I have been putting this one off for awhile. It's nothing groundbreaking. It's something that people, parents, have faced since the beginning of time, the beginning of bereavement. But I've put it off in order to accept it myself and while I still am not sure that has happened, I think I'll feel better to get it out.
There's a heaviness. This weight comes every year as spring starts to form, a day here and there of warmth. These are the days Keely was alive. This is the time of year we had so much hope and just as the sun started to warm us up for the year, we lost her. It's inevitable that this time of year brings on emotions, good and bad. But this year is a turning point, I think. It is at least another phase.
I can look out at my future, whatever it may bring and have at least one certainty. If I live to be 100, I'll still miss her. I'll still wonder. I'll still look at girls/women the age she would have been and see if I can catch of glimpse of what she'd be like today. To accept that fact is overwhelming.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Open letter to the newly bereaved...
An old friend of mine was sitting at a red light today and in a split second, her whole life changed. Her 2 year old son was killed when another vehicle ran a red light. Like so many people around her, from her past or even those who don't know her, I want to DO something. I want to help ease their pain somehow, when I know all too well nothing can be done.
My mind keeps wandering back to them. It's hard to imagine on this chilly yet sunny day that someone's entire world is crashing around them. Not one or two people but many, many lives were touched by this little boy and now, by his death. These are their darkest hours. Nothing can be done.
My immediate response is to reach out, to let her know that I'm here if she needs me. Without a doubt they are in shock right now. covered in people and questions, caring for their other child who is still in the hospital. I know they need time and that time will come when all these people surrounding them will go back to their lives and then, the bereaved are left to their grief. Their fresh grief. It seems so daunting, but nothing can be done.
I want to write something that will help guide the newly bereaved. To help them know what to expect, to help them understand don't bother "expecting". I just feel the need to write. Maybe one person will tuck this away in their head or one person who needs it will read it and the ripples of Keely's waves will continue....
1. Every journey of bereavement is different. Every mother, father, sibling, friend will be affected by the death of your child. Everybody affected will react in a different way to each day. You have to carve your own trail and look deep within yourself. Your feelings are okay.
____________________________________________________________________________
I wrote the beginning of this post 6 months ago. To be honest, I don't know why I didn't post it. It sat in my draft box unfinished for all this time. Maybe I felt it wasn't my story to tell or that it was too soon. Maybe it's still, after nearly 7 years of my own bereavement, too fresh for me. Any time I hear of someone losing their child, it comes back to me; those dark early days. Unthinkable before and unspeakable after. Those early, dark days.
But I will finish my open letter. And anyone bereaved, feel free to add your own in the comments if you so wish.
_____________________________________________________________________________
2. The road will get more smooth. Sort of. No bereaved parent ever wants to hear that their grief or pain will go away, to give it time or that you'll feel better. And nobody EVER wants to hear that from someone who isn't bereaved. But, I can tell you that it changes, it evolves. It becomes a part of you in a way that I can't put into words. It will always, always be there but over time, those darkest hours will become less. The dark time will rear its ugly head and you'll face it again. But not every day, not every hour.
3. Your child will not be forgotten. Seriously. That was one of my major concerns. I wanted to make sure she was included. In my number of kids, in my parents' number of grandkids. I was afraid if I didn't make it happen, it wouldn't. I was vigilant. I still am, but I don't feel the constant pressure that I once did. I have found a lot of comfort in the ways other people remember. They really do. Even if they don't always mention it, they remember. Not everyone, but a lot of them.
To be continued...
My mind keeps wandering back to them. It's hard to imagine on this chilly yet sunny day that someone's entire world is crashing around them. Not one or two people but many, many lives were touched by this little boy and now, by his death. These are their darkest hours. Nothing can be done.
My immediate response is to reach out, to let her know that I'm here if she needs me. Without a doubt they are in shock right now. covered in people and questions, caring for their other child who is still in the hospital. I know they need time and that time will come when all these people surrounding them will go back to their lives and then, the bereaved are left to their grief. Their fresh grief. It seems so daunting, but nothing can be done.
I want to write something that will help guide the newly bereaved. To help them know what to expect, to help them understand don't bother "expecting". I just feel the need to write. Maybe one person will tuck this away in their head or one person who needs it will read it and the ripples of Keely's waves will continue....
1. Every journey of bereavement is different. Every mother, father, sibling, friend will be affected by the death of your child. Everybody affected will react in a different way to each day. You have to carve your own trail and look deep within yourself. Your feelings are okay.
