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Why We Will Never Get Over It

A point of frustration for many bereaved parents after child loss is feeling like we are being judged for still missing our children.

There are some people around us who think we should be “moving on” or be “over it” by now, as if the death of our child is like a bad cold. Yes, the death of our child was an event, a moment in time. But that moment has disfigured us for the rest of our lives.

Having one’s child die is more than something bad that happened a few weeks ago, or months ago, or even years ago. The death of our child is a continual occurrence. Every morning when we wake up, at some point the realization hits us that our child is no longer here and will not be part of our day. It can feel like they died all over again.

Every event can feel like another death of our child.

  • Getting rid of a car that our child rode in can be agonizing because we will no longer have that car which attaches us to those memories.
  • There are meals we can no longer make (or eat) because it is too painful to be reminded that our child is not there to share their favorite food with us.
  • Seeing a pair of shoes displayed in a store can send us bolting to the car in tears, realizing that we will never again buy our child another pair for a sport they were in or for special occasions.
  • Hearing a certain song come on the radio can force us to the side of the road, unable to drive because we can’t see through our tears, even after we quickly turned it off.
  • Any and every event we attend (or are even invited to) is a reminder of who is missing. It can feel brutal seeing others who are our child’s age hitting life’s milestones that we will never get to experience with our child.

The death of one’s child is considered by most professionals to be one of the most (if not the most) traumatic event a person can deal with in life. Many parents also deal with PTSD, based on the circumstances of their child’s death.

I don’t think anyone can deny that it is a traumatic experience to walk behind your child’s casket and bury them, or to bring your child home as ashes in an urn. And for those parents who found their child’s body, or many other possible scenarios, they can also have PTSD.

Most of us are not stuck in our grief because we refuse to move on with our lives without our child. We are “stuck” because of being surrounded by constant reminders of our child who should be here as part of our everyday lives, but instead there is silence and a constant emptiness.

We do eventually learn to cope, but we don’t “get over it.”

If someone has an amputation, first they must heal, both physically and emotionally, from having that body part cut off; and the emotional healing takes much longer than the physical.

Then they must learn how to function and do everything differently with that part of them missing. Even when that happens, they are reminded multiple times a day that a body part has been cut off, because of how they are forced to live differently, in a way that helps them adapt to the loss.

Some days it is easy, some days it is a struggle to stay positive, and other days it hits them full force (almost like it just took place), no matter how long ago the amputation happened.

How do I know this? Our daughter, Becca, had her left leg amputated at only three years old because of cancer, so we had a front row seat to an amputee living day-to-day life.

As a bereaved parent, we have had our child amputated from us, and everything that an amputee must go through, we do as well. However, the emotional pain is multiplied and much more intense losing an entire person who is part of you, than losing something that is physically part of you, like a leg or an arm.

Several years ago, when I was working on one of my books, I was accused by someone that I was writing it as a way to continue dragging up the past instead of going forward. Wow!  First, I was writing the book to give hope to others who found themselves in the same suffocating pit that I had been thrown into, letting them know we can find our way out. Secondly, it was not dragging up the past; it was helping me learn how to cope with living in the present and in the future without my daughter.

Studies have shown that for those who have lost a child, anything under five years is considered fresh grief. So, I am not surprised when a bereaved parent does not believe they will ever have a life worth living again. I know I didn’t believe it.

However, we do eventually get stronger as we learn how to carry the grief in a way that does not feel like a heavy darkness every minute of the day. We will never get over our loss as if it never happened. That is impossible. But we can and will get over to the other side of the darkness, able to live a life of meaning and purpose again. This is not in spite of our child’s death, but because of his or her life.

 

This blog was taken from the Grieving Parents Sharing Hope podcast episode 194, 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: Some of this was taken from Laura’s book Come Grieve Through Our Eyes: How to Give Comfort and Support to Bereaved Parents. To find out more about this book, along with Laura’s other books click here.

 

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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Hope is Our Anchor

I remember that first year after my daughter, Becca, died. She passed in October, so right away we were thrown into all the end-of-year holidays without her. As it was getting closer to New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, I felt horrible. I felt like going into a new year meant leaving Becca behind on a whole new level. Life was going on without her, and it wasn’t supposed to!

