Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #childloss

Loss and Lessons Learned

February 19, 2023 /

We live with grief. Emily Graham does too.  In her book, “Confessions of Child Loss”, Emily shares with us the death of her seven-year-old son Cameron. Her story is an honest recalling of how being thrown into the community, the “Child Loss Club” changed her outlook on life.

She shares with us the dark side of what happens when grief moves in. How it numbed her emotions and had her struggle as she needed to continue being there for her two daughters. She talks about the fears of forgetting him and the questions from strangers of how many kids do you have.  What happened to your son? The grief bursts that accompany these conversations.

She speaks the universal language of the grief community and reveals how time and a desire to never say goodbye to Cameron brought her forward. She shares what wonders can come to be when we believe that they are still here. The signs, related to Cameron like the number 12 showing up in unexplainable ways; seeing synchronicities supported her change of thinking from ‘he is gone’ to ‘he is here still’.  With that belief, she began talking to her son’s spirit, playing games in the car with his energy, and looking for more signs. Which she received.  She tells us this brings a shift into your brokenness. For her, these activities inspired her to strive to be a better version of herself.  

Emily writes that grief does not end, but that from her experience, it will change.  She gives five suggestions to help you alter your grief.

  1. Redefine your grief experience.
  2. Lean into the pain.
  3. Reach acceptance…not the same as approval. We are not ok with it, but we must accept what happened.
  4. Self care is critical.
  5. Connection to our child…the relationship continues after death, talk about them, bring them forward with you.

Personally, I struggle with suggestion number 3. She is farther ahead in her journey than I am, so perhaps with further time I might get there.  Suggestion number 5 is what I found the most exciting.  It coincides with a line in her book, my favorite line, giving hope.   “You no longer have to live without them.  You can live with them in a different way.”  Here’s to that.

Preplans of our Souls

October 24, 2021 /

It is said that we arrive on earth having already chosen our family and our path as part of what we need to learn and to teach with our days here on earth.  When that is achieved, we leave.  Earth is a school of the spiritual realm.  And a very difficult one at best.

Understanding soul plans brings some peace to me.  We fret over the questions of why and what if, that allude to “how could I have controlled this from happening?”  Soul plans remind us we have no control over such.  Our power of control has only the capacity to strive towards our desires, our goals, choosing our actions and our reactions to what we meet on our path.  The big picture we had already planned.

The people who we meet, our families, our friends, even our associates, play a part in shaping us. If we are open to when these people arrive and how we feel around them we begin to understand ourselves better.  We begin to see patterns of behavior that we can reinforce or remove. Our connections, on a soul level, are to bring us enlightenment. I think that is a pretty cool concept. Who doesn’t want to be a better version of themselves?  Who doesn’t want peace and purpose?  According to soul plans, the idea to embrace what life gives you and learn from it and share this with others is why we are here.

I have had mothers ask me, if this is true, why would I choose to be a grieving mother?  To which I reply, why would your child have chosen you?

If soul plans exist, I can’t imagine how that conversation would go. This tiny spirit had an agreement with you to come here as your child, knowing they would leave first.   Who would agree to such pain? And yet, here we are.  I wonder if the mother in our soul, the caregiver we are, agreed because of love. Perhaps we knew this child would need us in the most universal way and we agreed because of love. And perhaps, just as big, we needed them. This love transcended across the realms into this life as mother and son. Love was what brought us together, to experience a multitude of emotions, learning and supporting each other’s spirit to grow.

Pondering this, I wrote a letter to Zane.

“…If what I read is true; if we as spirits make a plan before we arrive on earth as humans, we knew each other before we were mother and son.  We each had our lesson to learn, and we chose each other to come together to experience this. Your life of adventure and discovery and pushing the limits, an example to the rest of us, a reminder to live life fully. What lessons you taught us.  Thank you. And what, my sweet son, were the lessons you learned…”

We will never know if a soul plan is a real thing.  For me, I try to put the why am I in this role on a shelf.  I am not sure it will ever make sense. But the idea that I had known Zane before brings hope I will play another role with him again.

Once a Mother, Always a Mother

May 9, 2021 /

There is something innate about being a mother. It is a knowing of the responsibility bestowed upon us to care and protect this tiny spirit. And as it grows, our life is filled with sleepless nights and worry and a million decisions of how best to nurture this growing human being. Life revolves around our children.  Our identity becomes, “I am mother”.

When your child passes, your whole being is shattered, including the answer to, “am I still a mother?” I no longer have a child that I can physically hold or care for. I no longer have a child that I can snap pictures of or dream future experiences for. All the factors about being a mother, as society has defined a mother to be, are gone.

My fellow grief warrior moms struggle with the questions asked by strangers, “do you have children? How many?” Our angst comes from how much do we want to share and how much can we share without breaking down?  We must remember, once a mother, always a mother.

I believe that the role of mother is one bestowed upon us for OUR lifetime. And therefore, until my last breath I am a mother. I have welcomed into my home and my heart several kids I call my own; I gave birth to two children.  I relish in the role of mother. It is a position of care and influence and love.  It takes work, fret and prayer to carry out this role. The benefits are many, out numbering the heartaches. Including the biggest heartache, death.

When asked would you be a mother if you knew losing your child would be part of the plan, the answer is a strong, hell yes. I gave birth to Zane.  I am his mother. I will always be his mother. Death does not change that. What it does do is change being his mother from a traditional role into something new. That is the hard part. 

How do we mother our child’s spirit? We honor them.  We protect their memory. We say their name. We believe that they are still with us and we learn new ways to reach out to them. We celebrate what should have been, like holidays and milestones and everyday favorites. We are their mother.

“Do you have children?” The answer, for me, is “Yes, I have two”.  I will always have two.

To Change the Room, or Not

February 7, 2021 /

Zane was living at home when he was killed. He was finishing school and wanted to move out when he didn’t have school and car costs…the plan was after graduation.  We had developed a suite for him downstairs and it was like his own little apartment.  His friends would kid him about why would he ever want to move out.  It was convenient and it gave me more time with him than most mothers had with their young adult children who had moved out.  In hindsight, his living at home was a gift.

There is no right way to do grief.  That includes what to do with your child’s belongings.  Some have left the room as is.  Others have taken everything down but a few mementos.  I have friends whose child was not living at home, who have created a space in their home of all their child’s favorite things as a place to be with their memories and their child’s spirit.   

We have not touched Zane’s room.  His laundry basket still sits there with a load of dirty laundry to be done.  His bar fridge holds his water and Gatorade bottles. His room is as it was two and a half years ago.  I keep the door shut and I still knock on it before I enter. My therapist suggested opening the door to his clothes closet just slightly, putting my hand in to touch a shirt or two and then closing it again.  She felt that it might get easier doing repetitive ‘touch-ins’ which would then enable me to start packing up his things. I can open the closet fully now but I am not ready to box his belongings.

My husband has suggested we paint it. Or make it into a guest room.  When in his room I give thought to this, to what could be options. The answer is always, “we will do nothing, it is Zane’s room.”

When I enter his room, the smells and his invisible energy and the sight of how life was when he stayed here wraps around me and pulls me in.  I will sit on his bed and look around and I can almost see him sitting next to me, remembering the conversations we had. “I’m thinking of moving my bed to the other wall…” or “where should I hang my picture I bought at Stampede?” He is so very real in this room.

The resistance to change his room is not something I want to face.  Changing his room into whatever that might be, is too big a task for my heart to consider.  I am not sure when I will be ready.  I am not giving it a deadline; I will know when it is time.  For now, if I see a plant or a candle or a book that he would enjoy, I buy it.  And I add it to his room. 

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