____________________________________________________________________________
I wrote the beginning of this post 6 months ago. To be honest, I don't know why I didn't post it. It sat in my draft box unfinished for all this time. Maybe I felt it wasn't my story to tell or that it was too soon. Maybe it's still, after nearly 7 years of my own bereavement, too fresh for me. Any time I hear of someone losing their child, it comes back to me; those dark early days. Unthinkable before and unspeakable after. Those early, dark days.
But I will finish my open letter. And anyone bereaved, feel free to add your own in the comments if you so wish.
_____________________________________________________________________________
2. The road will get more smooth. Sort of. No bereaved parent ever wants to hear that their grief or pain will go away, to give it time or that you'll feel better. And nobody EVER wants to hear that from someone who isn't bereaved. But, I can tell you that it changes, it evolves. It becomes a part of you in a way that I can't put into words. It will always, always be there but over time, those darkest hours will become less. The dark time will rear its ugly head and you'll face it again. But not every day, not every hour.
3. Your child will not be forgotten. Seriously. That was one of my major concerns. I wanted to make sure she was included. In my number of kids, in my parents' number of grandkids. I was afraid if I didn't make it happen, it wouldn't. I was vigilant. I still am, but I don't feel the constant pressure that I once did. I have found a lot of comfort in the ways other people remember. They really do. Even if they don't always mention it, they remember. Not everyone, but a lot of them.
To be continued...
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
A day to remember...
October 15th
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day
A wave of light will sweep the world at 7 pm across all time zones
In loving remembrance of the beautiful little souls who passed through this world far too quickly.
Light a candle at 7 pm and remember with all of our broken hearts.
XOXO
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day
A wave of light will sweep the world at 7 pm across all time zones
In loving remembrance of the beautiful little souls who passed through this world far too quickly.
Light a candle at 7 pm and remember with all of our broken hearts.
XOXO
Friday, October 4, 2013
In remembrance...
Time has marched on. In the time since I last posted, Keely has become a big sister once again. Though this time, it's a bit different. Our only other daughter was born. Keely now has a sister of her own. She came to us safely July 31st. She's beautiful and an old soul. So often, we wonder what should've been with her big sister; what kind of bond might they have had. What kind of bond might they have now that we can't possibly understand?
We also built and moved into our forever house. We have a beautiful garden in the works for Keely. I love having a place just for her right in our yard. Her grave is an hour and a half away from us. While I'm glad she's buried with my grandmother, it hurts not being able to visit her everyday. Now we have a place of remembrance and that makes my heart sing. The anchor of her garden is a weeping cherry tree. Perfect.
We are preparing for the holidays and have decided to do a random act of kindness each day for the month of November.
So often throughout November, we are reminded to be grateful. Our family has been so blessed. Yes, we've had heartache and miss a member of our family everyday, but we had her. And that means we're lucky. We have each other and plenty to eat. We have our health and love and so many other things. We want to spread our gratitude out. Each day in November, we'll do one random act of kindness to reach out to someone else. We're starting a list and making a schedule. Any ideas are greatly appreciated. I'm trying to make it not always about money, but about time and thought.
Some of our plans include:
~drawing pictures for people at Great Grandma's nursing home.
~picking up trash at a park
~buying a coffee for the person in line behind or in front of us
~donating time at a community kitchen
~packing care packages for soldiers and families of soldiers
~donating old toys
I look forward to documenting our month of kindness on Keely's blog and hoping that it catches on. We'd love to hear more ideas!
Though she's gone from this earth, her spirit lives on.
XOXO
We also built and moved into our forever house. We have a beautiful garden in the works for Keely. I love having a place just for her right in our yard. Her grave is an hour and a half away from us. While I'm glad she's buried with my grandmother, it hurts not being able to visit her everyday. Now we have a place of remembrance and that makes my heart sing. The anchor of her garden is a weeping cherry tree. Perfect.
We are preparing for the holidays and have decided to do a random act of kindness each day for the month of November.
So often throughout November, we are reminded to be grateful. Our family has been so blessed. Yes, we've had heartache and miss a member of our family everyday, but we had her. And that means we're lucky. We have each other and plenty to eat. We have our health and love and so many other things. We want to spread our gratitude out. Each day in November, we'll do one random act of kindness to reach out to someone else. We're starting a list and making a schedule. Any ideas are greatly appreciated. I'm trying to make it not always about money, but about time and thought.
Some of our plans include:
~drawing pictures for people at Great Grandma's nursing home.
~picking up trash at a park
~buying a coffee for the person in line behind or in front of us
~donating time at a community kitchen
~packing care packages for soldiers and families of soldiers
~donating old toys
I look forward to documenting our month of kindness on Keely's blog and hoping that it catches on. We'd love to hear more ideas!
Though she's gone from this earth, her spirit lives on.
