If you've been here to this blog before, thank you for reading these words, for listening to my story. I've so appreciated the comments and suggestions, the prayers ...
If you're just finding this spot now, welcome.
For the past twenty months this has been a safe spot for me to unwind my tangled brain and shattered heart, to put into words the process and pain of losing my seventeen year old daughter. I can imagine nothing harder, really, short of losing another beloved child. Lots of people have shared that this blog has helped them help others, or themselves, and I am truly glad for that. It started as a way to keep in touch with those who cared about us and wanting to know how we were doing. It served that purpose, helping us all walk together. I wrote nearly everyday for a while, and as life for us has taken on a new form, I write much less in such a public way. It's taken me a long time to find the best words to close this chapter of my story. There are no perfect words ...
The blog and all its previous posts will remain here. They're all honest, open entries that speak of my walk through, the fog, then the haze, and now ...in a little more light.
I would not have survived this without some key factors. The initial outpouring was tremendous and generous. People gave freely of themselves when Phoebe died ...time, money, food ...and prayer, the most important. And like anything, people return to their lives, as they should. Sadly, like our own in this house, other people's lives changed too. We have friends whose lives will not be the same again because Phoebe died, and we share that. Now, we make other memories in this 'new normal' of our lives.
And we have new friends who share our footsteps ...a bit ahead, the one's who reached their hands out and led us across the stepping stones. And there are new friends a bit newer to this loss than us ...we hold their hands, catch their tears ...promise they will learn the way. It is a unique kind of friendship ...a knowing, steady friendship. And unbelievably they know Phoebe ...and we know their kids too. That's how it works. Because God can do those kinds of things in abundance.
Most especially, I've survived through God's grace ...my wonderful kids and my husband ...we've walked this jagged path together, and we are still what we have always been ...a family.
Anyway, thanks for being here. I'll continue to write occasionally, just not in this venue. Several readers have already asked to be included in the circulation of new writing. If you'd like to be part of that please send me an email at carolynwalshpiw@gmail.com.
May you open your hearts to the weaving of God's grace in your life ...
Much love,
Carolyn (Phoebe's Mom)
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
Behold, I Make All Things New
"Behold, I make all things new." Rev. 21:5
And He does ...make all things new. Even, yes, even through the death of a child He makes all things new.
Months ago I wrote that I would finish with a final post ...and it has taken me months of writing and prayer to find the words I feel led and called to share. I have many drafts originally meant for this space, but none of them captured what truly was in my heart and what I knew would be best to say here.
Over the past few days, I've had time with most of the women in my life who have carried me over to safer ground. It's been a hectic week, school ending, different events ...summer rolling in, and squeezed in between has been the joy of friendships, sometimes only fleeting moments together, a few words exchanged. Each one has given shape to this post ...thank you, because each one, in her own way reflects a love that is rooted firmly in God. They are my beacons of light ...
I died when Phoebe died. My beautiful, feisty 17 year old girl died by suicide on October 9, 2010. I miss her ...very, very badly. I live with a rumble of panic just below the surface ...at all times. I scan the crowd, the coast, the streets, the fields, the sky for my daughter ...always looking. In my mind, I know I won't find her here ...but my heart will never stop searching for my girl. Some people are graced enough to understand the gravity, the intensity, the brutal devastation of losing a child ...without having lost one themselves. They've understood, guarded and guided me to a safer place, and have helped me look away from the people, places and things that are cruel ...they've helped me dismiss the mean things said about me, about my family ...and even about Phoebe. And in God's graciousness, He has pruned away things that really weren't authentic or genuine in the first place.
I have climbed a million miles since that moment, and I have survived. Slowly, I find myself able to join the living.
God transforms all things, He creates anew all things ...if we let Him. If we truly desire to follow Him, we will suffer ...it's part of what ties us to Him and the promise of redemption. I've grown to understand it isn't punishment for who we are or what we've done or not done ...it is simply and beautifully a gift inviting us to live within Him in this life. And we can respond to that invitation in three ways. We can out and out reject it, do everything we can to avoid it ...by not choosing God. We can be miserable in it, unwilling to change, undermining and maligning others while we play the victim for time on end (which is tempting for many), or we can experience sorrow, a true sadness that recognizes the hurt and pain of suffering, while at the same time recognizes, accepts and even embraces the redemptive gift of suffering. Misery and sorrow are not the same, in fact, they are polar opposites. Misery loves company and angles to get as much as it can ...it spreads discontent and malice, often secretly, undetected. Sorrow coexists with joy, like the Crucifixion coexists only with the Resurrection, true sorrow exists with hope and trust ...which will lead to joy. Misery leads to hatred, while sorrow leads to love ...true abiding love.
I've been around misery, been misled by it ...I don't want it in my life anymore. I live with sorrow, and while I can recognize all the good things of sorrow, I am praying for it to be truer and more fruitful in my life ...so that others can see that suffering is a part of the Christian walk, and that perceived and lived according to God ...it can be a true witness to His beauty and generosity. And for sure, I can write this at a time when the wave of sadness has receded in this moment. I strive to live true sorrow most especially in my deepest moments of pain ...because I simply love God and trust Him with all things ...because He can make all things new.
Suffer patiently, suffer willingly, suffer with joy are three things exemplified by the life of St. Paul. He lived a life of constant suffering and struggle after his conversion ...and he bore all of it with patience, willingness and joy. I want to be like that. It will be a lifetime of striving and restarts. But ...God has surrounded me with women who live just that ...an amazing collection of personalities who, quite honestly, have been given far more than their share of real suffering that is not chosen or cultivated by themselves ....and they are beams of light ...they stream joy right back at me, and all those around them. Smiles and laughter are their hallmarks in the midst of chaos, confusion and piercing moments of pain. They have cried with me, laughed with me, danced with me, prayed with me ...and sighed those long expirations of exhaustion with me, They have loved me well through this ...more importantly they have loved my family, and they continue to love Phoebe ....even in all of our brokenness.
Phoebe was a teenage girl, one who scoffed at conformity. She was not one to just do something because she was told, nor was she one to appear publicly one way for adults and another outside her home. Phoebe was an extraordinary girl who brought life into the lives of many of her friends. She did some stupid things, and the more I learn, not any different or stupider than her friends who may appear a bit more straight laced. Phoebe didn't care for people who talked one way and lived another ...in short, she did not care much for 'boring' people. She saw life to be lived, not contrived. A bike ride or a walk was adventure. A bike became a horse galloping the plains of the midwest and a walk might find you cresting the summit of Everest. So clearly in my mind I can see my backyard strewn with chair pads, towels, chairs and neighborhood bodies during an afternoon of playing the Titanic. Out their, on that lawn, they fought for their lives in the cold Atlantic, while 8 year old Phoebe barked orders. Life with Phoebe was rich and adventurous, and as it is with many teenagers, it could also be frustrating and annoying. Her young life took some twists and turns that stayed locked inside. And sadly, her life ended in a moment, a tragic moment.
Left behind, are the rest of us, her family ...my cherubs and husband, walking together to rebuild ...because of each other. We are blessed.
Lots of people shared in her life, and everyone has their own story to tell ..some will be kind, hopefully most. Our story, her story, is ours. These posts tell my story, a bit of it anyway.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
And He does ...make all things new. Even, yes, even through the death of a child He makes all things new.
Months ago I wrote that I would finish with a final post ...and it has taken me months of writing and prayer to find the words I feel led and called to share. I have many drafts originally meant for this space, but none of them captured what truly was in my heart and what I knew would be best to say here.
Over the past few days, I've had time with most of the women in my life who have carried me over to safer ground. It's been a hectic week, school ending, different events ...summer rolling in, and squeezed in between has been the joy of friendships, sometimes only fleeting moments together, a few words exchanged. Each one has given shape to this post ...thank you, because each one, in her own way reflects a love that is rooted firmly in God. They are my beacons of light ...
I died when Phoebe died. My beautiful, feisty 17 year old girl died by suicide on October 9, 2010. I miss her ...very, very badly. I live with a rumble of panic just below the surface ...at all times. I scan the crowd, the coast, the streets, the fields, the sky for my daughter ...always looking. In my mind, I know I won't find her here ...but my heart will never stop searching for my girl. Some people are graced enough to understand the gravity, the intensity, the brutal devastation of losing a child ...without having lost one themselves. They've understood, guarded and guided me to a safer place, and have helped me look away from the people, places and things that are cruel ...they've helped me dismiss the mean things said about me, about my family ...and even about Phoebe. And in God's graciousness, He has pruned away things that really weren't authentic or genuine in the first place.
I have climbed a million miles since that moment, and I have survived. Slowly, I find myself able to join the living.
God transforms all things, He creates anew all things ...if we let Him. If we truly desire to follow Him, we will suffer ...it's part of what ties us to Him and the promise of redemption. I've grown to understand it isn't punishment for who we are or what we've done or not done ...it is simply and beautifully a gift inviting us to live within Him in this life. And we can respond to that invitation in three ways. We can out and out reject it, do everything we can to avoid it ...by not choosing God. We can be miserable in it, unwilling to change, undermining and maligning others while we play the victim for time on end (which is tempting for many), or we can experience sorrow, a true sadness that recognizes the hurt and pain of suffering, while at the same time recognizes, accepts and even embraces the redemptive gift of suffering. Misery and sorrow are not the same, in fact, they are polar opposites. Misery loves company and angles to get as much as it can ...it spreads discontent and malice, often secretly, undetected. Sorrow coexists with joy, like the Crucifixion coexists only with the Resurrection, true sorrow exists with hope and trust ...which will lead to joy. Misery leads to hatred, while sorrow leads to love ...true abiding love.
I've been around misery, been misled by it ...I don't want it in my life anymore. I live with sorrow, and while I can recognize all the good things of sorrow, I am praying for it to be truer and more fruitful in my life ...so that others can see that suffering is a part of the Christian walk, and that perceived and lived according to God ...it can be a true witness to His beauty and generosity. And for sure, I can write this at a time when the wave of sadness has receded in this moment. I strive to live true sorrow most especially in my deepest moments of pain ...because I simply love God and trust Him with all things ...because He can make all things new.
Suffer patiently, suffer willingly, suffer with joy are three things exemplified by the life of St. Paul. He lived a life of constant suffering and struggle after his conversion ...and he bore all of it with patience, willingness and joy. I want to be like that. It will be a lifetime of striving and restarts. But ...God has surrounded me with women who live just that ...an amazing collection of personalities who, quite honestly, have been given far more than their share of real suffering that is not chosen or cultivated by themselves ....and they are beams of light ...they stream joy right back at me, and all those around them. Smiles and laughter are their hallmarks in the midst of chaos, confusion and piercing moments of pain. They have cried with me, laughed with me, danced with me, prayed with me ...and sighed those long expirations of exhaustion with me, They have loved me well through this ...more importantly they have loved my family, and they continue to love Phoebe ....even in all of our brokenness.
Phoebe was a teenage girl, one who scoffed at conformity. She was not one to just do something because she was told, nor was she one to appear publicly one way for adults and another outside her home. Phoebe was an extraordinary girl who brought life into the lives of many of her friends. She did some stupid things, and the more I learn, not any different or stupider than her friends who may appear a bit more straight laced. Phoebe didn't care for people who talked one way and lived another ...in short, she did not care much for 'boring' people. She saw life to be lived, not contrived. A bike ride or a walk was adventure. A bike became a horse galloping the plains of the midwest and a walk might find you cresting the summit of Everest. So clearly in my mind I can see my backyard strewn with chair pads, towels, chairs and neighborhood bodies during an afternoon of playing the Titanic. Out their, on that lawn, they fought for their lives in the cold Atlantic, while 8 year old Phoebe barked orders. Life with Phoebe was rich and adventurous, and as it is with many teenagers, it could also be frustrating and annoying. Her young life took some twists and turns that stayed locked inside. And sadly, her life ended in a moment, a tragic moment.
Left behind, are the rest of us, her family ...my cherubs and husband, walking together to rebuild ...because of each other. We are blessed.
Lots of people shared in her life, and everyone has their own story to tell ..some will be kind, hopefully most. Our story, her story, is ours. These posts tell my story, a bit of it anyway.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Monday, June 4, 2012
Walk to Remember
Every time I hear of another child dying, I cringe. A small part is that it sends me spiraling to the very beginning, the earth shattering moment of disbelief ...that moment I learned and saw Phoebe had died. But the bigger part is that my heart breaks for them ...the parents, the family all jumbled in the chaos of despair. I want to go to them, hold them, tell them they will be okay. I want to bring a big basket with me to fill with their sorrow, their pain, their suffering ....and to leave them feeling better, aware they will survive. Impossible ...no one can take such a thing away. But what we can do is reach out, those of us who are all too familiar with what it feels like to live deep loss. Through God's grace, early on we found The Compassionate Friends (TCF) which is a nonprofit, international organization that reaches out and offers self help groups for parents who've lost a child. Often, it is the first place, where we feel known and understood. It is often the only place that lets us be.
I can only speak of my own experience with TCF. It is a place to share ...a place to laugh and cry, to wish and hope. Without this group, I would not be where I am today. It is part of God's work in my life. Our credo is very powerful ...and every word is meant.
We need not walk alone. We are The Compassionate Friends. We reach out to each other with love, with understanding, and with hope. The children we mourn have died at all ages and from many different causes, but our love for them unites us. Your pain becomes my pain, just as your hope becomes my hope. We come together from all walks of life, from many different circumstances. We are a unique family because we represent many races, creeds, and relationships. We are young, and we are old. Some of us are far along in our grief, but others still feel a grief so fresh and so intensely painful that they feel helpless and see no hope. Some of us have found our faith to be a source of strength, while some of us are struggling to find answers. Some of us are angry, filled with guilt or in deep depression, while others radiate an inner peace. But whatever pain we bring to this gathering of The Compassionate Friends, it is pain we will share, just as we share with each other our love for the children who have died. We are all seeking and struggling to build a future for ourselves, but we are committed to building a future together. We reach out to each other in love to share the pain as well as the joy, share the anger as well as the peace, share the faith as well as the doubts, and help each other to grieve as well as to grow. We Need Not Walk Alone. We Are The Compassionate Friends.
