For a very long time now I have had either a very good coping skill, or a really not so good trait. I’m never really sure which, and sometimes I think it might be both.

I am not easily panicked.. but maybe that on a bit of steroids. I fear very little, even at times when I probably should. I am seldom afraid. Things are rarely a big deal to me, not enough to get worried about. Again, even when I probably should be.

I could be wrong but I think the people like me, who’ve gone through such a horribly profound loss tend to go one of two directions with this. Either we have had this intense loss and so we live in this ever present fear of it happening again, or we truly feel that we’ve been through the absolute worst thing that could ever happen.. There is nothing we could ever go through that would come anywhere near as close.

I fall in with the latter. Which brings me to now, in this really uncertain time.

I hear the news about this virus. I see the numbers grow of those tested positive with it, and now those we are losing to it. The warnings, recommendations, and steps taken are changing on an almost daily basis.

How I act or react is entirely my own. I do not pretend it is the perfect or right course of action. I know full well my tendencies to be very slow to fear or to react. How I feel, again, is just me. I don’t expect others to feel the exact same, nor do I fault them for how they feel.

As for me I will continue to take this day by day. To listen to recommendations. To continue with protective measures, and to add new ones as needed.

I will continue to live as normally as possible, making adjustments where needed.

I will continue to work as long as I am able, and to get in and help those I work with to the best of my ability. I will work to improve my abilities, to be of more help where I can.

I will continue to instill that which is positive into the lives of my children. To help them focus on the good, and look for the good in others. Even when things appear or feel uncertain, to use creativity and flexibility.

To be still when need be, to weather a storm. To gain strength in the weathering.

I will look for ways to encourage those around me. Ways to lend a hand. I will pray for those who have asked for prayer in this time and will pray for those who have not.

I would encourage each of you to keep close (well, maybe not physically) your friends and family. To take in their love, support and encouragement during this time. To give that in return, to them and to others, where you are able.

I’ve recently learned of this centuries old Japanese art of repairing broken vessels. Of fixing or repairing broken pottery with something precious, like gold. I think it’s called Kintsugi.

This idea of taking something that would otherwise be nothing more than broken pieces of something possibly once beautiful and useful. Something that is now likely neither of those. And taking something else, of great value, and applying that so carefully, so creatively and purposefully to re-create it into something stronger, uniquely and beautifully so.

I relate to that broken pot, little more than pieces on the floor. Enduring so deep a loss shatters, forever, who you once were. Broken and shattered, no longer recognizable as what I once was, who I once was.

I only recently see this new carefully, put back together (almost) me. The broken pieces, yes, but with these amazingly beautiful and precious scars, showing signs of healing.

I know all too well what broke me. But what about these beautiful lines and veins that pulled me back together, that make me stronger than before? That gave me new strength.

For each person these can be different. They are uniquely yours. For me, in looking back more closely I see glimpses.

Just past the pain, the numbness and the tears I began to see other things.

I see memories, not just mine but also those shared by others around me.

I see comfort, freely offered in so many ways.

I see past moments of laughter, playfulness and mischief I would give anything to see again. They often bring a smile now.

I hear songs that meant so much to my loved ones, that bring to mind a small hand reaching for mine, to whirl and twirl about the room.

I remember the me that only they brought out, that only they could see.

I see lives they touched, and hear stories of those lives changed. I feel their sheer love of life, itself.

I look for ways, both big and small, to honor their most precious life.

I see the smallest steps taken, including more than a few stumbles.

I feel quiet peaceful moments, and soak in the beauty of things around me. Things they surely would have noticed and delighted in.

I live through should have beens, but take pleasure in new beginnings. I still feel loss and grief, but work hard to let go of guilt. I fully allow love and support of others in.

There is so much more! Each of these are a small piece of what has brought and what brings me back together. They are some the most precious lines of gold holding me in place. Each of these strengthening and shaping me.

I am not fully together, may never be, but I am beginning to see the absolute wonder and beauty in the once truly broken me.

While loss forever remains a part of our lives, sometimes it’s good to remember, and even revel in, the happy.

Having a loved one means, at least at some point, we knew them well. We knew what made them happy, what made them sad, what pained them most and what brought them their greatest joys.