XOXO
Thursday, April 11, 2013
this is the day
6 years ago right now, I was in labor. I remember every otherwise mundane moment of that day.
We watched a reality show on the WE network about a wedding. It was awful. My dad brought back Red Robin for everybody there (aside from me, I wasn't allowed to eat). I wore pink slip on tennis shoes, a gray tank top, and black zip up shirt/pants to arrive. When I told the receptionist I was there for an induction, she looked at me with a most confused expression and said "YOU are being induced?". And then she looked at her records...
So many little details that I remember so vividly and I'm not sure I ever recorded. For some reason, this year it feels important to write it all down. 6 years is a long time.
Usually, the days and weeks leading up to the actual anniversaries (of death and birth) are harder than the actual day. Usually, the actual day is a bit of a relief. Not this year.
This year, the sky opened up with rain, the sun hasn't peeked out all day and I feel so tired. I wanted badly to go to sleep last night and wake up tomorrow.
As we left school from walking my oldest son in, a very excited little girl and her mother were hurrying into school. They were carrying cupcakes with the number 6 on them.
We got lovely flowers from my mom and dad, to be planted in a garden just for Keely once our home construction is completed in a couple of months. I so wish she were here to smell them and feel like a big girl for receiving flowers.
But her reward is much greater than pride and more fragrant than azaleas.
Missing my little girl so much today. Every day, but especially on this day, the 6th anniversary of the first and last day I held her earthly body, saw those toes cross like my own, held her tiny hand. 6 years too long.
XOXO
We watched a reality show on the WE network about a wedding. It was awful. My dad brought back Red Robin for everybody there (aside from me, I wasn't allowed to eat). I wore pink slip on tennis shoes, a gray tank top, and black zip up shirt/pants to arrive. When I told the receptionist I was there for an induction, she looked at me with a most confused expression and said "YOU are being induced?". And then she looked at her records...
So many little details that I remember so vividly and I'm not sure I ever recorded. For some reason, this year it feels important to write it all down. 6 years is a long time.
Usually, the days and weeks leading up to the actual anniversaries (of death and birth) are harder than the actual day. Usually, the actual day is a bit of a relief. Not this year.
This year, the sky opened up with rain, the sun hasn't peeked out all day and I feel so tired. I wanted badly to go to sleep last night and wake up tomorrow.
As we left school from walking my oldest son in, a very excited little girl and her mother were hurrying into school. They were carrying cupcakes with the number 6 on them.
We got lovely flowers from my mom and dad, to be planted in a garden just for Keely once our home construction is completed in a couple of months. I so wish she were here to smell them and feel like a big girl for receiving flowers.
But her reward is much greater than pride and more fragrant than azaleas.
Missing my little girl so much today. Every day, but especially on this day, the 6th anniversary of the first and last day I held her earthly body, saw those toes cross like my own, held her tiny hand. 6 years too long.
XOXO
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Words can't really describe
6 years ago today, at 11:20 am, we watched as that beautiful heartbeat stopped and our girl slipped into the arms of God.
How precious was the time we had with you and how blessed we are to still feel you near.
We love you every second of every day, to the moon and back. We miss you with every bone in our bodies, every second of every day. We remember you and honor you with every breath.
Words elude me today.
I love you, Keely. So many love you.
Someday, baby girl.
XOXO
How precious was the time we had with you and how blessed we are to still feel you near.
We love you every second of every day, to the moon and back. We miss you with every bone in our bodies, every second of every day. We remember you and honor you with every breath.
Words elude me today.
I love you, Keely. So many love you.
Someday, baby girl.
XOXO
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Is this ever normal?
It will have been 6 years next Tuesday that we watched that sweet heartbeat stop.
We are leaving now to go to the flower shop and choose new flowers for her grave.
Does a mother or father ever get used to choosing flowers for their child's grave? It seems that if it were going to happen, it would have by now. There are times that it feels normal but most times, I remind myself that this isn't a dream. She was real. She was here. She is gone.
We will send two dozen pink balloons plus a very special ones her brothers choose for her into the sky on Saturday.
The world will go on. We will go on. But we will take her with us in each and every breath. And beyond.
XOXO
We are leaving now to go to the flower shop and choose new flowers for her grave.
Does a mother or father ever get used to choosing flowers for their child's grave? It seems that if it were going to happen, it would have by now. There are times that it feels normal but most times, I remind myself that this isn't a dream. She was real. She was here. She is gone.
We will send two dozen pink balloons plus a very special ones her brothers choose for her into the sky on Saturday.
The world will go on. We will go on. But we will take her with us in each and every breath. And beyond.
XOXO
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