Some of us find our way there soon after the death, others months, years even, later. Some never find us. We reach out and we offer the support, friendship, love and understanding that so often offers the only glimmer of hope that one day the sun will shine again.
TCF relies on contributions. We raise money so that no parent is left alone. We support libraries of books and materials that provide reading and information that helps many find their way. We sponsor events that recognize the lives lost, providing a place for families and friends to honor those they loved so well. We provide space to meet. We publish newsletters and other materials that offer a bridge and a lifeline for many.
I am forever grateful for the generosity and compassion we have found among our peers in this group.
Someday, someone close to you will lose a child. You will be witness to the devastation ...and TCF will be there.
On July 22nd, Stephen and I will proudly and lovingly carry a banner of names of all the children who've died in our chapter of TCF. The Walk to Remember takes place at 8AM in Costa Mesa, CA. There are three ways you can be part of this walk. First, pray for all the children and families to be represented. We all need prayers ...for the rest of our lives. Second, send me names of children you want remembered in our walk so they can be recognized and honored among all the others. Sadly, when children die, after a fairly short period of time they are forgotten. Babies who die so, so young, children, teens, adult children ...let's remember them all, together. Send me their names at carolynwalshpiw@gmail.com. And third, make a contribution to TCF and the Walk to Remember by going to http://www.tcfwalktoremember.org/. One dollar can make a difference in the life of a parent. No money goes to administrative costs. Eighty percent is given to the local chapter, twenty percent to national.
When you go to this site, on the left side click 'donate to a participant.' Write in my name, Carolyn Walsh, and it will go to the page I've set up in honor of Phoebe, that is one page from our chapter, South Shore Chapter Hingham, MA. None of this money comes to me ...it all goes directly to the chapter and national organization.
We expect no one to contribute, but if you are looking for a way to make a difference in someone's life, to help a grieving parent, this is an opportunity for that. Thank you in advance for your kindness.
I've hesitated offering this here in this blog. I've offered it through personal emails, and I am very grateful and touched by the generosity of so many who contributed. Thank you.
What prompts me now? The phone call yesterday that shared the news of yet another young, promising child whose death came far too early. I think of those parents, that family ....so I'm asking for them.
Please pray for this family, pray for all children in a moment of despair and confusion ...that God's angels swoop in and prevent them from such a permanent act. Just pray ....please.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I can only speak of my own experience with TCF. It is a place to share ...a place to laugh and cry, to wish and hope. Without this group, I would not be where I am today. It is part of God's work in my life. Our credo is very powerful ...and every word is meant.
We need not walk alone. We are The Compassionate Friends. We reach out to each other with love, with understanding, and with hope. The children we mourn have died at all ages and from many different causes, but our love for them unites us. Your pain becomes my pain, just as your hope becomes my hope. We come together from all walks of life, from many different circumstances. We are a unique family because we represent many races, creeds, and relationships. We are young, and we are old. Some of us are far along in our grief, but others still feel a grief so fresh and so intensely painful that they feel helpless and see no hope. Some of us have found our faith to be a source of strength, while some of us are struggling to find answers. Some of us are angry, filled with guilt or in deep depression, while others radiate an inner peace. But whatever pain we bring to this gathering of The Compassionate Friends, it is pain we will share, just as we share with each other our love for the children who have died. We are all seeking and struggling to build a future for ourselves, but we are committed to building a future together. We reach out to each other in love to share the pain as well as the joy, share the anger as well as the peace, share the faith as well as the doubts, and help each other to grieve as well as to grow. We Need Not Walk Alone. We Are The Compassionate Friends.
Some of us find our way there soon after the death, others months, years even, later. Some never find us. We reach out and we offer the support, friendship, love and understanding that so often offers the only glimmer of hope that one day the sun will shine again.
TCF relies on contributions. We raise money so that no parent is left alone. We support libraries of books and materials that provide reading and information that helps many find their way. We sponsor events that recognize the lives lost, providing a place for families and friends to honor those they loved so well. We provide space to meet. We publish newsletters and other materials that offer a bridge and a lifeline for many.
I am forever grateful for the generosity and compassion we have found among our peers in this group.
Someday, someone close to you will lose a child. You will be witness to the devastation ...and TCF will be there.
On July 22nd, Stephen and I will proudly and lovingly carry a banner of names of all the children who've died in our chapter of TCF. The Walk to Remember takes place at 8AM in Costa Mesa, CA. There are three ways you can be part of this walk. First, pray for all the children and families to be represented. We all need prayers ...for the rest of our lives. Second, send me names of children you want remembered in our walk so they can be recognized and honored among all the others. Sadly, when children die, after a fairly short period of time they are forgotten. Babies who die so, so young, children, teens, adult children ...let's remember them all, together. Send me their names at carolynwalshpiw@gmail.com. And third, make a contribution to TCF and the Walk to Remember by going to http://www.tcfwalktoremember.org/. One dollar can make a difference in the life of a parent. No money goes to administrative costs. Eighty percent is given to the local chapter, twenty percent to national.
When you go to this site, on the left side click 'donate to a participant.' Write in my name, Carolyn Walsh, and it will go to the page I've set up in honor of Phoebe, that is one page from our chapter, South Shore Chapter Hingham, MA. None of this money comes to me ...it all goes directly to the chapter and national organization.
We expect no one to contribute, but if you are looking for a way to make a difference in someone's life, to help a grieving parent, this is an opportunity for that. Thank you in advance for your kindness.
I've hesitated offering this here in this blog. I've offered it through personal emails, and I am very grateful and touched by the generosity of so many who contributed. Thank you.
What prompts me now? The phone call yesterday that shared the news of yet another young, promising child whose death came far too early. I think of those parents, that family ....so I'm asking for them.
Please pray for this family, pray for all children in a moment of despair and confusion ...that God's angels swoop in and prevent them from such a permanent act. Just pray ....please.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Balloons and Bickering
A quick story that shows the beauty of friendship and how it transcends and expands. Three of her friends joined us tonight, after all it's Phoebe's birthday. Nineteen balloons for anyone wanting to write a note, send it along ...we never really know! Owen writes three, Mary Claire the same, the girls all send notes of love and missing. Her three friends draw and write, one finishes first and steps outside to set it free, only to tie it to a chair. "I don't think Phoebe would approve," she says. "It's not good for the environment, what if it gets caught in a whale blow hole" I thought about that, and it's true ...but just for today I tell her. She goes back inside. The quiet one sits drawing and writing, the details I know Phoebe loves and appreciates. In walks the friend who spent years bickering and bantering with Phoebe ...a great love for each other that found a simple joy in the conflict. She writes quickly, looks outside and sees the tied balloon, and Mary Claire tells her who it belongs to. "Hey, why aren't you sending it off?" I tell her "she doesn't think Phoebe would approve." And as quickly as I say it, this dear friend's back is to me, MARCHING out the door. "Well that settles it, I'm definitely letting mine go! Phoebe would say that and its ridiculous." As if Phoebe herself had whispered in her friend's ear, admonishing her for so readily dismissing the environmental hazard!
That moment catches me ...friendship, real abiding, honest friendship transcends time. Phoebe is loved by this friend as deeply as ever ...and this friend knows Phoebe loves her still too ...and the bickering continues. God can do these things ...He makes love last, makes friendship that never dies ...never tires.
Three girls, missing the fourth ....changed for sure ...but unchanged too ...amazing! Phoebe is so well loved.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
That moment catches me ...friendship, real abiding, honest friendship transcends time. Phoebe is loved by this friend as deeply as ever ...and this friend knows Phoebe loves her still too ...and the bickering continues. God can do these things ...He makes love last, makes friendship that never dies ...never tires.
Three girls, missing the fourth ....changed for sure ...but unchanged too ...amazing! Phoebe is so well loved.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Happy Birthday!
Phoebe would have turned 19 today! And I would really like to celebrate with her .... The days approaching have been especially hard, made harder by the normal, and sometimes unusual, demands of regular life. I don't get a free pass to immerse in my missing ...and that's a blessing in lots and lots of ways. My friend reminds me that Phoebe is here with me, shoulder to shoulder like she had been for so long. And so I tell her the things I would if she were here in the flesh with me, all the while trusting she hears me.
I miss this great, robust, adventurous daughter. I miss her spunk, her song, her smile ....her way. My next oldest daughter is meastured today, 5' 7 1/2". We giggle. At least two inches on me, at least four on Phoebe ...she would have grumbled, always wanting to be tall. Phoebe was sort of little, but you didn't think of her that way ... I'm hoping she laughs with us now.
Say a prayer for her today if you would. It's a special day ....Feast of the Ascension. I count my blessings that once again all things that fall this way point towards God. That her birthday should be on this day brings me a lot of comfort ...and hope. Mass offered for her tonight, gathered with friends and family, in the presence of the Truest Presence of all.
Pizza, cake and balloons ...I can imagine her kicking each one as it makes its way to her. It is these things that keep us grounded, keep us hopeful ...keep our hearts open to comfort and the great promise of seeing her again.
God is good and gracious and kind ...even in the hard things, even in the suffering and loss ...even in the challenge of each day ...He is there.
Happy birthday sweet girl ... Love, Mom
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I miss this great, robust, adventurous daughter. I miss her spunk, her song, her smile ....her way. My next oldest daughter is meastured today, 5' 7 1/2". We giggle. At least two inches on me, at least four on Phoebe ...she would have grumbled, always wanting to be tall. Phoebe was sort of little, but you didn't think of her that way ... I'm hoping she laughs with us now.
Say a prayer for her today if you would. It's a special day ....Feast of the Ascension. I count my blessings that once again all things that fall this way point towards God. That her birthday should be on this day brings me a lot of comfort ...and hope. Mass offered for her tonight, gathered with friends and family, in the presence of the Truest Presence of all.
Pizza, cake and balloons ...I can imagine her kicking each one as it makes its way to her. It is these things that keep us grounded, keep us hopeful ...keep our hearts open to comfort and the great promise of seeing her again.
God is good and gracious and kind ...even in the hard things, even in the suffering and loss ...even in the challenge of each day ...He is there.
Happy birthday sweet girl ... Love, Mom
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Nineteen Months
Nineteen Months ...where did they go?
One of my 'new' friends, shared this song with me ...knowing me well enough to know how much I lean on the Blessed Mother. And it makes me think of how she is with us, in this world, around the hearts of the hurting.
It also makes me think that this must be how Phoebe saw her too ...and now really does. Enjoy.
And pray, please, today for the families, the moms and dads ...losing a child on this day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0a4dRI1JMM
Love you Pheebs ...
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
One of my 'new' friends, shared this song with me ...knowing me well enough to know how much I lean on the Blessed Mother. And it makes me think of how she is with us, in this world, around the hearts of the hurting.
It also makes me think that this must be how Phoebe saw her too ...and now really does. Enjoy.
And pray, please, today for the families, the moms and dads ...losing a child on this day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0a4dRI1JMM
Love you Pheebs ...
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen
Friday, March 30, 2012
Final choices
I said I would write about suicide, teen suicide. In the days that followed, a child, in the next town, ended his own life. He was 15. I didn't know him or his family. I know others who do, so I learned of his death early on. I passed the church several times the day of his funeral since it was on my route to and fro. When I called a friend I asked her if she'd heard. "Which one?" she asked me, as she knew of another. Clearly, I have a sensitivity to teen suicide. It's how my own daughter died. There are times when we see children struggling with depression or other issues, and sometimes, though rarely, someone isn't surprised that the child attempted or completed suicide. But usually, that's not the case.
More and more kids are 'opting' out. They choose a permanent solution to a temporary problem. And more, they see things as problems that often are simply part of the process of growing up and claiming their own lives. They have no idea what they're doing, the permanence of their choice. Generally, the act is so impulsive, they have no sense of their action until its too late.
There is a darkness, a sinister aspect to suicide ...as there should be. It should be something that is so abhorrent, so despicably sinful, with the fear of eternal damnation ...so that it impresses over and over the wrongness of it. It should never be romanticized, the victims should never be viewed as heroes, as courageous, right. That's a concern we should have, us grownups, how our kids view this act. It's an important discussion.
Teen suicide is different than adult suicide ...very different. Brains aren't developed and the risk of impulsive behavior is at its height during these tumultuous years. And sadly, some kids are at higher risk than others ...though that's not often able to be determined. They're not at greater risk because they aren't as good or as smart as other kids. They're not at risk because they have bad parents. They're simply at risk because their brains are particular, often times experiencing decreased oxygen, and decreased activity in the part of the brain that makes quick decisions at a time when they need it to be high functioning. When a child, at risk, experiences an overwhelming surge of stress, hopefully we've taught them to navigate through, to understand it will pass. But the brain doesn't always cooperate, and we find ourselves devastated by an impulse that led to a permanent loss ...an end.
Adult suicide, or suicide ideation can come from depression or anxiety that expresses itself in many forms, drug or alcohol abuse, risky behavior, etc... There's lots of reasons, none of them good enough to rationalize suicide ...ever.
Searching for the reasons why a child would kill themselves you can find a thousand reasons, and you can find none. Sometimes the reasons seem so outrageous to us, like not getting the car for the night, or getting a low grade, or a break up. As adults we know the tides of life. We know things change, difficult stress passes, and good things come again. But the teenage brain doesn't process it the same way we do. In fact, many young brains don't process at all, they just hit a wall. And further, things like concussions (of which Phoebe had three major) and trauma, exacerbate the tender minds of some of our kids.