It’s really easy to get stuck in our sadness, to get stuck in a rut. We are maybe at a place in our lives where we are looking for our own spark. Looking for our own joy. Looking for something that gives us a sense of purpose or meaning.

This might be a really good time to look back for something in our loved ones. Something they loved, were passionate about, took joy in. Borrow a page from their book.

Following are some examples… some things that we or our own friends and family have used.

A cause… there are many great ones to contribute to in a variety of ways. Volunteering can bring not only benefits to others but can be of great benefit to you, too.

Maybe your loved ones enjoyed building or creating for others… check into a nearby chapter of Habitat for Humanity. Offer to help with their next build.

Maybe they were, as many in my family are, devoted to pets or other animals… Volunteer at your local animal shelter or a nearby zoo. Foster a pet. Assisting at a city or town spay and neuter event would be good.

Maybe they were passionate about music… take up an instrument, learn to play the guitar (one of my goals, though not so successfully just yet), enjoy a special concert, learn a new dance move or two.

Maybe it was the arts… take up a painting class, or for the slightly more adventurous a glass blowing class, go to a play at a theater, sculpt, make pottery.

Help with healing… give blood.

Maybe travel was their thing… go ahead. Plan that trip. Overseas would be amazing, but so can a day trip to the nearest touristy town or attraction.

Or maybe try more than one. Have fun with this!!! In being open, in practicing a way to feel close to your loved one, you may find your own bit of happy.

For those with a recent, or near-recent, loss happiness is fleeting. Not fleeting like for everyone else, or even elusive. Take fleeting or elusive then multiply that exponentially.

I’ve heard it said you have to make your own happiness. But what if, in this area, you are temporarily (we hope) crippled. Unable.

Maybe here, for this purpose, comes the greatest need for self care. But what if we are not yet able to pull these skills out, let alone use them? This is where our family and friends’ love and support can come into play. This is where they can be of extra great help.

We can’t see it yet but maybe you can. Or maybe you can help us begin to see it.

For about two to three weeks after our daughter’s death I had previously set up reservations at a local B&B for my husband’s birthday. I didn’t care about it anymore, he probably didn’t either.

My family quietly stepped in and took over care of our 8 month old, and made sure that we made it to the B&B. All very gently and lovingly done.

I don’t remember much about it. The things I do remember were wandering the beautiful old home, admiring their recently remodeled gourmet kitchen, gazing out to the fields from the balcony of our little suite – my thoughts finally quieting, sinking into one of those huge, comfy surround-you-in-softness beds, and falling to sleep watching one of those comedy videos that don’t require you to use any brain power.

I got the rare privilege of almost 24 hours of cares and concerns falling away, something I hope to someday help others to be able to do.

It was a tiny beginning of the realization of the need and importance of self-care.

Self-care doesn’t have to be a big escape. Just to find one or two things just for you. Something not related to work or caring for others. Something just for your own emotional or spiritual well being.

It could be indulging in that cup of specialty coffee, taking time to read a good book or write in a journal. A bubble bath, a morning jog or bike ride. A scenic walk on a trail. Learning the guitar or sign language. Create a piece of art. Volunteering for a cause near and dear to you or your loved one.

Any of these, or other many other ideas not listed here, can bring moments of purpose and healing. And these can lead to moments or sparks of happiness, bit by bit.

If you are that individual enveloped in that loss then reach for just one thing, one thing just for you. That one item of self care. Then later reach for another. Step by step.

And if you are the friend or family member trying to help that person find a bit of themselves again, to find that bit of happiness and healing, then look for ways to help that person use their self-care.

Offer to watch their kids or house sit. Pay for a creative class they’re interested in. Buy a book you know they’ll love. Buy them dinner out, or order them dinner in. Offer your support and encouragement. You won’t regret it.

A New Year can mean many things to many people. It is often associated with new resolutions, new goals and almost always some sort of life improvement.

It may be that we’ve had an amazing year and are looking for things to only continue to get better. It may be that this last year held some especially difficult struggles and we really hope this next year will be better.

A new year can be exciting with promises of some new adventure, of new and wonderful things to come.

