Showing posts with label A Mother's Grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Mother's Grief. Show all posts

Friday, August 5, 2011

Saturday's Sayings - Notes from Earth to Heaven: A mother's grief



Notes from Earth to Heaven: A mother's grief: "How does one go on after losing a child ? How does one weather this indescribable , horrific and unimaginable , life devouring tragedy. ..."




How does one weather this indescribable, horrific and unimaginable, life devouring tragedy.

Like an insurmountable tsunami, it overtakes the soul, ravenously spewing and slamming and swallowing what little was left of us in our grief and what was once our world, regurgitating a sea of mixed, raw emotions and lifeless unfulfilled dreams.



Saturday's Sayings


A mother's grief: How does one go on after losing a child?


~ by FND




Written Sunday, July 24, 2011

by Grieving Mother, FND


How does one weather this indescribable, horrific and unimaginable, life devouring tragedy.


Like an insurmountable tsunami, it overtakes the soul, ravenously spewing and slamming and swallowing what little was left of us in our grief and what was once our world, regurgitating a sea of mixed, raw emotions and lifeless unfulfilled dreams.


Rising up, raging waves of pain come upon the soul without warning. Consuming, and thrashing and sucking the life out of every thought and action, it leaves behind hopelessness, sorrow, helplessness and disbelief in its wake.


Memories strung and left in the sand of the heart, limp and almost unrecognizable, past, present and future dreams are broken and swallowed by a sea of pain.


"If only's" looming everywhere coming in and out and at the shore of our tear ducts, clouding all that we see and can't see, like seaweed and broken shells, and remnants of misplaced belongings that once adorned a castle overlooking a majestic view.


Sharp regrets and fingers pointing, hard to grasp. like glass too sharp to handle stabbing and piercing the heart and distressing our footing and balance, leave us feeling weak.


Planks of what was once a vessel that carried our trust, our hopes, our dreams, our faith of something much larger than ourselves, protected, suddenly seem abandoned, merely splinters left behind.


The precious child is suddenly swept up and seemingly snatched up by a force more powerful than a mighty ocean, and one is left to drown in sorrow. The lightning from the raging storm is blinding and shockingly electrifying, causing all sleep to vanish. One is kept up through the night tossing and turning, ebbing and flowing with thoughts of desperation and a cry for help one moment, wishing to be taken to be joined in death the next.


When and how can one come to the point of a peaceful acceptance and welcomed surrender? How does one recreate their brokenness, emptiness and devastating loss to experience even for a moment or day or season a partial restoration, healing and wholeness? When will the world stop its mundane dance of busy ness (sic) in front of me, even just for a moment and feel the vacancy, Consciously honor that life that was lost, so I know they see how my child lived and mattered and acknowledge soberly that the world will never be the same again without him. When will the sun shine again within.


How can one experience the absence of this child who was woven in the fibers of their mother's being and from their father's seed.


This child, quietly growing, heart beating with the pulse of the universe, beckoning to be born, restless limbs pushing against the walls, to enter this life and to grow and create transcendance (sic) for mankind perhaps and change the world, even in the slightest way. This child hides in the intimacy of the secret place and the safety of the womb, waiting for their appointed time to explode with breath into being and realizing the fulness of their destiny and true potential.



The death of a world, of a universe happened to all of us when that child died, we need to grieve the loss of this child and their potentiality. We need to mourn what the world lost, what could have been created thru their realm of being. this life was sacred. this life was unique and brilliant and full of love and promise and hugs and smiles and help and hope and kindness and laughter and true purpose that only that child could fulfill.



Ineffectively I try to find the words to tell you how I am feeling, trying to take "my personal self out of it" so that maybe I can help someone who has no words tell the others who have not lost a child, "I am grieving, I hurt, I can't be silenced or soothed by those who have not shared this journey and try to fix this. Be a listening ear, a kind nod, a comforting whisper, a warm embrace but please don't tell me its (sic) time to move on. Don't give me advice unless I ask for it, and please count and consider your words. Sometimes silence expresses more completely since this life could not possibly be put into words without losing something in the telling. It and he was too magnificient (sic) and unique for you to try. Please don't use cliques (sic) like "God won't give you more than you can handle," "Things happen for a reason," Its (sic) time to pick yourself up." Just be compassionate and comfortable with me talking about it and don't shut me out when you feel awkward or tired of hearing about it. Be there for me if you can or send a card, but please help me grieve, don't shut me out or tell me it will get better. Just find a way to help me through. Share stories and laughter and let his memories illuminate through your recollection. I say this for each and every one of our children, I mean this for all of us. I am sorry for your loss and mine and the worlds' (sic) loss.


This first blog while dramatic still doesn't free me from my deepest groaning, so I write this as a futile exercise in trying to bring what is deeply felt to bring it to the surface. For those who care to share and to read my blog. Someone said to me heartlessly right after my son's death..."where is your God now?" For now I am focused on now, just now, for now is all I can manage. Until I see a glimpse of heaven, the God I choose to believe in is there in the midst of my storm. I can't always see him in the darkness, I can't say I'm done saying "where were you?" But I am leaning on someone who is holding me up and giving me courage to breathe and walk and live through another day.




Please visit this precious grieving mother's blog to visit this post and other sweet posts of hers:


Notes from Earth to Heaven: A mother's grief: "How does one go on after losing a child ? How does one weather this indescribable, horrific and unimaginable, life devouring tragedy...."









http://notesfromearthtoheaven.blogspot.com/


Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Wednesday's Woe - ~Death Changes Everything~ - Poem by TeriAnn Sargent






Wednesday's Woe


~Death Changes Everything~


Poem by TeriAnn Sargent





So many lonely nights just struggling to survive


death takes you to places you've never been...