One of the biggest reasons suicide becomes an option for our kids is the world we live in. Our cookie cutter culture has left no room for the complexities and beauty of the human personality. God doesn't 'manufacture' us from an assembly line. He creates and calls each of us by name ...our very own name. There was once more room for people to be who they really are. Sadly, society now has paths and boxes our kids are expected to follow, leading to what has been defined as success. And no matter what we say to the contrary, most parents fall into the same expectations. Our children have become our resumes.
If you look at the kids who die by suicide, they are often very bright, independent, energetic and well loved. I can't tell you the specifics of what made Phoebe choose to die ...because I don't know them. The brain processes quickly and teenagers have a window as small as five minutes. The further out we are, the less we know actually. Even her closest friends remain stumped, and convinced she had no idea what she was doing. And I agree. I think most parents in my shoes see the same way ...there is no reason.
One of her friends shared recently how people expressed to her that there had to be signs, we just didn't see them. And I'm sure there are plenty around us who say the same, but the truth is ...there weren't. Parents like me aren't looking to be let off the hook. We'll blame ourselves for the rest of our lives, and struggle to live with that every day. No one needs to set us straight, give us a wake up call ...we're already pretty hard on ourselves, so I have no problem saying "yes, if it wasn't for me she wouldn't have died." But to stay there, robs others of a chance to deter another suicide. I'm sorry to tell you, every parent is at risk.
We need new eyes, fresh eyes. We need to look at the culture of lies our kids are being raised in, we need to look at ourselves and what we buy into, we need to see if what we say is what we live. We need to change this culture so that our children may not only live, but that they might thrive. That's our responsibility and obligation to our children and to God. God entrusted these kids to us, they're His for the keeping, and how are we preparing them to be delivered back to Him. Question if that is what we're truly preparing our kids for, or are we posing as if we are by taking all the right 'public' steps, but at our core we're edging and encouraging our kids to beat out the person next to them?
Mistakes, failure, loss ...coming to terms with the reality that none of us have every gift and every talent ...are all part of life, real life. How many of us parents look at a term paper our kids have done poorly on and say ..."hey, so what can you learn here?" How are we teaching or modeling for them the process of working things through? I ask myself that question every day ...how did I model thinking things through? How do I manage my own stress? How do I reflect trusting in God for all things? How do I reflect a holy confidence? I'm not suggesting we don't encourage and expect our kids to use the gifts and talents God gave them to do their best. I'm suggesting not all kids or people are the same. I know young adults who didn't graduate at the top of their class, were never selected for athletic awards or recognition and yet they are among the finest human beings I have ever met. They are courteous and kind. They greet you and look you in the eye. They genuinely offer themselves without expecting any recognition. They are the same person in public as they are in private. I want my kids to be like that. I've met enough kids who top the lists and make the mark and would give me the time of day only if others were looking and they would get some type of credit or recognition. In fact, I know plenty of adults like that too, and sadly some them are in charge of guiding our children in various venues. That leads to a lot of confusion for plenty of our kids.
We are lacking integrity, honesty and God in our culture. And every single one of us needs to ask ourselves what role we play in the demise of all three. We can't be part-timers with any of them. We can't pose when people are looking and say and do the 'right' things, meanwhile in secret tear down, calculate and manipulate those around us to make ourselves look good, pure, holy even. Kids see this, they see the hypocrisy all around them. And some, don't know enough that they can live away from that, without that.
I've read plenty about teen suicide and I know enough to understand most people read about it so they can find reasons why it won't happen to their child ...why they are protected. I know, I was one of those people who believed suicide was so remote, so unlikely ...because I had a pulse on my kids. And guess what ...I did and I do. But it didn't prevent it from happening to my Phoebe. I'm sure you could find people who would tell you how checked out we were, how we didn't see the signs, how they would have known if they were the parents. That's part of what we live with, knowing that the 'all knowing' would have been so much better at parenting our daughter. Any parent who loses a child to suicide deals with this. It's just part of the legacy of suicide. People who think like that will never be part of the change, never be part of making this world a more livable, lovable place for our kids.
Teenage suicide is on the rise. Listen to the words of songs ...and hear the sorrow and angst. These are hard times for our children. They're caught between having to listen to grown-ups who say everything and anything is okay ...no moral compass needed, and listening to expectations of perfect behavior lacking any human weakness. We need to be honest with our kids. We don't need to tell them what we did when we were young and stupid was really great and has no lasting effects ...which is a lie. And we don't need to tell them we never did anything wrong and therefore never sinned or made mistakes ...another lie. We need to tell them the costs of our own sin and the great mercy and grace of God ...and offer them a better way that isn't about us, about our resume, about SAT scores ...but about eternity.
Learn from me. I don't have a perfect past. I didn't love and serve God the way I was created to for a long time. It wasn't until I was a parent that I woke up and realized how far I had strayed ...with plenty of bad choices behind me. And I still struggle and fail, I am still imperfect. How I wished I had been far more open about the 'details' of that with Phoebe so she would know that perfection is an ideal, so that she would know we can fail, and sin and disappoint and find redemption through God. How I wish I had knelt less and hugged more, knowing that being embraced is how they know we love them. And how I wished I had listened more, really listened with my heart, and stayed quiet and humble, rather than making sure she said her night prayers. Again, I'm not dismissing or minimizing the importance of kneeling or night prayers ...but they lose authenticity when real, genuine, active love is missing. If I stay praying my rosary when my husband walks through the door after a long night at work, and I don't pause to welcome him home, greet him and tend to his homecoming, what good are the prayers I utter if I cannot care for one of God's finest creations. In doing so, I am more concerned about my own self than I am of others ...and God asks me to be selfless ...at all times.
We need to be real and genuine with our kids, not afraid of hearing the mistakes they've made, or the thoughts that challenge what we've taught them. Many kids have shared with me since Phoebe died that no one really listens to them ...that adults just want to hear that everything is okay. Many, many kids. Learn from me, from my loss. Let your children be the people God created them to be ...not the person you want to create them to be. And be real and genuine ...don't hide your flaws, work on them, be honest. When we hide them they grow and become our prominent qualities. Teach our children to name their flaws, own them and work on them so they might one day overcome them.
I don't want another parent to go through this, to have to say goodbye to a beloved child. No parent expects this. And it is a very difficult burden that will be with me for the rest of my life. If I can prevent one child from making such a terrible choice, and one parent from the agony of this loss, I would consider that an enormous grace.
There will never be enough words or the right words to put down here. I will likely never be satisfied with what I write here. And I will learn more and more as time goes by. But I hope we can work to make this world a less hostile environment for our children. I hope we can create a world and environment where each person takes their rightful place to know, love and serve God. I hope we can create a world with far less confusion and chaos. I hope we can create a world where Phoebe wouldn't have died if she'd had the chance to live in it.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
More and more kids are 'opting' out. They choose a permanent solution to a temporary problem. And more, they see things as problems that often are simply part of the process of growing up and claiming their own lives. They have no idea what they're doing, the permanence of their choice. Generally, the act is so impulsive, they have no sense of their action until its too late.
There is a darkness, a sinister aspect to suicide ...as there should be. It should be something that is so abhorrent, so despicably sinful, with the fear of eternal damnation ...so that it impresses over and over the wrongness of it. It should never be romanticized, the victims should never be viewed as heroes, as courageous, right. That's a concern we should have, us grownups, how our kids view this act. It's an important discussion.
Teen suicide is different than adult suicide ...very different. Brains aren't developed and the risk of impulsive behavior is at its height during these tumultuous years. And sadly, some kids are at higher risk than others ...though that's not often able to be determined. They're not at greater risk because they aren't as good or as smart as other kids. They're not at risk because they have bad parents. They're simply at risk because their brains are particular, often times experiencing decreased oxygen, and decreased activity in the part of the brain that makes quick decisions at a time when they need it to be high functioning. When a child, at risk, experiences an overwhelming surge of stress, hopefully we've taught them to navigate through, to understand it will pass. But the brain doesn't always cooperate, and we find ourselves devastated by an impulse that led to a permanent loss ...an end.
Adult suicide, or suicide ideation can come from depression or anxiety that expresses itself in many forms, drug or alcohol abuse, risky behavior, etc... There's lots of reasons, none of them good enough to rationalize suicide ...ever.
Searching for the reasons why a child would kill themselves you can find a thousand reasons, and you can find none. Sometimes the reasons seem so outrageous to us, like not getting the car for the night, or getting a low grade, or a break up. As adults we know the tides of life. We know things change, difficult stress passes, and good things come again. But the teenage brain doesn't process it the same way we do. In fact, many young brains don't process at all, they just hit a wall. And further, things like concussions (of which Phoebe had three major) and trauma, exacerbate the tender minds of some of our kids.
One of the biggest reasons suicide becomes an option for our kids is the world we live in. Our cookie cutter culture has left no room for the complexities and beauty of the human personality. God doesn't 'manufacture' us from an assembly line. He creates and calls each of us by name ...our very own name. There was once more room for people to be who they really are. Sadly, society now has paths and boxes our kids are expected to follow, leading to what has been defined as success. And no matter what we say to the contrary, most parents fall into the same expectations. Our children have become our resumes.
If you look at the kids who die by suicide, they are often very bright, independent, energetic and well loved. I can't tell you the specifics of what made Phoebe choose to die ...because I don't know them. The brain processes quickly and teenagers have a window as small as five minutes. The further out we are, the less we know actually. Even her closest friends remain stumped, and convinced she had no idea what she was doing. And I agree. I think most parents in my shoes see the same way ...there is no reason.
One of her friends shared recently how people expressed to her that there had to be signs, we just didn't see them. And I'm sure there are plenty around us who say the same, but the truth is ...there weren't. Parents like me aren't looking to be let off the hook. We'll blame ourselves for the rest of our lives, and struggle to live with that every day. No one needs to set us straight, give us a wake up call ...we're already pretty hard on ourselves, so I have no problem saying "yes, if it wasn't for me she wouldn't have died." But to stay there, robs others of a chance to deter another suicide. I'm sorry to tell you, every parent is at risk.
We need new eyes, fresh eyes. We need to look at the culture of lies our kids are being raised in, we need to look at ourselves and what we buy into, we need to see if what we say is what we live. We need to change this culture so that our children may not only live, but that they might thrive. That's our responsibility and obligation to our children and to God. God entrusted these kids to us, they're His for the keeping, and how are we preparing them to be delivered back to Him. Question if that is what we're truly preparing our kids for, or are we posing as if we are by taking all the right 'public' steps, but at our core we're edging and encouraging our kids to beat out the person next to them?
Mistakes, failure, loss ...coming to terms with the reality that none of us have every gift and every talent ...are all part of life, real life. How many of us parents look at a term paper our kids have done poorly on and say ..."hey, so what can you learn here?" How are we teaching or modeling for them the process of working things through? I ask myself that question every day ...how did I model thinking things through? How do I manage my own stress? How do I reflect trusting in God for all things? How do I reflect a holy confidence? I'm not suggesting we don't encourage and expect our kids to use the gifts and talents God gave them to do their best. I'm suggesting not all kids or people are the same. I know young adults who didn't graduate at the top of their class, were never selected for athletic awards or recognition and yet they are among the finest human beings I have ever met. They are courteous and kind. They greet you and look you in the eye. They genuinely offer themselves without expecting any recognition. They are the same person in public as they are in private. I want my kids to be like that. I've met enough kids who top the lists and make the mark and would give me the time of day only if others were looking and they would get some type of credit or recognition. In fact, I know plenty of adults like that too, and sadly some them are in charge of guiding our children in various venues. That leads to a lot of confusion for plenty of our kids.
We are lacking integrity, honesty and God in our culture. And every single one of us needs to ask ourselves what role we play in the demise of all three. We can't be part-timers with any of them. We can't pose when people are looking and say and do the 'right' things, meanwhile in secret tear down, calculate and manipulate those around us to make ourselves look good, pure, holy even. Kids see this, they see the hypocrisy all around them. And some, don't know enough that they can live away from that, without that.
I've read plenty about teen suicide and I know enough to understand most people read about it so they can find reasons why it won't happen to their child ...why they are protected. I know, I was one of those people who believed suicide was so remote, so unlikely ...because I had a pulse on my kids. And guess what ...I did and I do. But it didn't prevent it from happening to my Phoebe. I'm sure you could find people who would tell you how checked out we were, how we didn't see the signs, how they would have known if they were the parents. That's part of what we live with, knowing that the 'all knowing' would have been so much better at parenting our daughter. Any parent who loses a child to suicide deals with this. It's just part of the legacy of suicide. People who think like that will never be part of the change, never be part of making this world a more livable, lovable place for our kids.
Teenage suicide is on the rise. Listen to the words of songs ...and hear the sorrow and angst. These are hard times for our children. They're caught between having to listen to grown-ups who say everything and anything is okay ...no moral compass needed, and listening to expectations of perfect behavior lacking any human weakness. We need to be honest with our kids. We don't need to tell them what we did when we were young and stupid was really great and has no lasting effects ...which is a lie. And we don't need to tell them we never did anything wrong and therefore never sinned or made mistakes ...another lie. We need to tell them the costs of our own sin and the great mercy and grace of God ...and offer them a better way that isn't about us, about our resume, about SAT scores ...but about eternity.
