Let’s talk about overwhelm. I cannot speak to what men experience but I can speak to what so many women experience. We are consistently exhausted and overwhelmed by the many demands life places on us. When grief is added into this mix all of these thoughts swirling around in our heads are suddenly exacerbated one hundredfold. How do I get the laundry folded when I can’t stop crying? How do I show my children peace
This is something I wrote last year on this day. It still holds true. At this time 8 months ago today I was washing my daughters body and preparing her for her siblings to say goodbye. Today, we celebrate the 3 Kings who came to see Baby Jesus. Most of us know the story. Ancient wise men who had read in their books that a mighty King was to be born under this night sky.
Did you know that we are currently working on publishing my private journal and Facebook entries? After several different friends reached out to me and asked if I could combine all of my social media posts into a book I decided that I would also publish much of my journal. These entries consist of the entire year after Maggie died. We are in the editing stage so have quite a way to go but we
For all my loss mamas out there. I know. I know how hard today is. For some of us, it’s harder than Christmas. Suddenly, you are forced into a new year where no new memories will be made. The memories of your child grow further and further behind you. Suddenly, you aren’t able to say, “My child died this year” or “my child died last year.” What in the world do I tell people now?
Death Is Nothing At All
Death is nothing at all.
It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
- Henry Scott-Holland
For all the loss parents out there. I know. I know how hard today is. For some of us, it's harder than Christmas. Suddenly, you are forced into a new year where no new memories will be made. The memories of your child grow further and further behind you. Suddenly, you aren't able to say, "My child died this year" or "my child died last year." In my case I'm almost at the point where I have to say, "It's been 3 years." Suddenly, the event feels so far removed but it's so close and has devastated you so deeply that no matter how far away you get from that actual moment it feels as though you are still right there.
Tonight, for many of us, we cling simply to joy because it's so hard to find happiness. Some of us have not yet figured out that joy and happiness are different so we hold on tightly to hope.
People all around us count down to the big moment while I cling to the cross looking around me. They cheer and celebrate and hug and kiss all while my body bleeds from the wounds that have been inflicted. They talk about resolutions and lift a glass of champagne while my heart cries out for my child. And I don't wish them any differently. I'm so glad they can celebrate. I'm so glad they can be filled with this happiness. Will we ever feel this again? All I know is that, for me, I'm another year closer to seeing my daughters.
Tonight, try to be at peace. Try to rest. You will get through this night just like all the others. And you will come out with so much knowledge of the suffering that exists in this world. Use that to help others. Allow it to be a part of your story. Lord, help us to embrace the cross tonight.
2017 was Maggie's last Christmas with us. That means this is her last recorded Christmas message. So, Merry Christmas. From us. To you. From our family, to your family.
❤🦋❤🦋❤🦋❤🦋❤🦋❤🦋❤🦋❤🦋
Listening to Yo-Yo Ma while I mop the kitchen. I use the silence around me to think about Maggie and the memories I have of her. There are no words that can express the heart wrenching life this is. I am always being tugged between suffering and beauty. Grief and joy. Tears and laughter. This is the strange world I now live in and can never leave.
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