This heaviness we can be feeling right now between the end-of-year holidays and being in a different year without our child is exactly why I feel led to remind us of the hope we can still have, even in this place of suffocating darkness after the death of our child.

Many of us don’t have any idea how we are going to get through the rest of our time here on earth, much less getting to the place of being okay with it. We definitely cannot see ourselves getting to the place where we want to stick around a while longer because our life has found meaning and purpose again. That just feels impossible.

At the same time, we also shake our head in wonderment at how anyone can get through this without God to lean on. Even if we are angry at Him, something in us knows we need Him. We need His strength, His peace, and His hope.

To help us grab hold of that hope, let me share just a few scriptures with you.

Before I do, let me make sure we realize that the hope God talks about is much different than we often use the word hope. “I hope it doesn’t rain.” “I hope she passes the test.” These are wishes. God’s hope is not a wish, but a confidence that He will come through for us. I see hope as a seed we plant that is nourished to become faith/trust.

Here are some of the things we read in God’s Word about that kind of hope.

  • Psalm 119:147 I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word. (NIV)
  • Psalm 130:7 …hope in the Lord! For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is great power to redeem. (NRSV)
  • Job 14:7 There is hope for a tree that has been cut down; it can come back to life and sprout. (GNT)
  • Jeremiah 17:17 You alone are my hope in the day of disaster. (NLT)
  • Lamentations 3: 19-24 I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed. I remember it all—oh, how well I remember—the feeling of hitting the bottom. But there’s one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope: God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over). He’s all I’ve got left. (MSG)
  • 1 Corinthians 13:7 Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. (NLT)
  • Hebrews 6:18-20 We who have run for our very lives to God have every reason to grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go. It’s an unbreakable spiritual lifeline, reaching past all appearances right to the very presence of God where Jesus, running on ahead of us, has taken up his permanent post as high priest for us. (MSG)
  • Hebrews 6:19 This hope is a safe anchor for our souls. It will never move. This hope goes into the Holiest Place of All behind the curtain of heaven. (NLV)

Hope is what keeps us going. It is our anchor in the storm of grief, when we feel like we are going under and can’t get back to the surface to breathe.

I pray that what you have read here gives you at least a glimmer of needed hope as we are on this unwanted journey together.

If you are one of my podcast listeners, you know I will have to end this blog with one more word of hope, literally, which is my acronym for hope.

Hold

On

Pain

Eases

There is HOPE!

 

The above scriptures are just a few of thirty-six verses which were read on podcast episode 192. To listen to all of them being read to you, click here.

You can also get a downloadable PDF of all thirty-six scriptures. Just submit your name and email address below. (This will also put you on the Weekly Word of Hope email list which you can unsubscribe from at any time.)

 

 

Laura’s next book will be coming out soon! It is called Reflections of Hope: A Daily Reading for Bereaved Parents. You can find out more about it here.

 

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 a Full-Time Job!

It can be exhausting trying to explain to family and friends why we don’t want to (or can’t) celebrate holidays and special events like we have in the past, especially when they just don’t get it. Friends and family who mean well, can even insist that joining in the celebrations and festivities is just what we need. They tell us it is the best thing we can do to “get back to normal.”

Insert loud “wrong answer” buzzer-sound right about now!

Here is something that might help to explain our grief, if not to others, at least to yourself.

For those first few months up to two or three years, grieving the death of our child is like having a full-time job with overtime! It consumes us. It takes everything we have, whether we want it to or not. It drains us, leaving us to feel like there is just no way we can go on.

Eventually, our grief becomes more like a full-time job, thankfully without all the constant overtime. It usually sneaks up on us around three to five years into our grief, and we don’t even realize it at first.

Grieving the death of our child is still the greatest part of our life. It still drains us and exhausts us, but now we have times of reprieve. We can go out and do something without feeling like we are on the verge of falling apart. We can join certain activities or family events (even if we aren’t ready to stay the whole time) and have some smiles and laughs without feeling guilty. We can watch a movie and actually enjoy it, instead of just staring at the screen, oblivious to what we are watching.

We clock back in to our full-time job of grieving afterwards, but it isn’t all-consuming anymore, although we can still slip into overtime for a few days (even weeks) here and there.