Learn from me. I don't have a perfect past. I didn't love and serve God the way I was created to for a long time. It wasn't until I was a parent that I woke up and realized how far I had strayed ...with plenty of bad choices behind me. And I still struggle and fail, I am still imperfect. How I wished I had been far more open about the 'details' of that with Phoebe so she would know that perfection is an ideal, so that she would know we can fail, and sin and disappoint and find redemption through God. How I wish I had knelt less and hugged more, knowing that being embraced is how they know we love them. And how I wished I had listened more, really listened with my heart, and stayed quiet and humble, rather than making sure she said her night prayers. Again, I'm not dismissing or minimizing the importance of kneeling or night prayers ...but they lose authenticity when real, genuine, active love is missing. If I stay praying my rosary when my husband walks through the door after a long night at work, and I don't pause to welcome him home, greet him and tend to his homecoming, what good are the prayers I utter if I cannot care for one of God's finest creations. In doing so, I am more concerned about my own self than I am of others ...and God asks me to be selfless ...at all times.
We need to be real and genuine with our kids, not afraid of hearing the mistakes they've made, or the thoughts that challenge what we've taught them. Many kids have shared with me since Phoebe died that no one really listens to them ...that adults just want to hear that everything is okay. Many, many kids. Learn from me, from my loss. Let your children be the people God created them to be ...not the person you want to create them to be. And be real and genuine ...don't hide your flaws, work on them, be honest. When we hide them they grow and become our prominent qualities. Teach our children to name their flaws, own them and work on them so they might one day overcome them.
I don't want another parent to go through this, to have to say goodbye to a beloved child. No parent expects this. And it is a very difficult burden that will be with me for the rest of my life. If I can prevent one child from making such a terrible choice, and one parent from the agony of this loss, I would consider that an enormous grace.
There will never be enough words or the right words to put down here. I will likely never be satisfied with what I write here. And I will learn more and more as time goes by. But I hope we can work to make this world a less hostile environment for our children. I hope we can create a world and environment where each person takes their rightful place to know, love and serve God. I hope we can create a world with far less confusion and chaos. I hope we can create a world where Phoebe wouldn't have died if she'd had the chance to live in it.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Sweet Departures
A sweet woman, a truly humble soul is departing this world. She's surrounded by a bounty of relatives ...daughters, her son, sons and daughters in law, grandchildren, great grandchildren. She is well, well loved.
She's been part of my life and my kids for over a decade. She has lived her faith by example, not a word of judgement towards others, no attention drawn to herself and no complaint of the challenges her life has had ...she's been simple and loving and kind. And she has left a treasure of others who live like her ...and we have been blessed to be part of this life. Please pray for her and for her family ...and join her children in saying this simple prayer.
At the cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful mother weeping,
close to Jesus at the last,
Through her soul, of joy bereavèd,
bowed with anguish, deeply grievèd,
now at length the sword hath passed.
O, that blessed one, grief-laden,
blessed Mother, blessed Maiden,
Mother of the all-holy One;
O that silent, ceaseless mourning,
O those dim eyes, never turning
from that wondrous, suffering Son.
Who, on Christ's dear mother gazing,
in her trouble so amazing,
born of woman, would not weep?
Who, on Christ's dear Mother thinking,
such a cup of sorrow drinking,
would not share her sorrows deep?
For his people's sins, in anguish,
there she saw the victim languish,
bleed in torments, bleed and die.
Saw the Lord's anointed taken,
saw her Child in death forrsaken,
heard his last expiring cry.
In the passion of my Maker,
be my sinful soul partaker,
may I bear with her my part;
of his passion bear the token,
in a spirit bowed and broken
bear his death within my heart.
May his wounds both wound and heal me,
he enkindle, cleanse, and heal me,
be his cross my hope and stay.
May he, when the mountains quiver,
from that flame which burns for ever
shield me on the judgment day.
Jesus, may thy cross defend me,
and thy saving death befriend me,
cherished by thy deathless grace:
when to dust my dust returneth,
grant a soul that to thee yearneth
in thy paradise a place.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
She's been part of my life and my kids for over a decade. She has lived her faith by example, not a word of judgement towards others, no attention drawn to herself and no complaint of the challenges her life has had ...she's been simple and loving and kind. And she has left a treasure of others who live like her ...and we have been blessed to be part of this life. Please pray for her and for her family ...and join her children in saying this simple prayer.
At the cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful mother weeping,
close to Jesus at the last,
Through her soul, of joy bereavèd,
bowed with anguish, deeply grievèd,
now at length the sword hath passed.
O, that blessed one, grief-laden,
blessed Mother, blessed Maiden,
Mother of the all-holy One;
O that silent, ceaseless mourning,
O those dim eyes, never turning
from that wondrous, suffering Son.
Who, on Christ's dear mother gazing,
in her trouble so amazing,
born of woman, would not weep?
Who, on Christ's dear Mother thinking,
such a cup of sorrow drinking,
would not share her sorrows deep?
For his people's sins, in anguish,
there she saw the victim languish,
bleed in torments, bleed and die.
Saw the Lord's anointed taken,
saw her Child in death forrsaken,
heard his last expiring cry.
In the passion of my Maker,
be my sinful soul partaker,
may I bear with her my part;
of his passion bear the token,
in a spirit bowed and broken
bear his death within my heart.
May his wounds both wound and heal me,
he enkindle, cleanse, and heal me,
be his cross my hope and stay.
May he, when the mountains quiver,
from that flame which burns for ever
shield me on the judgment day.
Jesus, may thy cross defend me,
and thy saving death befriend me,
cherished by thy deathless grace:
when to dust my dust returneth,
grant a soul that to thee yearneth
in thy paradise a place.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Seventeen Months
Seventeen months ago today Phoebe died. It seems like two hours ago, and yet life has gone on. I still have people who check on me every time the ninth of the month rolls around. That number will always hold me still, and I'm grateful for the 'spotters' who recognize the significance of that number.
I've been struggling to write my final entries here, to wrap up this body of work, this expose so to speak of my travels along the path of grieving for Phoebe. I start and then delete ...find new words, then trash them.
I want to share my thoughts on two things, and I will when I find words that convey what I think they should, provide some sort of compass for those who stumble upon a similar path.
First, I want to write about suicide, specifically teenage suicide. The end result of any suicide is the same ...death. Any suicide is the self infliction of ending one's life ...no matter the age. But the reality is, that suicide of a teenager, a child, is in fact different from that of an adult. I hope to find the right words that won't put people on edge worrying about their own children, but instead expose the reality of the teenage brain that transcends parenting, expectations, opportunity, intelligence, faith. Pray for me to be guided by those words. It's a tricky topic under any circumstance, but one that needs to be discussed in a very real way. If you're interested take a look at the link for "Losing Lambert" at http://www.wqed.org/ondemand/onq.php . It explains a bit about why teen suicide happens ...even when there are no signs.
And the second is an overview of life from the beginning, and how we make it through. We all have expectations, anticipations ...but this experience can't be pinned down. While everyone's walk is particular to them and their child ...even spouses, there are some common phases and changes shared by anyone who travels along this road. I hope that in writing about it, maybe you can have more understanding of those you encounter who are traveling along this path.
For today though, I will tell you it is still very, very hard. For sure it is different, life has continued, good things happen, opportunities to grow as a mother are there for me. I trust God still in every way, but I have grown more silent with Him. I try more to just be with Him as the words have run dry. I am very tired, weak in lots and lots of ways, which is not typical for me. Sometimes for a fleeting moment I believe Phoebe is still here and I turn to say her name, show her a page or dial her number. I've asked my husband several times on a weekend night if he's heard from Phoebe yet. When I catch myself and look at him, his eyes are sad and he just shakes his head and tells me she's okay. Sometimes I think to ask her to give her siblings a ride here or there. Sometimes I see her shoes or a sweatshirt lying in the middle of the floor and in exasperation go to yell her name, only to remember it was one of her sisters who wears them now. I hear of other teenagers and I break for those parents, cringe at the sheer terror and pain they must endure. And I know the hardship to come for them as they struggle to live and people reject them...which sadly some do. We've been blessed in many, many ways. We have people in our lives, that without them, we would not have made it ...we both know this, and we've told them so. But no amount of words could measure the gratitude we have ...and they've expected nothing in return ...they have freely given. In the beginning too, countless people gave their love to us and cared for us so generously ....it still boggles me to remember what I can of all that outpouring and kindness. And still the prayers offered for Phoebe, for us ...that go unseen, I know keep us going, and keep us trusting ...and living.
Looking back, I see so many subtle ways God prepared me for this time. He's cared for me all along and I trust He will continue to. But life is a day to day struggle, great moments for sure dominate our life, but I know I will never really rest until my own day comes. It's not natural for a parent to bury a child, it throws our world out of orbit, and the appropriate whirl around the sun will never be quite right.
My prayer life is different than it once was, whereas before I think I focused so much on praying the right way, now I just crumble with God and know how fully I am nothing without Him, that I can be nothing, do nothing that will last ...without Him ...without His abundant grace and mercy. I think through losing Phoebe I've finally begun to understand His power ...and I believe the power of His giving is far greater than the power of His taking. I'm trusting that ...one day, the joy of seeing Him and seeing Phoebe will be far more than I can imagine. For now, I can just long for that.
I miss Phoebe terribly. We celebrated our youngest's birthday this week. Our second birthday season without Phoebe is underway ...hard to believe. How can a personality so rich and robust ...just end? How can she not be here? It still catches me off guard ....
March 9th, seventeen months ...still missing.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I've been struggling to write my final entries here, to wrap up this body of work, this expose so to speak of my travels along the path of grieving for Phoebe. I start and then delete ...find new words, then trash them.
I want to share my thoughts on two things, and I will when I find words that convey what I think they should, provide some sort of compass for those who stumble upon a similar path.
First, I want to write about suicide, specifically teenage suicide. The end result of any suicide is the same ...death. Any suicide is the self infliction of ending one's life ...no matter the age. But the reality is, that suicide of a teenager, a child, is in fact different from that of an adult. I hope to find the right words that won't put people on edge worrying about their own children, but instead expose the reality of the teenage brain that transcends parenting, expectations, opportunity, intelligence, faith. Pray for me to be guided by those words. It's a tricky topic under any circumstance, but one that needs to be discussed in a very real way. If you're interested take a look at the link for "Losing Lambert" at http://www.wqed.org/ondemand/onq.php . It explains a bit about why teen suicide happens ...even when there are no signs.
And the second is an overview of life from the beginning, and how we make it through. We all have expectations, anticipations ...but this experience can't be pinned down. While everyone's walk is particular to them and their child ...even spouses, there are some common phases and changes shared by anyone who travels along this road. I hope that in writing about it, maybe you can have more understanding of those you encounter who are traveling along this path.
For today though, I will tell you it is still very, very hard. For sure it is different, life has continued, good things happen, opportunities to grow as a mother are there for me. I trust God still in every way, but I have grown more silent with Him. I try more to just be with Him as the words have run dry. I am very tired, weak in lots and lots of ways, which is not typical for me. Sometimes for a fleeting moment I believe Phoebe is still here and I turn to say her name, show her a page or dial her number. I've asked my husband several times on a weekend night if he's heard from Phoebe yet. When I catch myself and look at him, his eyes are sad and he just shakes his head and tells me she's okay. Sometimes I think to ask her to give her siblings a ride here or there. Sometimes I see her shoes or a sweatshirt lying in the middle of the floor and in exasperation go to yell her name, only to remember it was one of her sisters who wears them now. I hear of other teenagers and I break for those parents, cringe at the sheer terror and pain they must endure. And I know the hardship to come for them as they struggle to live and people reject them...which sadly some do. We've been blessed in many, many ways. We have people in our lives, that without them, we would not have made it ...we both know this, and we've told them so. But no amount of words could measure the gratitude we have ...and they've expected nothing in return ...they have freely given. In the beginning too, countless people gave their love to us and cared for us so generously ....it still boggles me to remember what I can of all that outpouring and kindness. And still the prayers offered for Phoebe, for us ...that go unseen, I know keep us going, and keep us trusting ...and living.
Looking back, I see so many subtle ways God prepared me for this time. He's cared for me all along and I trust He will continue to. But life is a day to day struggle, great moments for sure dominate our life, but I know I will never really rest until my own day comes. It's not natural for a parent to bury a child, it throws our world out of orbit, and the appropriate whirl around the sun will never be quite right.
My prayer life is different than it once was, whereas before I think I focused so much on praying the right way, now I just crumble with God and know how fully I am nothing without Him, that I can be nothing, do nothing that will last ...without Him ...without His abundant grace and mercy. I think through losing Phoebe I've finally begun to understand His power ...and I believe the power of His giving is far greater than the power of His taking. I'm trusting that ...one day, the joy of seeing Him and seeing Phoebe will be far more than I can imagine. For now, I can just long for that.
I miss Phoebe terribly. We celebrated our youngest's birthday this week. Our second birthday season without Phoebe is underway ...hard to believe. How can a personality so rich and robust ...just end? How can she not be here? It still catches me off guard ....
March 9th, seventeen months ...still missing.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Writing
Survival Tips
The act of writing helps me process and understand little bits and pieces of what's happened and how to move along, hobbling, but moving. I have various little books where I write little notes to Phoebe. There is one big book started just after she died by a good friend and I'll stuff things in there too. The more creative aspects of my life were really the parts of me that Phoebe enjoyed the most. Writing is one of those areas and she enjoyed reading what I wrote, offering suggestions and comments that pushed me a little further.
Writing takes my racing mind and paces it, organizes the many streams of thoughts zigging and zagging constantly. I can extract an idea or a thought that replays and put it in black and white, let it stare back at me and come to understand myself, or something else a little bit better. Processing grief for a child is hard, hard work .."the hardest work you'll ever do," I'm told. Writing lets it out a bit, and that's one reason why writing this blog has been a good experience for me ...I see a reflection and begin to understand or see some progress made here and there ...some hope that life will go on ...that life is indeed going on.
Writing untangles my heart, my twisted, broken heart. Like massage, it nurtures the soreness and gives way to soothing ...'it will be okay." Sometimes, I can discuss my emotions far better in writing than in words. I think the keys under my fingers or the pen in hand guide me and provide the instrument, the channel that releases and unlocks things that need to come out ...need to be revealed to me.
