right now, as you keep going, eventually it will get better.

One final thought: You might want to share this, so that others around you can get a better understanding that our grief is like…

 

 

 

Do you struggle with guilt from your child’s death? We would like to send you the eBook, Ten Tips to Overcome Guilt. Just submit your name and email address below. You will also begin to receive a Weekly Word of Hope for bereaved parents (which you can easily unsubscribe from at any time).

 

Expressions of Hope is provided by Grieving Parents Sharing Hope (GPS Hope). The founders, Dave and Laura Diehl, travel full time in their Hope Mobile (a 38-foot motor home) to be more easily available for speaking and ministry requests, and bringing intimate weekend retreats to bereaved parents. Laura is also a singer/songwriter and the author of multiple award-winning books.

If you would like more information about bringing Dave and Laura to you for an event, please send an email to office@gpshope.org.

If you are interested in bringing GPS Hope to your area for a weekend retreat click here.

 

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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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