Then, after several years of really hard work, we find ourselves able to go down to part-time grief. However, we are always “on call” because our grief is like an undercurrent, ready to surface in a split second. Sometimes we know there is something coming that will be a trigger, and other times we get slapped with it out of the blue with no warning, in a place we least expect it.

When that happens, we clock back in to increase our grief work time. Sometimes we are clocked in for a few minutes or hours. Sometimes it is for a day or two. And there are occasional times, when we need to go back to full-time, such as when our child should be graduating with their classmates, or a wedding happens that our child would have been in.

And yes, there will still be rare times when we go back to overtime, like the death of another close family member that triggers our deep grief. Eight years after my daughter, Becca, died, I found myself sobbing and wailing at my dad’s casket. I didn’t even do that at Becca’s casket, but when I saw the boutonniere from her wedding pinned to his suit, I just totally lost it. I even knew it was going to be there, but it affected me so much more deeply than I anticipated. I was out-of-sorts for a few weeks, having a hard time focusing and functioning. (Then seven weeks later my mother-in-law, whom I loved dearly, passed away in her sleep, which didn’t help at all!)

I am so glad to be back to part-time right now. But I know there will continue to be times when it goes back to fulltime for a while, and unfortunately, also overtime. But thankfully, that is very rare.

Where are you right now? Are you on overtime, fulltime, or part time grief? It’s all hard work, but the overtime is just outright brutal! If that’s where you are, what can you do to give yourself a short break now and then?

We can’t stop the overtime until that work project is complete, but we can and need to take as many breaks as possible, no matter how short they are. The Holy Spirit knows exactly what you need and when you need it. If you feel a prompting to do something that doesn’t make a lot of sense (obviously nothing harmful), then follow through on those promptings. You just never know how it will lift your load just a bit.

 

Do you struggle with self-care? We have put together a list of 30 simple things you can do, to take care of yourself and bring yourself comfort. Let us know below where to send it. (You will also begin to receive our Weekly Word of Hope, which you can 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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Five Lessons About Grief from Climbing a Mountain

A few weeks ago, the Hope Mobile (our 38-foot motor home that we live in full-time) was parked at a campground in a beautiful valley, surrounded by small mountains. As I would go walking in the mornings, a few of those times I found myself following a trail that took me up one of those mountains.

One morning I realized how my climb up the mountain paralleled several things in my grief journey after my oldest daughter, Becca, died. Here are five of those things.

  1. It’s a lot of work climbing up those mountains. And when you get to the top, it’s wonderful, but you don’t get to stay there. You must work your way back down.

The earlier we are in our grief journey, the harder the climb is and the less time we stay at the top. We find ourselves almost immediately tumbling back down the mountainside, back into the valley. With anything in life, mountaintop experiences are great, even exhilarating. But we don’t get to stay there. It is in the valley where most maturing happens and life-lessons are learned, including how much we need to depend on God to be our guide though this life.

  1. What kept me moving forward and continuing to go up the mountain was not being able to see the full path in front of me. I freely admit I would not have kept going if I could have seen the full path all the way to the top. I kept thinking, “I’ll just go up to that point where it curves, and I’ll probably be at the top.” And when I would turn that corner, there would be more path and I would think again, “Okay, let me get to that point up there,” and I would get there and find more path.

It’s a good thing we can’t see the full path of our lives ahead of time. We can only take a little bit at a time. But that doesn’t mean every corner we turn is bad, it is just unknown what lies ahead. If we keep going, based on what we can see, and not worry about what we can’t see, we will eventually make it all the way.

  1. The last mountain I climbed was taking longer than I thought it would. I was getting quite tired and I started hoping I would meet up with the path I was on the day before, which would be a quicker way back down. As I kept going forward, looking for that other path, I eventually found myself at the very top of this new mountain. As I looked to my right, I was shocked to see that waaaayyyy down below me was the top of the mountain where I had stood the day before. I had no idea that I was climbing that much higher!

As we keep walking on this journey, one step at a time (sometimes one breath at a time) we will one day suddenly discover that we are doing better than we ever thought we could or would. At the time though, it feels like we can’t go on and things will never get better.

  1. Quite often I was paying so much attention to the path and my steps, that I was missing the view, so sometimes I would stop and look out, to enjoy what was around me.