Writing publicly, in a blog, was a leap for me. I have a few sites I visit, but honestly, I have a very short attention span on the computer, so I am in and out pretty quickly. I'd much rather read a book than read a computer screen, no matter how pretty. Blogs are a great vehicle to share wonderful ideas, faith, hobbies ...you name it. You take a risk too, when you write a blog, that you'll be rejected, criticized, ridiculed or misunderstood ...judged. That's part of writing one though, you put yourself out there knowing the risks involved. You never know if it gets read the way you intend, or if what you write is taken out of context, taken personally even. You understand you have no control over such things.
My intention of writing here has been to chronicle my walk through these difficult months and to share the experience of striving to make sense and hang on to my faith, for two reasons. One, I have people who care about me, love me, and were devastated for me. It became a way to share with them the walk I was on. Lots of these women deeply loved Phoebe too, they knew how hurting they were and are, and this blog became a vehicle for them to stay in touch, keep tabs, and cry a little bit with me here and there without having to leave their own crazy busy lives. If a post seemed particularly painful, I'd get a few phone calls ...touching base, or a note. "Hey, you ok?" I know friends appreciated being able to have a sense of where I was and how I was ...they didn't have to wonder and worry so much. I have friends who will never read this blog ...they simply can't go there. Friends who were best friends with me when we were seventeen ,,,the first friends to lay eyes on Phoebe, hold her when she was born. It took one twenty four hours to tell herself and her husband that Phoebe was dead. She couldn't say the words. The other called me when I stood next to Phoebe, singing to her, stroking her hair, saying goodbye, touching her one last time. When I didn't answer, she texted me a simple question ..."is it true?" And we're still asking "is it true?" We've found other ways ...they know I write, glad I do, they just won't go down there with me ...they stand guard instead, take me through mountain trails with mountain lions, proving to me that I will make it, laughing with me ...remembering. I write for them too ...even though they don't read these words.
Another important reason I decided to write this blog is to offer some hope, even a sliver. My life ended when Phoebe died. I have a different life now, a life without her. I have a good life, a rich, blessed life, but its not the same one I had before she died. Just like that, the axe came down and split my life into before Phoebe died and after Phoebe died. Other parents know what this is like, it's happened to them, after Phoebe died. I hope this blog can be a stepping stone, a road map for some ...to see what they might expect, to see that life continues, that God is always present, even in the darkest moments. I'm told it has helped some, and I'm glad for that. I don't want anyone to be or feel alone. I want everyone to know they can survive ...and that yes, their old life is gone, but they have a new one they just need to learn to fit into.
Maybe the most important reason why I write, why I've done this blog ...is for her, my Phoebe. It's a love story, really. A story about a mother and a girl who shared a dynamic, energetic, intense time on earth together. And it's a story of loss ...and finding, finding her again in the most peculiar places. But always finding her ...not feeling her, but finding her. Writing has brought her smile back to me ...her bright, beautiful smile that radiated from the tips of her toes ...her smile that spoke of love and the purest joy. I see it so clearly now, the one she had when she found comfort and knew she was so well loved. I know that's the smile she has now ...always. Putting words down has helped me find that smile again ...and find my own a little more too.
Sometimes when I write, I imagine her hands pressed hard on the back of my chair, bent forward, head close to mine. Sometimes I can feel her breath on my neck, sense what she might say, a line, a word she would like or tell me to ditch. I can feel her push her hands hard off the back of my chair ...every movement had power for her. Maybe its sitting in this chair, the one my own mother rocked me and all of her babies in ...that ties me to Phoebe, the familiar posture, the physical closeness ...those moments of shared space and time ...the words appearing on the screen ...that keeps me writing.
Not everyone writes, not everyone needs to or wants to ...for me it's been good, building a bridge to understanding and acceptance. It's helped me climb from the rubble and helped me find my step ...a step that's let me reach out and grab her hand, believing fully that one day I will feel her softness against my own fingers once again. Words and writing have helped me trust God, hang on to Him and believe in the great goodness He is.
I'll always write until I can't anymore ...and not only about Phoebe, but about life, about the great want of life, which really is just our great need and want to be with God ...our Creator, who we are all intended for.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
The act of writing helps me process and understand little bits and pieces of what's happened and how to move along, hobbling, but moving. I have various little books where I write little notes to Phoebe. There is one big book started just after she died by a good friend and I'll stuff things in there too. The more creative aspects of my life were really the parts of me that Phoebe enjoyed the most. Writing is one of those areas and she enjoyed reading what I wrote, offering suggestions and comments that pushed me a little further.
Writing takes my racing mind and paces it, organizes the many streams of thoughts zigging and zagging constantly. I can extract an idea or a thought that replays and put it in black and white, let it stare back at me and come to understand myself, or something else a little bit better. Processing grief for a child is hard, hard work .."the hardest work you'll ever do," I'm told. Writing lets it out a bit, and that's one reason why writing this blog has been a good experience for me ...I see a reflection and begin to understand or see some progress made here and there ...some hope that life will go on ...that life is indeed going on.
Writing untangles my heart, my twisted, broken heart. Like massage, it nurtures the soreness and gives way to soothing ...'it will be okay." Sometimes, I can discuss my emotions far better in writing than in words. I think the keys under my fingers or the pen in hand guide me and provide the instrument, the channel that releases and unlocks things that need to come out ...need to be revealed to me.
Writing publicly, in a blog, was a leap for me. I have a few sites I visit, but honestly, I have a very short attention span on the computer, so I am in and out pretty quickly. I'd much rather read a book than read a computer screen, no matter how pretty. Blogs are a great vehicle to share wonderful ideas, faith, hobbies ...you name it. You take a risk too, when you write a blog, that you'll be rejected, criticized, ridiculed or misunderstood ...judged. That's part of writing one though, you put yourself out there knowing the risks involved. You never know if it gets read the way you intend, or if what you write is taken out of context, taken personally even. You understand you have no control over such things.
My intention of writing here has been to chronicle my walk through these difficult months and to share the experience of striving to make sense and hang on to my faith, for two reasons. One, I have people who care about me, love me, and were devastated for me. It became a way to share with them the walk I was on. Lots of these women deeply loved Phoebe too, they knew how hurting they were and are, and this blog became a vehicle for them to stay in touch, keep tabs, and cry a little bit with me here and there without having to leave their own crazy busy lives. If a post seemed particularly painful, I'd get a few phone calls ...touching base, or a note. "Hey, you ok?" I know friends appreciated being able to have a sense of where I was and how I was ...they didn't have to wonder and worry so much. I have friends who will never read this blog ...they simply can't go there. Friends who were best friends with me when we were seventeen ,,,the first friends to lay eyes on Phoebe, hold her when she was born. It took one twenty four hours to tell herself and her husband that Phoebe was dead. She couldn't say the words. The other called me when I stood next to Phoebe, singing to her, stroking her hair, saying goodbye, touching her one last time. When I didn't answer, she texted me a simple question ..."is it true?" And we're still asking "is it true?" We've found other ways ...they know I write, glad I do, they just won't go down there with me ...they stand guard instead, take me through mountain trails with mountain lions, proving to me that I will make it, laughing with me ...remembering. I write for them too ...even though they don't read these words.
Another important reason I decided to write this blog is to offer some hope, even a sliver. My life ended when Phoebe died. I have a different life now, a life without her. I have a good life, a rich, blessed life, but its not the same one I had before she died. Just like that, the axe came down and split my life into before Phoebe died and after Phoebe died. Other parents know what this is like, it's happened to them, after Phoebe died. I hope this blog can be a stepping stone, a road map for some ...to see what they might expect, to see that life continues, that God is always present, even in the darkest moments. I'm told it has helped some, and I'm glad for that. I don't want anyone to be or feel alone. I want everyone to know they can survive ...and that yes, their old life is gone, but they have a new one they just need to learn to fit into.
Maybe the most important reason why I write, why I've done this blog ...is for her, my Phoebe. It's a love story, really. A story about a mother and a girl who shared a dynamic, energetic, intense time on earth together. And it's a story of loss ...and finding, finding her again in the most peculiar places. But always finding her ...not feeling her, but finding her. Writing has brought her smile back to me ...her bright, beautiful smile that radiated from the tips of her toes ...her smile that spoke of love and the purest joy. I see it so clearly now, the one she had when she found comfort and knew she was so well loved. I know that's the smile she has now ...always. Putting words down has helped me find that smile again ...and find my own a little more too.
Sometimes when I write, I imagine her hands pressed hard on the back of my chair, bent forward, head close to mine. Sometimes I can feel her breath on my neck, sense what she might say, a line, a word she would like or tell me to ditch. I can feel her push her hands hard off the back of my chair ...every movement had power for her. Maybe its sitting in this chair, the one my own mother rocked me and all of her babies in ...that ties me to Phoebe, the familiar posture, the physical closeness ...those moments of shared space and time ...the words appearing on the screen ...that keeps me writing.
Not everyone writes, not everyone needs to or wants to ...for me it's been good, building a bridge to understanding and acceptance. It's helped me climb from the rubble and helped me find my step ...a step that's let me reach out and grab her hand, believing fully that one day I will feel her softness against my own fingers once again. Words and writing have helped me trust God, hang on to Him and believe in the great goodness He is.
I'll always write until I can't anymore ...and not only about Phoebe, but about life, about the great want of life, which really is just our great need and want to be with God ...our Creator, who we are all intended for.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Feast Day
Today we honor Our Lady of Lourdes. Today ends her novena ...may all your intentions be answered, and may our hearts be open to the grace of God hearing and responding in the best way, not necessarily our way.
I'll start today with Mass offered for Phoebe ....a gift for my sweet girl.
And please pray today for all those receiving the sacrament of confirmation. Our local parish offers that today and a few fine young men I know will take that step ...remember them, please.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
I'll start today with Mass offered for Phoebe ....a gift for my sweet girl.
And please pray today for all those receiving the sacrament of confirmation. Our local parish offers that today and a few fine young men I know will take that step ...remember them, please.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Some added reading
A few more titles that I gave me comfort.
The Practice of the Presence of God: Brother Lawrence - This was passed on to my by a friend who sensed my need to just 'be' with God. Its a beautiful comforting read, especially for times when the prayers seem dry and the words can't come. Everything he did was a moment with God. Great tasks he was ill prepared for were expected of him and he never gave way to worry and would excel at the job, stunning himself, yet so full and confident in how God had provided and guide seamlessly. Brother Lawrence was a very simple, humble man who lived very long ago and practiced his faith more by setting his heart inside of the Creator, than in the rituals. And I don't suggest that, nor does the book, rituals and proper formal worship are disposable. They are important elements and obligations we must adhere to out of love, more than out of following the law.It's the type of book that you need to read to understand.
It helped me with gratitude and confidence, offering and opening a sense of wonder for me that had been dimming in my sadness.
Imperfect Birds: Anne Lamott - I love this author. I like her style of writing, her keen and quirky observations of life, and her great appreciation for the weaving of grace through life. I've loved everything I've read. I only liked this book and I did not like the ending ...it was too abrupt, and sort of hokey. There is no faith woven through this book. It's the story of a mother and her daughter, her only child. The daughter is an exceptional tennis player and a great student with a promising future who gets lulled into the world of partying and experimenting with drugs. The hidden life of a teenager is revealed very clearly and it shows how easily parents are fooled ...even the ones bent on not being fooled. It was disturbing in that sense, sort of highlighting our vulnerabilities as parents, our desire to believe that everything is ok, and the reality of how little control we have over these wanna-be adults.
I think the story ended too abruptly, leaving a false sense of "okay, everything is all better now." When kids use drugs, drink and have sex ....it doesn't end there. Behaviors impact and influence our lives for a very, very long time, often physically, certainly emotionally, and always spiritually ..whether we agree with that or not ....it does.
We live with the choices we make. Incredibly, God can take some of our poor choices, infuse grace, and make it all work for us to grow and learn in better ways. Sometimes 'the falls' are what make us stand taller with more confidence to serve God in our everyday lives.
The Bible: I've been trying to read the bible for years, and have started in fits and starts. I have read more this year so far than any other, and though I haven't been as disciplined as I'd hoped, I am committed to make it a regular part of my devotions, if not daily, at least weekly. I've found my faith to find its best comfort in the life of the apostles when they were floundering and struggling, but obedient and trusting. They are wonderful examples for me and guides. Their center was always Christ, and their love of the Blessed Mother was evident. There's simply too much chaos in our world today ...far too many opinions about the rightness and wrongness of how to be Catholic. I find it overwhelming and sad ...too distracting. I work on my interior disposition, faith in our home and a belief that God does not expect me to figure out which Mass is valid or not. He knows my heart, my great desire to serve Him and love Him in the best possible way. I used to worry about all that stuff, I can't anymore ....I will go crazy, or I will lose my faith.
Reading the words of the Bible let me know God more intimately and give me a sense of my heritage as one of His own.
One Thousand Gifts: Ann Voskamp - A friend gave me this book and I've started it, but couldn't get past the beginning when she recalls the death of her sister ...and the changes it brought to her family. I've read lots and lots of reviews and comments on this book. I know its a good one, one that should be read and savored. Ann writes at http://www.aholyexperience.com/, and I've loved her writing for a long time ...its like a sweet lullaby in the midst of chaos. For several years I would open that blog first thing in the morning on our kitchen computer and just let the music play. It was the music of our mornings, my mornings with Phoebe. They are farmers and that appealed to Phoebe, so she would often look at the pictures and the faces of the children in this family. It was a familiar ritual for the two of us. I haven't played that music for a long time ...it reminds me too much of the silent moments in the early morning, just me and my girl, before anyone else stirred. I look at that book a lot, and one day I'll read it ...It's about gratitude ...in all things. I strive for that, but I think I fear that if I read the book it will obligate me to actually live gratitude ...always. And I want to do that, I try to, but my heart is still tender, and honestly, I still have a little yelling left in me.