But for those who experienced significant loss there may be, instead, a loss of hope, a lack of excitement, and our dreams may seem very far away. Nonexistent even.

Our ideas of what matter are now altered, reflecting our experience and our new reality.

I can’t speak for everyone. Every journey of loss is unique. I can only speak from my personal experience. I can tell you that, for me, the first New Year after my loss I felt numb.

I think I just went through the motions. I didn’t want to feel in that moment. I probably welcomed that numbness just so I wouldn’t drown in the desire to go back to before.

Our friends and family were key. They offered their presence and support. And they backed off when I needed them to.

They offered their time, small or big outings, a comfy sofa with a hot drink and as much or as little conversation as I wanted. They lended an ear, a shoulder or both. Bit by bit they helped me to build small happy memories.

That first new year was not what I wanted, but it turned out to be the year I needed.

If you are in that first new year after allow yourself to go through it, to feel it, to live it. Allow yourself to grieve. It’s ok to be hurt, to be angry, to feel sad or depressed. And it’s ok to take small steps to begin to live again.

If you know someone going through that first year be there for them. Lend your support, your ear, and your shoulder. Be patient. Be a part of building hope, memories, and life. This means more to that person than you can imagine.

To all of you I wish the very best New Year, filled with love, healing, peace, family, friends, laughter, fondest memories and amazing new beginnings. I wish you a most truly happy new year…

It is the season of giving. My favorite time of the year. A time of family togetherness, love, a little peace and yes, the giving and receiving of gifts.

Yet this particular gift arrives of both very great need and of deeply heartbroken and heartfelt choice. That second part, the choice, is not the choice that everyone can make. Many would wish to, but due to health or circumstance are just not able. Some simply cannot, in that time and in that place. And that’s ok.

Our little one was one of those rare individuals that others were just naturally drawn to. I’m ashamed to admit that I used to get so frustrated at how long it took us to get out of a restaurant or a store with her.

It was never because of a temper tantrum or her dragging her feet, but because we were often stopped by random people commenting on how fun she was to watch or how something she did made them smile.

After a very exhausting day, in another city, we went with my family to a restaurant before heading back to the hotel for the night. I had a headache, and the whole time we were there my toddler chattered away (aimed at not only family but anyone in her range of sight), happily chewing on those little chunks of ice in her cup. I got on to her several times about the ice.

On the way out an older couple stopped us to say they just wanted to let us know how happy she had made them, that her apparent joy in chomping that ice brought them their own bit of joy. Turned out that they were in the restaurant to take a break from being with a family member in the hospital who’s prognosis was not looking good. I felt about two feet tall, after having been so frustrated with her. I promptly scooped her up into a great big hug, with tears starting down my face.

To her people were way better than toys. Well, people, her pets and horses. Any creature living, really, but people were her favorite. If you were happy she was happy, if you were sad she’d look for a way to make you happy.

It was because of her crazy love of the living and of living itself that when faced with the reality of making that heartbreaking choice… hope was now lost for us, but there could be hope for others… we chose to honor her and her love of life through that greatest and most precious of gifts.. life. The hope and gift of life through organ donation.

And while I have wished her back maybe a million times or more, I will forever be grateful for those three lives she changed. That in some small way she might live on through them.

For our Sue and Sue… I thank you from the bottom of my heart for having taken this gift and having made the most of it. Two truly extraordinary women! For living your lives to the fullest and for touching all those others around you. For allowing us into your lives, and in doing so giving us additional friends and family, even to this day.

And a huge thank you to the family of the little boy in whom her heart beat, whether for 20 minutes more or even now, nearly 20 years later. Thank you for loving him, and through him, loving and honoring the most precious part of me!

I would ask you, if at all possible, to consider marking that little organ donor box on your driver’s license. Hopefully it’s never needed.

But please keep in mind organ donation doesn’t just change one life, it affects many others as well… a husband, a wife, a mom, a dad, grandparents, siblings, dear friends. It gives not only life but gives time, as well. And those are two of the greatest gifts of all.

The Holidays are coming into full swing. This time of year is full of miracles, cheer, love and joy. Traditions are upheld, and new ones are made. Family draws near, and peace and goodwill come to the fore. There are so many more wonderful things brought about by the holidays, too many to mention all.