Quite often we are so consumed by our grief (and rightly so, especially those first few weeks and months) that we don’t see what is going on around us. There are good things all around us; things we can still be thankful for. Sometimes we need to force ourselves to put our grief on pause to look for those things.

  1. I also used those times of looking around at the view to get rested before continuing.

Grief is a lot of hard work! It can take everything we have just to be in survival mode. It’s okay to rest when you are weary, when triggers hit hard, and you don’t have any energy to do even the simplest things like take a shower or put a frozen pizza in the oven.

And if you are someone who has faced the death of your child, it is one of the worst traumas a person can go through on this earth. (You will find that experts support this, saying we are going through what is called “traumatic grief” and that five years and less is considered fresh grief for a parent who has lost a child.) You have been through a trauma and can possibly even be dealing with PTSD.

Rest is not only okay, it is what you need, in every area, physically, emotionally, and yes, even spiritually in some ways.

There is one last comparison I would like to share with you, which might possibly be the most important one.

I can show you lots of pictures I took while climbing these mountains. I can tell you some of the things God was speaking to me, but it was my personal climb. Even if you had been with me, we would have seen things through our own eyes and our own thoughts.

In other words, we can be on the same path together, and yet we will be on our own personal separate climb. I would only be able to do so much to pull you into what I was seeing and how I was feeling. I could point something out to you, but you would be seeing it through your own lens of life. You would be having your own experience. It would be with me, and yet separate from me. Some of our climb would be the same experience, and some of it would be very different.

We are each on our own grief journey. Even if you are like me and have lost a child from this earth, there is no way I know how you feel. I know how I felt after my daughter died. I know the suffocating darkness I experienced. I know how I would forget to breath and have to consciously tell myself to take a breath. I know how I wanted to stop hurting so bad and how the darkness lasted for so much longer than I thought it should.

I know how I didn’t want to live, which didn’t make sense because I knew in my head I had so much still to live for. (I had a loving husband, four other children and two grandchildren at the time – one of those being the 9-year-old daughter of my daughter who had died).  None of that mattered. My heart wanted to be with my daughter who was now gone from this earth, and I knew I couldn’t stay here if the rest of my life was going to be this painful. (I wasn’t suicidal, I just didn’t want to live any more and begged God to take me out of here!)

You see, we each have many of the same grief experiences, but it is all though our own personal journey of our personal relationship with the one who died. I know how I felt, but that doesn’t mean I know how you feel, even if you lost a daughter the same way I lost my daughter, through heart damage caused by chemotherapy.

I want to encourage you to keep climbing. If you started and found yourself back down in the valley, go again after you are rested. And even though we each have our own experience, please know that if you are a bereaved parent, we are here at GPS Hope (Grieving Parents Sharing Hope), walking with you every step of the way.

 

For those who would like some helpful ideas on how to take care of yourself on this grief journey, we would like to send you a free resource. To have Thirty Ways to Bring Yourself Comfort and Take Care of Yourself delivered directly to your inbox, just submit your name and email address below.

Note: This will connect you with GPS Hope, including joining over 1,000 bereaved parents who receive a Weekly Word of Hope email on our journey together. If you want to stop receiving it at any time, just hit the unsubscribe button at the bottom of any email.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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Learning to Rest in God

“Don’t do, just be.”

This was the message I kept hearing from many different places for the first two years after Becca’s leaving this earth. I believe it is a message we all need at some point when working our way through the darkness and back into the light after the death of our child.

We all need that place where we can go to get away and rest. However, the rest we truly need to come into is not a time and a place. It is a position; a way of life. But often we must begin with the time and place in order to learn to live in that position.

That means we have to set time aside specifically to be alone in God’s presence, especially if we have a hard time believing He truly loves us after not stepping in to save our child from earthly death. We need to “just be” in the stillness of His presence, where He can speak peace to us and fill us with His extravagant love.

During that time those first couple of years, God gave me many reminders to rest in Him and His ways. It was a hard thing to do, because I could not see any light in my darkness or understand why God was allowing so much intense pain.

He would share His reminders to just “be” and rest in Him in so many different ways. He would remind me to take a breath and breathe in His love and peace. He never sugarcoated anything, but would acknowledge how difficult and steep my climb was, telling me to cling tightly to His hand, reminding me to look at Him whenever my circumstances overwhelmed me.