I know enough from her other writing though, that she 'gets it' ...our lives striving to live our faith, love our kids and give the best of ourselves in everything we do.
Without even reading all of it, I can confidently recommend it to you.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
The Practice of the Presence of God: Brother Lawrence - This was passed on to my by a friend who sensed my need to just 'be' with God. Its a beautiful comforting read, especially for times when the prayers seem dry and the words can't come. Everything he did was a moment with God. Great tasks he was ill prepared for were expected of him and he never gave way to worry and would excel at the job, stunning himself, yet so full and confident in how God had provided and guide seamlessly. Brother Lawrence was a very simple, humble man who lived very long ago and practiced his faith more by setting his heart inside of the Creator, than in the rituals. And I don't suggest that, nor does the book, rituals and proper formal worship are disposable. They are important elements and obligations we must adhere to out of love, more than out of following the law.It's the type of book that you need to read to understand.
It helped me with gratitude and confidence, offering and opening a sense of wonder for me that had been dimming in my sadness.
Imperfect Birds: Anne Lamott - I love this author. I like her style of writing, her keen and quirky observations of life, and her great appreciation for the weaving of grace through life. I've loved everything I've read. I only liked this book and I did not like the ending ...it was too abrupt, and sort of hokey. There is no faith woven through this book. It's the story of a mother and her daughter, her only child. The daughter is an exceptional tennis player and a great student with a promising future who gets lulled into the world of partying and experimenting with drugs. The hidden life of a teenager is revealed very clearly and it shows how easily parents are fooled ...even the ones bent on not being fooled. It was disturbing in that sense, sort of highlighting our vulnerabilities as parents, our desire to believe that everything is ok, and the reality of how little control we have over these wanna-be adults.
I think the story ended too abruptly, leaving a false sense of "okay, everything is all better now." When kids use drugs, drink and have sex ....it doesn't end there. Behaviors impact and influence our lives for a very, very long time, often physically, certainly emotionally, and always spiritually ..whether we agree with that or not ....it does.
We live with the choices we make. Incredibly, God can take some of our poor choices, infuse grace, and make it all work for us to grow and learn in better ways. Sometimes 'the falls' are what make us stand taller with more confidence to serve God in our everyday lives.
The Bible: I've been trying to read the bible for years, and have started in fits and starts. I have read more this year so far than any other, and though I haven't been as disciplined as I'd hoped, I am committed to make it a regular part of my devotions, if not daily, at least weekly. I've found my faith to find its best comfort in the life of the apostles when they were floundering and struggling, but obedient and trusting. They are wonderful examples for me and guides. Their center was always Christ, and their love of the Blessed Mother was evident. There's simply too much chaos in our world today ...far too many opinions about the rightness and wrongness of how to be Catholic. I find it overwhelming and sad ...too distracting. I work on my interior disposition, faith in our home and a belief that God does not expect me to figure out which Mass is valid or not. He knows my heart, my great desire to serve Him and love Him in the best possible way. I used to worry about all that stuff, I can't anymore ....I will go crazy, or I will lose my faith.
Reading the words of the Bible let me know God more intimately and give me a sense of my heritage as one of His own.
One Thousand Gifts: Ann Voskamp - A friend gave me this book and I've started it, but couldn't get past the beginning when she recalls the death of her sister ...and the changes it brought to her family. I've read lots and lots of reviews and comments on this book. I know its a good one, one that should be read and savored. Ann writes at http://www.aholyexperience.com/, and I've loved her writing for a long time ...its like a sweet lullaby in the midst of chaos. For several years I would open that blog first thing in the morning on our kitchen computer and just let the music play. It was the music of our mornings, my mornings with Phoebe. They are farmers and that appealed to Phoebe, so she would often look at the pictures and the faces of the children in this family. It was a familiar ritual for the two of us. I haven't played that music for a long time ...it reminds me too much of the silent moments in the early morning, just me and my girl, before anyone else stirred. I look at that book a lot, and one day I'll read it ...It's about gratitude ...in all things. I strive for that, but I think I fear that if I read the book it will obligate me to actually live gratitude ...always. And I want to do that, I try to, but my heart is still tender, and honestly, I still have a little yelling left in me.
I know enough from her other writing though, that she 'gets it' ...our lives striving to live our faith, love our kids and give the best of ourselves in everything we do.
Without even reading all of it, I can confidently recommend it to you.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Reading list
Survival Guide Tips:
One fallout from grief is losing the ability to read. I don't mean in the literal sense, I can still read ....but to read a book, an article, anything of length, has been stifled. It's much better now, gladly, but initially I simply couldn't, and not from lack of desire ...I could not comprehend or process the words. My brain would ache, words would blur, I would feel woozy ...I just could not read like I was accustomed to reading. That was hard for me, I believed reading could be a distraction ...and yet I couldn't access it like I had hoped.
There were two books I picked my way through early on, literally a page or two at a time ...and that was a struggle. I wanted to know what was inside, I searched for some magic words, a map, a promise ...anything that would reveal some comfort, some hope ...anything that would ease the pain ...the chronic, piercing raw pain that had come to live in me. And then, over time, I read some more books ...more pages at a time. I'm not where I used to be in my ability to read at great lengths (but I haven't had that kind of time for years anyway). Reading has always been a great comfort and joy for me. I love to read, it unlocks ideas and thoughts inside of me, often times gives me words to describe my own experiences and will often help me see things differently, consider another perspective. These are the books I've read that I believe helped me in various ways ...some of them were a lifeline, others were my friends as they revealed the reality of what we all experience when a child dies. Not everyone finds comfort in books, I do.
The titles are not necessarily in order of reading, except for the first four.
I'm still looking for other books and other themes, and they'll come in time
A Grief Observed: C.S. Lewis - This is a fairly short book, a chronicle of his early phase of grief over losing his wife to cancer. Lewis has a deep faith, one he was certainly grounded in and lived out day to day. From the outside, in an effort to care and guide, people will often encourage us to lean on our faith, to trust, to believe ...to not despair. And that's a good thing to encourage, but what is often lost there is that the depths of pain, the questions, the struggle to trust and believe ...the fight to hold on is leaning on and living our faith. What seems contrary to one who believes, is in fact the proof of belief. I wish having faith meant that life could be tied up in neat, tidy, pretty packages. And looking out at the world, the surface of it anyway, it appears that does happen for some people. For most though, it doesn't ...life leaves us lurching, heaving and grasping ....and holding onto the promises of our faith is an enormous fight that we choose. In our despair, we do not give up on God ...but do we come at Him with questions, pounding and tears? ...yes, like never before. Lewis captured this for me, put words of disbelief in place for me, like a lifeboat. I read his words and knew I wasn't crazy, I wasn't turning my back on God ...I was reaching for Him. I realized through this book that I was living my faith ...in a very active, real way. And early on, this gave me some much needed balance ...it was okay to feel like I was losing my mind, my faith, my way. Each page walked me through the darkness I had come to know. Every once in a while, a glimmer would peak through, just like it does in real life ...the hint of sunrise. But the clouds move in again, thicker and darker, hovering with no signs of moving ...and miraculously, His light ultimately breaks through even the thickest and darkest of clouds. This book didn't give me the hope or expectation that things would one day be all bright and cheery, but it did assure me that sometimes the sky would clear ...and that I would survive. Early on, that's what I needed to know ...that I could survive.
A Grief Unveiled: One Father's Journey Through the Loss of a Child: Gregory Floyd- A friend from my mothers group sent this to me, along with another I have yet to read, but most certainly will. I made my way through this book slowly, searching desperately for what to expect, a clue that would tell me the pain would relent. I found that in this book. I read about stages long before I arrived there. And the author shares it all from the experience of choosing to trust God, which is what I had and have done all along. He loses his young son when he is playing in his yard, and the sun blinds a driver which results in the son being hit and killed. Another freak accident that leaves an enormous hole in this man and his family. I like this book a lot because it relied so heavily on faith as a Catholic and the deliberate decision to trust and thank God beyond all reason. As I read this, just weeks into losing Phoebe, he spoke of a time when he would have moments of smiles and laughter ..and that gave me tremendous hope. Those times did and do come. I hung on to the words in this book and if someone is striving to survive the loss of this magnitude, while hanging on to their faith ...I would insist on reading this book.
No Time to Say Goodbye: Carla Fine - This is the story of suicide. Several people are interviewed and share their experience of loss from suicide. I found comfort in reading so many stories, which made me feel less isolated and alone. The stories echo the disbelief and confusion suicide often leaves behind. Some people struggle for years with depression, spiraling downward as others watch, helpless. Others, like us, were so blindsided that life becomes a questionable reality ...we learn to question and suspect everything. Every smile is examined, every tear is a threat. You learn to adjust and become more reasonable, but it haunts you. Whether you watched someone struggle with depression, or it came from nowhere, it is never ever expected ...you are always stunned ...and left with questions that will never be answered. At the time I read this book, it was more out of curiosity. I didn't really take anything from it, no gems that cleared the confusion ...just shared experiences that confirmed that suicide happens. I look at things through the lens of faith and that wasn't part of these stories at all, so while I found some common threads, our paths forward are very different.
My Son, My Son: Iris Bolton - Without exception, this was THE most important book I read. Bolton loses her 21 year old son to suicide on a beautiful Saturday morning, after he has walked in the house, greeted his dad and neighbor in a friendly, regular way, goes to his room and shoots himself in the head. There was NO warning. Iris Bolton owned and operated her own family therapy business, oversaw the counseling of hundreds of people, years of experience assessing, evaluating and treating ...and even she was stunned, so unprepared and blindsided by her own son, who lived with her. I felt better after reading that! Bolton talks about suicide, the effects on the people left behind, most especially the parents, and the pieces we are left to find and put back together. She is hopeful and real. If you want to understand what someone goes through, this would be a good book to read. If you know anyone who's experienced loss of a child by suicide, recommend this book.
"We give our children the best of ourselves and the worst of ourselves ...it's up to them to do with it what they will." I find great comfort in this line. I questioned, and still do, my role in Phoebe's death. That will be lifelong for me ....making peace, losing it, finding it again in some obscure way. Any parent who loses a child to suicide will search for any way they could have prevented their child's death.
In addition, society loves to point the finger at parents. If a child excels, we congratulate the parents on doing such a great job. If a child faulters, we blame the parents and find ways in which they failed. Children have become a parent's resume. But the truth is that a child will excel and do well by choice. Of course, a strong family foundation, involved parenting, love and respect assist a child in all that. But we can find many who've overcome great odds, poor family environments, abuse, abandonment, and risen above and beyond ...no parent to place it on their resume. Likewise, there are plenty of kids whose parents have given there all, loved and nurtured ...and their child just doesn't make it. Does that make us bad parents? Think about how society answers that question. And challenge yourself, especially if you are parents of kids who've done it all the 'right' way. Really examine what you think about parents who lose a child to suicide, or have a child using drugs, or sleeping around, or dropping out of school. People's lives have stories that aren't all neat and clean. Many of our kids have experiences we never know about that leave them empty, helpless and hopeless,and we are all so quick to write them off ...consider them a 'bad' influence on the 'good' kids. I know, I was one of those people who guarded, thought I could control, thought I could prevent, thought I had insulated ourselves enough ...and I was wrong.
This particular book grounded me and helped me keep the negativity at bay and reaffirm the truth ...that suicide makes its way into the most unlikely of places. It can happen to anyone, anytime.
In losing a child to suicide, there is the loss of the child, but also the painful recognition that we are blamed, that we should have known and should have done something different, or at least better. My Son, My Son, takes us beyond that and into reality ...that bad things, like good, undeserved things, just happen ...through no one's fault and no one's 'right' action. Life just happens, and sometimes a beautiful, talented, well loved seventeen year old girl, will be overcome with such despair in a matter of moments that she will, in the blink of an eye, choose to die. Is that enough to make me stop taking blame? No, but it is at least an escape, a foothold that will let me rest at times, and renew ....and hope.
Sugar Cookies and a Nightmare: Carol Kearns - I picked up this book for the title ...because it so beautifully captures the life of your child, your sugar cookie, and the nightmare of losing them. In the author's case her seven year old daughter is swept out to sea by a rogue wave one unsuspecting day. I read with urgency the first third or so of this book and totally related to her experience. She captured the sheer horror of loss that happens in an instant. But ...though I finished the book, I lost my connection with her as she tells her story of coming to terms with her grief after sending her son, her only remaining child, to live with her ex husband. Believe me, I understand how she could choose that. You are drowning in the death of your child, you are certain you cannot care for anyone else. I get that. But that is not my story. I didn't go off on months of recovery workshops and alter my life in such a way as to work solely on my grief until I felt strong again. I'm sure she could not relate to my life either ...the busyness, the distractions, the pull away from a grief you want to wrap yourself and lose yourself in. She makes some wonderful observations and I think it may be a wonderful book for some, but for me, I probably would not read it again.
Night Road: Kristin Hannah - Sad. A sad, sad story of a mother's love and what loss can do to a person's soul ...the sheer shattering, after years of loving and holding. There's lots of aspects to this story parent's should consider. The teenage years are risky ...and most kids are really, really good at hiding the shenanigans that pepper their lives. No parent should consider "my child would never ....I would definitely know, we talk all the time" Think again. Tragedy can strike ...even the all stars, the top students, the meek and unpopular. Teenagers have brains that malfunction, but carry a sophistication to throw all of us off track. I could relate to the mother in lots of ways. The book does a good job capturing the havoc of a mom's heart, and the fear she lived with. The mom spends years in gray, a fear I have, but it does lift, slightly and slowly.