It destroys all your plans and dreams


it takes away your reason for seeking joy


your reason for believing in the future




Years may roll by...


but never a time will come


for your heart to heal and move on...


Death chains what is left of your heart


to that one single moment in time


...and it never lets go




Death steals away a love


you just can't live without


leaves an empty parody


of what you used to be...


Your body lives in the physical realm


but your heart and soul are lost


to another time and place




It's not about the love you still have


for that is cherished as it always was...


It's about the life that is gone


the part of yourself


you have to exist without




when death steals your child it also steals...


a brother or sister


an uncle or aunty


a nephew or niece


a grandson or granddaughter


a cousin


a Godfather or Godmother


a friend


a colleague


a son or daughter-in-law


your future grandchildren




Death steals whole futures


and leaves you with only the past




Pictures and objects


and love in your heart...


Memories to treasure


from which you'll never part




All these...


for long lonely years


you have to make last




~TeriAnn Sargent ©2011

(Grieving mother of Jarred Sargent)






Thank you to TeriAnn Sargent, a fellow grieving mother, for her gracious permission to share her poignant grief poem with you.










Picture, thanks to am digital art
Poem, ~Death Changes Everything~ thanks to TeriAnn Sargent, grieving mother

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Friday's Faith Can a Good God Be a Cosmic Sadist? ~by Angie Prince, with C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed






Friday's Faith

Can a Good God Be a Cosmic Sadist?

~by Angie Prince

with C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed



The terrible thing is that a perfectly good God is in this matter hardly less formidable than a cosmic sadist.


The more we believe that God hurts only to heal, the less we can believe that there is any use in begging for tenderness. A cruel man might be bribed--might grow tired of his vile spirit--might have a temporary fit of mercy, as alcoholics have fits of sobriety.


But suppose that what you are up against is a surgeon whose intentions are wholly good. The kinder and more conscientious he is, the more inexorably he will go on cutting. If he yielded to your entreaties, if he stopped before the operation was complete, all the pain up to that point would have been useless.


But is it credible that such extremities of torture should be necessary for us? Well, take your choice. The tortures occur. If they are unnecessary, then there is no God or a bad one. If there is a good God, then these tortures are necessary. For no even moderately good Being could possibly inflict or permit them if they weren't.

Either way, we're for it.

What do people mean 'I am not afraid of God because I know He is good?' Have they never been to a dentist?

~C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


*****


Early on in our grief, my son Nathan and I would talk and would agree that if our God felt the need to take Merry Katherine at the time He did, it must have been what was best for her in the long run, and as much as we love her, we want what is best for her, even if it means we will suffer the rest of our lives. She is safe, and she is in Heaven. Well, God gave us many, many moments of grace like this early on...


Living this faith out has been a living nightmare, often feeling more like a living hell.

I even had the audacity early on to say to Tommy,


"We did everything we knew to do (and then some) to try to keep her alive, but now she is in Heaven, safe with God. So now we just grieve; how hard can that be?"


Sounds great on paper. But the devil is in the details as they say. And it seems every detail is like living hell. Every day is painful in its own unique way. Every day we miss her. Every day we realize how much our worlds have changed without her in it. Every day we feel the parent's angst of losing our little one before we could even get her launched into life.


And yet indeed, the truth still remains: God is good. He works everything--ultimately--to our good. He has conquered death. Our baby girl is alive--just away from home here, but safely Home There. And we do trust God. We don't understand all His ways. But we know He knows what He is doing. And we know His ways are not our ways. But we know His way ultimately wins.


Even so, her loss is painful. Every day is a walk of faith. Every day is a trial of faith. We walk "without seeing," and so our faith muscles are stretched every day. It is hard. We cry. We are comforted. And then we hurt again, and cry more. We miss her. We love her. We long for her. Our bodies, hearts, minds, and souls have been traumatized.


We have been face-to-face with the devil and his work, facing evil of the worst kind. We have seen death itself. We have seen not only death, but the death of our own child. We know evil now like we've never known it, and we will never be the same.


We walk with a limp. We often barely function. We live the invisible disability. Cortisol courses through our bodies. We don't recognize ourselves any longer. We are accident-prone. We are not thinking clearly.


We still have the graces of early on, of knowing she is with our Lord which is an absolute blessing. But never, ever should anyone think this walk is easy. It is a life interlaced with debilitating pain.


The Surgeon would not stop before the operation was complete or all the pain up to that point would have been useless....


but what if, in the process, He cut out our hearts...?










Pictures thanks to FotoSearch.com

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Friday's Faith - Peek-A-Boo





Friday's Faith


Peek-A-Boo!




Peek-a-boo, I-see-you!

How oft did we play that game?

What if then, we really knew...

If one would leave, the other would never be the same?



Peek-a-boo, I-see-you!

~A very first game of a child...

Is this an innate urge to...

With baby and mommy, death t' reconcile?



Peek-a-boo, I-see-you,

Now-I-see-you, Now-I-don't!

I see you now baby,

But then you are gone.

And yet, the end of the story maybe

Is not that you are gone,


But ~ I'll see you again when I'm Home!



~ABP












Picture: Thanks to FotoSearch.com
Poem - Peek-A-Boo! - Angie Bennett Prince - 1/20/2011