Excepting the unpredictable weather, it’s probably my favorite time of the year. Really…

Some years the Holidays can feel downright amazing! But for me, every once in a while, and for many others in – varying in degrees of time and intensity – it can be one of the most difficult, even painful times.

No need to smother your grieving friend.. Your continued support and presence is likely enough. Knowing you remember us and are there is a real gift in itself.

But please be mindful in your encouragement. Hearing things like “buck it up, let it go & celebrate” or “you really need to try to be happy this time of year” do not come off as helpful or well meaning. They are hurtful and insensitive.

While you’re looking forward to and celebrating all the get togethers, good food, and presents we remember past celebrations with loved ones and how it will never be the same, not this year or next.

We miss our love one’s presence, and what the holiday could have been with them. We feel it very keenly.

And though through time it will likely get easier, it never fully goes away. We are never fully healed. It’s just a part of who we are, who we will always now be.

Again, just continue to love us. To be our friend. To be there when we need. To celebrate amazing moments with us. Take joy in the new memories you help us make. Living life with us, lifting us up in the moments we feel little less than alive is a gift beyond measure…

The day a child dies is, without question, the worst day ever. No ifs, ands or buts. To tell a grieving parent otherwise is like a slap in the face.

This is the day a parent finds themselves unwillingly in the Grieving Parents Club. No one wants to be a member here. In fact I’m pretty sure that any parent who has lost their child would give up anything (other than another immediate family member) to never have joined.

Grief is grief. It’s a horrible place to be. When you lose parents you’re an orphan. When your spouse dies you are a widow or a widower. There is no name for a parent that loses a child. It’s too unfathomable.

We, the family, are now in the worst pain anyone can possibly endure. The pain is so intense we feel we are drowning in it. Or just as horribly we go numb, feeling escapes us. It’s a truly awful way to be, even for a short time.

I remember my family’s hairdresser had cleared some time for just us, before the funeral. The woman ahead of my appointment probably had no idea, and was happily chatting up the hairdresser as she was trying to hurry this woman out the door. I was startled to feel the thoughts raise me out of my fog just long enough to slam me with the realization that this woman’s world had not stopped like mine had. That others were continuing, that their worlds and their lives were marching on. How was that even possible? That they were still living. That I may never really be, ever again.

With that in mind, please remember that the friend or family member may now become a sort of lifesaver. Their actions and words in the next few days, weeks, months and years may help bring us back to shore.

If an acquaintance, a kind action or word will suffice. Please think it through before you say something well meaning.

If closer than that, just be there for us. Let us know you are there, and be willing to follow through. This is probably really uncomfortable, but at this time please remember it’s not about you.

Don’t try to fix this for us. You can’t. Not ever.

Don’t get frustrated when your friend can’t move on in a certain amount of time. Like it or not, there is no time limit for grief. Many months or years later you may find that your time, your love, your words and actions made all the difference in world.

By now you know I’ve lost a child. I’m not really sure why we say that – “lost a child” or we “lost someone”. Our dear one is not playing an especially effective game of hide and seek. That would be far preferable. What we mean, simply put, is that someone near to us has died.

Life as we knew it is no more. Period.

Friends and family now have lots of questions. They may want to know things like “What can I do to help make things a little easier for my friend?”, “How can I help them with their loss when I am hurting, too?”, “Is there something I can take to them, or do for them?”, or “What can I say that can bring comfort?”

Then later will come more questions like “Why is she not moving on?”, “Why won’t he go back to being more normal?”, or “Why do they cope that way?”.

Our own friends and even some family members had these same questions. Very few had known anyone who had gone through something similar. We all muddled through it, some well and some really not so well.

This is a crossroad. For the family most definitely, but for relationships and friendships as well. Things will never be the same. Just as the wrong things said or done at this time can bring further grief and devastation… the right things said and done can bring an enormous amount of comfort and healing.

I can’t stress the second part of that last sentence enough. The person grieving is still your family, still your friend. Just be there. That, in itself, is help..

Be yourself; Everyone else is already taken.

— Oscar Wilde.

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