The Knitting Circle: Ann Hood: I loved this book and have written about it on this blog. I simply loved this book ...it was a timely read for me. My life is far different than the mother in this book who loses her only child. She is left with a radically altered life. I have a bounty of children that keep me off the couch, out of bed ...they keep me engaged in day to day, moment to moment living ...and that is a blessing. But there is an emotional side of me that has indeed languished on the couch, felt the pull of desperation and uncontrolled pain yank me beneath the blankets. The mother cultivates obscure friendships she wouldn't have otherwise, breaks through some preconceived ideas about people and their lives, their motivations ...she sees through to the pain of life like she hadn't before. And truly that is what happens ...you find friendships forming you know would not have had your child lived. You make connections with people who live lives and make choices that would not be yours. You can recognize right and wrong, but still see to the heart of a person and love them, finding an empathy not there before. It doesn't happen overnight, but I've experienced it and have listened to countless others share the similar experience of 'bonding' with the most unlikely people.
The book breaks through the painful first few years and finds a new hope rising, life is different, but it grows with possibility while carrying the sorrow of loss ...a sweet sorrow that enhances the joy.
Comfort: Ann Hood - a return to this author, this book is the tale of her real life loss of her daughter at the age of five. It chronicles the shattering, the disbelief and despair. It's not a very long book but one that honestly captures the 'free float' of agony we find ourselves living when a child dies ...a despair we learn to hide and keep secret ...sharing only with a few. Like her other novel, she shares the difficult journey of loss.
And she writes about the promise of good things to come, a life worth living that finds a way to have your child by your side, still very much a part of your every day.
The Red Thread: Ann Hood - another great book by this author that tells the tale of Americans adopting Chinese baby girls ...the process, the waiting, the struggle that leads people there. It tells the tale from the Chinese mothers side too, a painful look at what these women lose, not by choice. Rebuilding life, making life good ...again, carries the reader through a very good story, while revealing the hidden side of the whole process for those who relinquish ....and then those who receive. I found a lot of hope in this book.
What I've seen so far is the many people on this journey, before me, and the wonderful things they do, often the kinds of things that will save the lives of other children. Parents will never know their child's life was spared because of the generous outpouring of parents who have lost, taking on a cause that offers a protection not there for their own children. In this book, the main character opens an agency to unite the empty yearnings of motherhood only after she has lost her own child. She turns her despair into helping others ...like so many do.
The Lovely Bones: Alice Sebold - I just finished this novel. When I shared with friends that I was reading this book, some of them winced. Others gave me a questioning look. I understand, but really, I found this book to be an unusual comfort. I've started books in the past with a gruesome assault on a child in the early pages of the book ...and I've stopped reading ...never to pick up again. I tried those books before Phoebe died, and I have no interest in returning to those discarded books. But for some reason, this title kept presenting to me, and finally, on a day I had to pick up kids, I left my job and there it was on a counter. I took it with me in case the pick up time was delayed so that I'd have something to read. The main character hooked me from the beginning. It is a terrible story, a parent's worse nightmare of a child's brutal murder. The girl speaks from 'her' heaven, and she watches her family and others make their way through the trauma and despair of loss ...and its this, the reflection of her mother and father, her sister and brother, and their struggle to survive and make sense of a life without Susie, that kept me reading, that wrapped me in an understanding so often eluding words and description ...the sheer emptiness ...the sheer will to inject meaning back into life. Even while the meaning of other living children is so obvious, it's as if a glass door separates you from them. Trapped ...in the agony of missing and loss, searching and hoping consume parents like me. The intellect assures you of those still present, but you've disconnected, at least for a time, while the rebuilding slowly ...ever, ever so slowly, makes something new, something that once again can be called 'good.'
Susie describes 'her' heaven, and that too has given me some comfort. There is no way we can ever know what Heaven is like from this side of life, but the representations here gave me something to consider, a way to imagine, picture Phoebe, and what her life could be like now. There are no claims on a religious perspective here, and there are a couple of scenes that are contrary to Catholic teaching, but I was able to see beyond that and find some comfort in the story.
I'll keep reading, keep looking at words that might offer me a clue, a hint, a hope. Phoebe and I shared books, I'd read one, pass it on and vice versa. Last night I pulled one off the shelf, Olive Kitteredge, and remembered our discussion of it. She had wanted to read it since it was sent to me from my friend Kelly. Kelly had sent it to me and Cathy. Our high school trio would have a book club even if we weren't all together. Phoebe loved that trio, and she was and is loved by them. We all shared that book ...a last read with Phoebe. I miss sharing books with her ...miss hearing her thoughts about character development, themes. I miss her voice and her mind. But reading now keeps me close to her, it was one of the things we shared. Books have helped me dig through and make some sense.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
One fallout from grief is losing the ability to read. I don't mean in the literal sense, I can still read ....but to read a book, an article, anything of length, has been stifled. It's much better now, gladly, but initially I simply couldn't, and not from lack of desire ...I could not comprehend or process the words. My brain would ache, words would blur, I would feel woozy ...I just could not read like I was accustomed to reading. That was hard for me, I believed reading could be a distraction ...and yet I couldn't access it like I had hoped.
There were two books I picked my way through early on, literally a page or two at a time ...and that was a struggle. I wanted to know what was inside, I searched for some magic words, a map, a promise ...anything that would reveal some comfort, some hope ...anything that would ease the pain ...the chronic, piercing raw pain that had come to live in me. And then, over time, I read some more books ...more pages at a time. I'm not where I used to be in my ability to read at great lengths (but I haven't had that kind of time for years anyway). Reading has always been a great comfort and joy for me. I love to read, it unlocks ideas and thoughts inside of me, often times gives me words to describe my own experiences and will often help me see things differently, consider another perspective. These are the books I've read that I believe helped me in various ways ...some of them were a lifeline, others were my friends as they revealed the reality of what we all experience when a child dies. Not everyone finds comfort in books, I do.
The titles are not necessarily in order of reading, except for the first four.
I'm still looking for other books and other themes, and they'll come in time
A Grief Observed: C.S. Lewis - This is a fairly short book, a chronicle of his early phase of grief over losing his wife to cancer. Lewis has a deep faith, one he was certainly grounded in and lived out day to day. From the outside, in an effort to care and guide, people will often encourage us to lean on our faith, to trust, to believe ...to not despair. And that's a good thing to encourage, but what is often lost there is that the depths of pain, the questions, the struggle to trust and believe ...the fight to hold on is leaning on and living our faith. What seems contrary to one who believes, is in fact the proof of belief. I wish having faith meant that life could be tied up in neat, tidy, pretty packages. And looking out at the world, the surface of it anyway, it appears that does happen for some people. For most though, it doesn't ...life leaves us lurching, heaving and grasping ....and holding onto the promises of our faith is an enormous fight that we choose. In our despair, we do not give up on God ...but do we come at Him with questions, pounding and tears? ...yes, like never before. Lewis captured this for me, put words of disbelief in place for me, like a lifeboat. I read his words and knew I wasn't crazy, I wasn't turning my back on God ...I was reaching for Him. I realized through this book that I was living my faith ...in a very active, real way. And early on, this gave me some much needed balance ...it was okay to feel like I was losing my mind, my faith, my way. Each page walked me through the darkness I had come to know. Every once in a while, a glimmer would peak through, just like it does in real life ...the hint of sunrise. But the clouds move in again, thicker and darker, hovering with no signs of moving ...and miraculously, His light ultimately breaks through even the thickest and darkest of clouds. This book didn't give me the hope or expectation that things would one day be all bright and cheery, but it did assure me that sometimes the sky would clear ...and that I would survive. Early on, that's what I needed to know ...that I could survive.
A Grief Unveiled: One Father's Journey Through the Loss of a Child: Gregory Floyd- A friend from my mothers group sent this to me, along with another I have yet to read, but most certainly will. I made my way through this book slowly, searching desperately for what to expect, a clue that would tell me the pain would relent. I found that in this book. I read about stages long before I arrived there. And the author shares it all from the experience of choosing to trust God, which is what I had and have done all along. He loses his young son when he is playing in his yard, and the sun blinds a driver which results in the son being hit and killed. Another freak accident that leaves an enormous hole in this man and his family. I like this book a lot because it relied so heavily on faith as a Catholic and the deliberate decision to trust and thank God beyond all reason. As I read this, just weeks into losing Phoebe, he spoke of a time when he would have moments of smiles and laughter ..and that gave me tremendous hope. Those times did and do come. I hung on to the words in this book and if someone is striving to survive the loss of this magnitude, while hanging on to their faith ...I would insist on reading this book.
No Time to Say Goodbye: Carla Fine - This is the story of suicide. Several people are interviewed and share their experience of loss from suicide. I found comfort in reading so many stories, which made me feel less isolated and alone. The stories echo the disbelief and confusion suicide often leaves behind. Some people struggle for years with depression, spiraling downward as others watch, helpless. Others, like us, were so blindsided that life becomes a questionable reality ...we learn to question and suspect everything. Every smile is examined, every tear is a threat. You learn to adjust and become more reasonable, but it haunts you. Whether you watched someone struggle with depression, or it came from nowhere, it is never ever expected ...you are always stunned ...and left with questions that will never be answered. At the time I read this book, it was more out of curiosity. I didn't really take anything from it, no gems that cleared the confusion ...just shared experiences that confirmed that suicide happens. I look at things through the lens of faith and that wasn't part of these stories at all, so while I found some common threads, our paths forward are very different.
My Son, My Son: Iris Bolton - Without exception, this was THE most important book I read. Bolton loses her 21 year old son to suicide on a beautiful Saturday morning, after he has walked in the house, greeted his dad and neighbor in a friendly, regular way, goes to his room and shoots himself in the head. There was NO warning. Iris Bolton owned and operated her own family therapy business, oversaw the counseling of hundreds of people, years of experience assessing, evaluating and treating ...and even she was stunned, so unprepared and blindsided by her own son, who lived with her. I felt better after reading that! Bolton talks about suicide, the effects on the people left behind, most especially the parents, and the pieces we are left to find and put back together. She is hopeful and real. If you want to understand what someone goes through, this would be a good book to read. If you know anyone who's experienced loss of a child by suicide, recommend this book.
"We give our children the best of ourselves and the worst of ourselves ...it's up to them to do with it what they will." I find great comfort in this line. I questioned, and still do, my role in Phoebe's death. That will be lifelong for me ....making peace, losing it, finding it again in some obscure way. Any parent who loses a child to suicide will search for any way they could have prevented their child's death.
In addition, society loves to point the finger at parents. If a child excels, we congratulate the parents on doing such a great job. If a child faulters, we blame the parents and find ways in which they failed. Children have become a parent's resume. But the truth is that a child will excel and do well by choice. Of course, a strong family foundation, involved parenting, love and respect assist a child in all that. But we can find many who've overcome great odds, poor family environments, abuse, abandonment, and risen above and beyond ...no parent to place it on their resume. Likewise, there are plenty of kids whose parents have given there all, loved and nurtured ...and their child just doesn't make it. Does that make us bad parents? Think about how society answers that question. And challenge yourself, especially if you are parents of kids who've done it all the 'right' way. Really examine what you think about parents who lose a child to suicide, or have a child using drugs, or sleeping around, or dropping out of school. People's lives have stories that aren't all neat and clean. Many of our kids have experiences we never know about that leave them empty, helpless and hopeless,and we are all so quick to write them off ...consider them a 'bad' influence on the 'good' kids. I know, I was one of those people who guarded, thought I could control, thought I could prevent, thought I had insulated ourselves enough ...and I was wrong.
This particular book grounded me and helped me keep the negativity at bay and reaffirm the truth ...that suicide makes its way into the most unlikely of places. It can happen to anyone, anytime.
In losing a child to suicide, there is the loss of the child, but also the painful recognition that we are blamed, that we should have known and should have done something different, or at least better. My Son, My Son, takes us beyond that and into reality ...that bad things, like good, undeserved things, just happen ...through no one's fault and no one's 'right' action. Life just happens, and sometimes a beautiful, talented, well loved seventeen year old girl, will be overcome with such despair in a matter of moments that she will, in the blink of an eye, choose to die. Is that enough to make me stop taking blame? No, but it is at least an escape, a foothold that will let me rest at times, and renew ....and hope.
Sugar Cookies and a Nightmare: Carol Kearns - I picked up this book for the title ...because it so beautifully captures the life of your child, your sugar cookie, and the nightmare of losing them. In the author's case her seven year old daughter is swept out to sea by a rogue wave one unsuspecting day. I read with urgency the first third or so of this book and totally related to her experience. She captured the sheer horror of loss that happens in an instant. But ...though I finished the book, I lost my connection with her as she tells her story of coming to terms with her grief after sending her son, her only remaining child, to live with her ex husband. Believe me, I understand how she could choose that. You are drowning in the death of your child, you are certain you cannot care for anyone else. I get that. But that is not my story. I didn't go off on months of recovery workshops and alter my life in such a way as to work solely on my grief until I felt strong again. I'm sure she could not relate to my life either ...the busyness, the distractions, the pull away from a grief you want to wrap yourself and lose yourself in. She makes some wonderful observations and I think it may be a wonderful book for some, but for me, I probably would not read it again.
Night Road: Kristin Hannah - Sad. A sad, sad story of a mother's love and what loss can do to a person's soul ...the sheer shattering, after years of loving and holding. There's lots of aspects to this story parent's should consider. The teenage years are risky ...and most kids are really, really good at hiding the shenanigans that pepper their lives. No parent should consider "my child would never ....I would definitely know, we talk all the time" Think again. Tragedy can strike ...even the all stars, the top students, the meek and unpopular. Teenagers have brains that malfunction, but carry a sophistication to throw all of us off track. I could relate to the mother in lots of ways. The book does a good job capturing the havoc of a mom's heart, and the fear she lived with. The mom spends years in gray, a fear I have, but it does lift, slightly and slowly.