He knew how weak and helpless I was, and He never tired of meeting me in my place of need. Looking back, I see now how each time He would free me from a few more of my shackles, even though most of the time I couldn’t feel it.

Not only would He “hold” me, but He would encourage me to relax in the awareness of His presence. Some of my most precious times with the Lord were in my greatest times of weakness, just letting everything go and melting into His peace, love, and compassion. And so much peace and deep revelation came out of those times of intimacy in those first few years.

For example, I discovered so many scriptures that I had misunderstood, such as Matthew 11:28-29 where Jesus says,

Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (NIV)

There are lots of theological teachings on what Jesus meant by this, including what it meant for Jesus, as a rabbi, to say this. But at that moment of my life, the revelation of those verses didn’t mean that Jesus would make my life easy, but that being yoked together with Him is being yoked to that place of rest for my soul; that He would help me carry this heavy burden which is impossible for me to carry on my own.

I rediscovered Psalm 23 in The Complete Jewish Bible translation, that promises to restore my inner person, and that if I pass through death-dark ravines, He is with me; and that His grace and goodness are still pursuing me every day of my life.

This is not to say at some point I got it all figured out and now continually live from a place of rest. I wish God would just speak a command and make it all better, taking away the pain and replacing it with constant peace and rest, but it hasn’t happened that way.

Learning how to live in that place of resting in God has been a process. The pain can still be pretty intense at times, making me feel like I am going backwards, losing that peace and the place of rest.

For instance, a while back, Becca’s husband dropped off four plastic tubs on our front porch. They were full of things he no longer wanted taking up space in his garage. Two bins held Becca’s collection of Snow Buddies she put out every Christmas. One had all of her cassette tapes and CDs, and one contained lots of odds and ends, such as medical items used during her last year and a half of life, and some beautiful photo scrapbooks Becca spent hours on of their family.

But the thing that left me in a crying mess for the next few days was when I discovered her wedding dress smashed in the bottom of one of those bins. My heart still hurts, thinking about it. It felt so cruel, so careless, like she was no longer wanted or to be remembered. My daughter’s life has been reduced to four plastic bins, I thought. But instead of allowing myself to go in that direction, I told myself the truth. Her life was much bigger than these four bins. However… it was another door of finality I had to painfully work through, and once again make a conscious decision to rest in who God is within the circumstance.

Learning to rest in God is a must if you want to get out of your place of darkness.

And that means spending time alone with Him. You don’t even have to talk to Him;  just “be” with Him. Don’t feel guilty about being angry with Him, or about taking lots of time to be closed in with the One who loves you like crazy and wants to get you out of the pit and onto the path of living again.

Spend intimate time with Him. Lots of it. Let Him show you the way out by showing you the fullness of Himself. If you stick with it, I guarantee you will learn to come into that place of rest that we all so desperately need after the earthly departure of our child.

Would we rather have our child back? Absolutely. But that isn’t going to happen here on this earth. So, we might as well allow God to love on us and be at work in us, so that their death isn’t wasted in our lives.

 

This blog was taken from the chapter The Bedroom of Rest, from the award-winning book When Tragedy Strikes: Rebuilding Your Life with Hope and Healing After the Death of Your Child.

This book, When Tragedy Strikes, now has a course for those who feel the need to go deeper, wanting to implement more specific and practical ways on how to rebuild their lives after the death of their child.

The course has three options, based on how much or how little guidance one feels they want or need.

  • The first option is a free mini course.
  • The second option is a full course with eight modules.
  • The third option is for those who see the value in having one-on-one guidance and interaction with author and instructor, Laura Diehl, in their grief journey as they go through the full course. NOTE: This is for a small limited group and only available 2-3 times a year.

The When Tragedy Strikes Hope & Healing Course was created to walk with and help navigate a parent who has lost a child to a place of light, hope and a life of purpose once again. It is easier walking with others who have been on this path than stumbling about on our own.

While the process of grief cannot be hurried, we can learn how to take steps, no matter how small, making sure we keep moving forward instead of remaining stuck in the pain and darkness of our horrific loss.

To find out more about the When Tragedy Strikes Hope & Healing Course, click here.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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