Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #missingyou

Memorial Tribute to Dan

March 5, 2023 /

Dear Dan,

Today marks one year since we held your hand and said our goodbyes. It seems like yesterday we were laughing about life’s absurdities and giving thanks we were in it together. It also seems like it was a lifetime ago. Your death was different than Zane’s.  I was able to say goodbye to you.  I was able to tell you how much I loved you. I was able to make promises about life after you leave.

Your leaving has brought changes, big changes.   These past twelve months, I have watched your family struggle without you. I have done my best to be there for them, a vow I made to you.  The impact you had on us is clear. The love and attention we received from you is missing.

I remain steadfast that your name comes first. I have watched your bed side predictions come to life and have struggled to cope with the new realities. I hope you know that I try. You knew better. Perhaps your predictions were not that at all.  Perhaps they were perceptions; that you knew, standing on the doorstep of death, what was coming.  Your soft-spoken words were not a request of me but an assurance for me that you knew.  It would be ok. I am going to hold on to that. I like the notion that, from wherever you are, that you are smiling with an “I told you so”. You are with us, able to see our pain but cheering us on from the heavens to create a life that brings us each happiness.

We continue to celebrate you, mindful of putting into place things that will honor you. We have received ‘gifts’ from you; obvious ones like the closer relationship I now have with your sister. Not so obvious ones too, like your visits through the electrical power of my light turning on in the middle of the night. I thank you for all of these.

Perhaps year two we can be a little louder, a little bolder. Like you were.  I promise to continue to bring you with us. I promise to say your name. I promise that you will always be family. Death will not change that. And I wanted to thank you for the reminder that life will go on and that you are ok that it does. And therefore, we should be.

Look at you, Dan, continuing to teach from afar. Thank you. “I.O.U. big time”.  

Candle Lighting Day 2022

December 11, 2022 /

I am to light a candle today

In honor of, in remembrance of you

As if somehow not lighting it

I would forget you.

I have lit a candle every day,

Over two thousand days.

I light this candle,

In honor of you, of us

Of our life together.

I light this candle,

As an offering of hope

That you may see it and know

I am thinking of you.

I light this candle because

You are loved.

The flicker reminding me

How you enjoyed dancing through life,

Taking in all its’ pleasures.

I light this candle because it is like the brilliance of you,

How your smile shined, and your laugh lit up the room.

I light this candle because the moment

Reminds me that its scent, the smoke flickering

Is carried into the heavens, to you,

As a sort of spiritual connection.

I light this candle because its glow is warm, like your hug.

I light this candle because I am your mom

And I want to do something for you,

So, I light it.

Not just on candle lighting day

But every day.

Connecting Through Shared Stories

February 20, 2022 /

This past Super Bowl was a party at my daughter’s home with friends whom she inherited from Zane. It was the first bittersweet event of the year. It was a wonderful afternoon, each of us wearing our favorite team, bets placed, comfy chairs and lots too eat and drink. It was missing only one thing.  Zane.

Zane had a close group of friends fondly referred to as ‘La Familia’. When Zane was killed, his friends adopted our family, bringing us in to be a part of what Zane loved to do and who he loved to be with.  We all feel very lucky for that.  We have been invited to birthday parties, BBQ’s, holiday events and social afternoons. We know the invite comes to us out of respect for our son. (The picture above is one of the many get togethers with some friends to share stories).

When you lose a child, their friends become an important connection.  They share stories of adventures that you might not have known about.  They hold a different perspective of our children; they were friends, not parents or siblings. If given the opportunity to sit and talk with them, take it!

Listening to shared experiences they had with your child is no easy task. And watching these young friends live the life that your child was robbed of is painful. I am secretly dreading the upcoming weddings and children of their own that will fill their life with love. And yet, I want to be a part of their happiness. I want to know more about my son’s life and hear how he affected his friends lives.  These are the people that he chose to spend his time and energy with. Getting to know them, brings another dimension to who my son is. I want to hear his name and his friends are happy to share. It is a blessing that causes tears and smiles.

I was standing in the kitchen during half time and one of Zane’s closest friends came in to hug me. He said, “can’t you feel him? it’s like he is here with us” I agreed.  He hugged me and when he pulled back, he said, with tears in his eyes, “I just really miss him…” “I know, sweetie,” I replied and hugged him again, “we all do”.

That evening I realized that maybe there is more to his friends including us than just out of respect for Zane.  Perhaps they too feel that connection, through his family, that closeness to him.  They too hear a different perspective, different experiences that we know of that Zane had not shared with them. Together, as a group, through conversations, there develops a well-rounded image of all that my boy was.  And with our conversations continuing, of the person he will always be.

Putting on Yellow Rainboots

January 2, 2022 /

Here we are. 2022. A New Year. And yet nothing has changed.  You are still there.  I am still here. What will this year bring? More struggle, more sorrow?

What would you want for me?  I know not that. And yet, here I am. Perhaps this year I will try something different.  Something new. Perhaps this year I will put on yellow rainboots and splash in the puddles of my tears.

Perhaps I will hike, in yellow rainboots to new paths that I know we wanted to travel together. And I will carry my notebook, I will carry your camera.  And I will write about these adventures. 

I will take this year to notice the signs from you, from heaven, even more so. Your guidance will move me, in yellow rainboots, towards the sites we wish to go.

The rain can splash onto my yellow rainboots, each tiny drop bringing me a memory of you. A reminder that you are always beside me. That we walked this life together and that we still do.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be a better year with a pair of yellow rainboots. A sunny, yellow, symbol of hope. A comfortable, warm, protective apparel to move me forward.

Yes, perhaps this year I will find the strength to carry on with the help of a pair of yellow rainboots.

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