The Knitting Circle: Ann Hood: I loved this book and have written about it on this blog. I simply loved this book ...it was a timely read for me. My life is far different than the mother in this book who loses her only child. She is left with a radically altered life. I have a bounty of children that keep me off the couch, out of bed ...they keep me engaged in day to day, moment to moment living ...and that is a blessing. But there is an emotional side of me that has indeed languished on the couch, felt the pull of desperation and uncontrolled pain yank me beneath the blankets. The mother cultivates obscure friendships she wouldn't have otherwise, breaks through some preconceived ideas about people and their lives, their motivations ...she sees through to the pain of life like she hadn't before. And truly that is what happens ...you find friendships forming you know would not have had your child lived. You make connections with people who live lives and make choices that would not be yours. You can recognize right and wrong, but still see to the heart of a person and love them, finding an empathy not there before. It doesn't happen overnight, but I've experienced it and have listened to countless others share the similar experience of 'bonding' with the most unlikely people.
The book breaks through the painful first few years and finds a new hope rising, life is different, but it grows with possibility while carrying the sorrow of loss ...a sweet sorrow that enhances the joy.
Comfort: Ann Hood - a return to this author, this book is the tale of her real life loss of her daughter at the age of five. It chronicles the shattering, the disbelief and despair. It's not a very long book but one that honestly captures the 'free float' of agony we find ourselves living when a child dies ...a despair we learn to hide and keep secret ...sharing only with a few. Like her other novel, she shares the difficult journey of loss.
And she writes about the promise of good things to come, a life worth living that finds a way to have your child by your side, still very much a part of your every day.
The Red Thread: Ann Hood - another great book by this author that tells the tale of Americans adopting Chinese baby girls ...the process, the waiting, the struggle that leads people there. It tells the tale from the Chinese mothers side too, a painful look at what these women lose, not by choice. Rebuilding life, making life good ...again, carries the reader through a very good story, while revealing the hidden side of the whole process for those who relinquish ....and then those who receive. I found a lot of hope in this book.
What I've seen so far is the many people on this journey, before me, and the wonderful things they do, often the kinds of things that will save the lives of other children. Parents will never know their child's life was spared because of the generous outpouring of parents who have lost, taking on a cause that offers a protection not there for their own children. In this book, the main character opens an agency to unite the empty yearnings of motherhood only after she has lost her own child. She turns her despair into helping others ...like so many do.
The Lovely Bones: Alice Sebold - I just finished this novel. When I shared with friends that I was reading this book, some of them winced. Others gave me a questioning look. I understand, but really, I found this book to be an unusual comfort. I've started books in the past with a gruesome assault on a child in the early pages of the book ...and I've stopped reading ...never to pick up again. I tried those books before Phoebe died, and I have no interest in returning to those discarded books. But for some reason, this title kept presenting to me, and finally, on a day I had to pick up kids, I left my job and there it was on a counter. I took it with me in case the pick up time was delayed so that I'd have something to read. The main character hooked me from the beginning. It is a terrible story, a parent's worse nightmare of a child's brutal murder. The girl speaks from 'her' heaven, and she watches her family and others make their way through the trauma and despair of loss ...and its this, the reflection of her mother and father, her sister and brother, and their struggle to survive and make sense of a life without Susie, that kept me reading, that wrapped me in an understanding so often eluding words and description ...the sheer emptiness ...the sheer will to inject meaning back into life. Even while the meaning of other living children is so obvious, it's as if a glass door separates you from them. Trapped ...in the agony of missing and loss, searching and hoping consume parents like me. The intellect assures you of those still present, but you've disconnected, at least for a time, while the rebuilding slowly ...ever, ever so slowly, makes something new, something that once again can be called 'good.'
Susie describes 'her' heaven, and that too has given me some comfort. There is no way we can ever know what Heaven is like from this side of life, but the representations here gave me something to consider, a way to imagine, picture Phoebe, and what her life could be like now. There are no claims on a religious perspective here, and there are a couple of scenes that are contrary to Catholic teaching, but I was able to see beyond that and find some comfort in the story.
I'll keep reading, keep looking at words that might offer me a clue, a hint, a hope. Phoebe and I shared books, I'd read one, pass it on and vice versa. Last night I pulled one off the shelf, Olive Kitteredge, and remembered our discussion of it. She had wanted to read it since it was sent to me from my friend Kelly. Kelly had sent it to me and Cathy. Our high school trio would have a book club even if we weren't all together. Phoebe loved that trio, and she was and is loved by them. We all shared that book ...a last read with Phoebe. I miss sharing books with her ...miss hearing her thoughts about character development, themes. I miss her voice and her mind. But reading now keeps me close to her, it was one of the things we shared. Books have helped me dig through and make some sense.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Our Lady of Lourdes Novena
Today begins the novena to Our Lady of Lourdes, a powerful prayer. May all your prayers be answered.
Preliminary Prayer to be said each day
Be blessed, O most pure Virgin, for having vouchsafed to manifest your shining with life, sweetness and beauty, in the Grotto of Lourdes, saying to the child, St. Bernadette: "I am the Immaculate Conception." A thousand times we congratulate you upon your Immaculate Conception. And now, O ever Immaculate Virgin, Mother of mercy, Health of the sick, Refuge of sinners, Comforter of the afflicted, you know our wants, our troubles, our sufferings; deign to cast upon us a look of mercy. By appearing in the Grotto of Lourdes, you were pleased to make it a privileged sanctuary, whence you dispense your favors, and already many have obtained the cure of their infirmities, both spiritual and physical. We come, therefore, with the most unbounded confidence to implore your maternal intercession. Obtain for us, O loving Mother, the granting of our request. (mention your request) Through gratitude for your favors, we will endeavor to imitate your virtues, that we may one day share your glory.
Our Lady of Lourdes, Mother of Christ, you had influence with your Divine son while upon earth. You have the same influence now in Heaven. Pray for us; obtain for us from your Divine Son our special requests if it be the Divine Will. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
Help spread this Novena to Our Lady of Lourdes
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
O Lady of Bernadette, with the stars of heaven in your hair and the roses of earth at your feet, look with compassion upon us today as you did so long ago on Bernadette in the Grotto of Lourdes.
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
Help spread this Novena to Our Lady of Lourdes
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Preliminary Prayer to be said each day
Be blessed, O most pure Virgin, for having vouchsafed to manifest your shining with life, sweetness and beauty, in the Grotto of Lourdes, saying to the child, St. Bernadette: "I am the Immaculate Conception." A thousand times we congratulate you upon your Immaculate Conception. And now, O ever Immaculate Virgin, Mother of mercy, Health of the sick, Refuge of sinners, Comforter of the afflicted, you know our wants, our troubles, our sufferings; deign to cast upon us a look of mercy. By appearing in the Grotto of Lourdes, you were pleased to make it a privileged sanctuary, whence you dispense your favors, and already many have obtained the cure of their infirmities, both spiritual and physical. We come, therefore, with the most unbounded confidence to implore your maternal intercession. Obtain for us, O loving Mother, the granting of our request. (mention your request) Through gratitude for your favors, we will endeavor to imitate your virtues, that we may one day share your glory.
Our Lady of Lourdes, Mother of Christ, you had influence with your Divine son while upon earth. You have the same influence now in Heaven. Pray for us; obtain for us from your Divine Son our special requests if it be the Divine Will. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
Help spread this Novena to Our Lady of Lourdes
DAY ONE
Friday, February 3, 2012
O Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, virgin and mother, queen of heaven, chosen from all eternity to be the Mother of the Eternal Word and in virtue of this title preserved from original sin, we kneel before you as did little Bernadette at Lourdes and pray with childlike trust in you that as we contemplate your glorious appearance at Lourdes, you will look with mercy on our present petition and secure for us a favorable answer to the request for which we are making this novena. (mention your request)Friday, February 3, 2012
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
DAY TWO
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Be blessed, O most pure Virgin, for having vouchsafed to manifest yourself shining with light, sweetness and beauty, in the Grotto of Lourdes, saying to the child Saint Bernadette: "I am the Immaculate Conception!" O Mary Immaculate, inflame our hearts with one ray of the burning love of your pure heart. Let them be consumed with love for Jesus and for you, in order that we may merit one day to enjoy your glorious eternity. O dispenser of His graces here below, take into your keeping and present to your Divine Son the petition for which we are making this novena. (mention your request)Saturday, February 4, 2012
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
DAY THREE
Sunday, February 5, 2012
"You are all fair, O Mary, and there is in you no stain of original sin." O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee. O brilliant star of sanctity, as on that lovely day, upon a rough rock in Lourdes you spoke to the child Bernadette and a fountain broke from thee plain earth and miracles happened and the great shrine of Lourdes began, so now I beseech you to hear our fervent prayer and do, we beseech you, grant us the petition we now so earnestly seek. (mention your request)Sunday, February 5, 2012
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
DAY FOUR
Monday, February 6, 2012
O Immaculate Queen of Heaven, we your wayward, erring children, join our unworthy prayers of praise and thanksgiving to those of the angels and saints and your own the One, Holy, and Undivided Trinity may be glorified in heaven and on earth. Our Lady of Lourdes, as you looked down with love an mercy upon Bernadette as she prayed her rosary in the grotto, look down now, we beseech you, with love and mercy upon us. From the abundance of graces granted you by your Divine Son, sweet Mother of God, give to each of us all that your motherly heart sees we need and at this moment look with special favor on the grace we seek in this novena. (mention your request)Monday, February 6, 2012
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
DAY FIVE
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
O Mary Immaculate, Mother of god and our mother, from the heights of your dignity look down mercifully upon us while we, full of confidence in your unbounded goodness and confident that your Divine Son will look favorably upon any request you make of Him in our behalf, we beseech you to come to our aid and secure for us the favor we seek in this novena. (mention your request)Tuesday, February 7, 2012
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
DAY SIX
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
O glorious Mother of God, so powerful under your special title of Our Lady of Lourdes, to you we raise our hearts and hands to implore your powerful intercession in obtaining from the benign Heart of Jesus all the helps and graces necessary for our spiritual and temporal welfare and for the special favor we so earnestly seek in this novena. (mention your request)Wednesday, February 8, 2012
O Lady of Bernadette, with the stars of heaven in your hair and the roses of earth at your feet, look with compassion upon us today as you did so long ago on Bernadette in the Grotto of Lourdes.
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
Help spread this Novena to Our Lady of Lourdes
DAY SEVEN
Thursday, February 9, 2012
O Almighty God, who by the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary did prepare a worthy dwelling place for your Son, we humbly beseech you that as we contemplate the apparition of Our Lady in the Grotto of Lourdes, we may be blessed with health of mind and body. And, O most gracious Mother Mary, beloved Mother of Our Lord and Redeemer, look with favor upon us as you did that day on Bernadette and intercede with Him for us that the favor we now so earnestly seek may be granted to us. (mention your request)Thursday, February 9, 2012
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
DAY EIGHT
Friday, February 10, 2012
O Immaculate Mother of God, from heaven itself you came to appear to the little Bernadette in the rough Grotto of Lourdes! And as Bernadette knelt at your feet and the magic spring burst forth and as multitudes have knelt ever since before your shrine, O Mother of God, we kneel before you today to ask that in your mercy you plead with your Divine Son to grant the special favor we seek in this novena. (mention your request)Friday, February 10, 2012
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
DAY NINE
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Feast Day: Our Lady of Lourdes
(First apparition to St. Bernadette)
O glorious Mother of god, to you we raise our hearts and hands to implore your powerful intercession in obtaining from the benign Heart of Jesus all the graces necessary for our spiritual and temporal welfare, particularly for the grace of a happy death. O Mother of our Divine Lord, as we conclude this novena for the special favor we seek at this time. (mention your request) We feel animated with confidence that your prayers in our behalf will be graciously heard. O Mother of My Lord, through the love you bear to Jesus Christ and for the glory of His Name, hear our prayers and obtain our petitions.Saturday, February 11, 2012
Feast Day: Our Lady of Lourdes
(First apparition to St. Bernadette)
O Brilliant star of purity, Mary Immaculate, Our Lady of Lourdes, glorious assumption, triumphant in your coronation, show unto us the mercy of the Mother of God, Virgin Mary, Queen and Mother, be our comfort, hope, strength, and consolation. Amen.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Saint Bernadette, pray for us.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Comfort in Prayer
Prayer has been central to my life for a long time, but it was the routine of it that saved me and continues to. I'll reflect here on how it helped me. There is far more to say and share here than I ever could. The most important thing I can pass on is to pray, just pray. If you don't, just start with one Hail Mary a day ...and a prayer life will establish itself.
First a disclaimer. Nothing I write here suggests that I am closer to God than most, or doing things the 'right' way, or better than others. I'm simply sharing how I've moved through these past many months. No doubt, my prayer life will change again, hopefully grow to be more united and reflective of His Divine Will. I have some serious imperfections, some I see, some I don't ...but they are there. God has been gentle with me and reveals them to me slowly ...He knows my attention span and has great patience for this flawed daughter of His.
I talk to God all day, really. And that constant dialogue is praying without ceasing. He is never far from my thoughts. I will forget for a few minutes here and there, but over the years I've come to be in conversation with Him, or the Blessed Mother,or a saint all day, and throughout the night. Every day, morning, mid-day and night, I strive to offer formal prayers, but much of the time I'm just talking, begging for guidance and grace to see it His way. I pray for patience and gratitude constantly. I pray my rosary everyday. At first, I found that especially hard, I couldn't focus, stay with it. I still struggle, but I'm noticing more consistency with it now. I think there are people far more imbued in their faith than me. I consider myself a simpleton in many ways, so I need to be basic in my conversation with God. He is patient with me ...and I'm very glad about that. Years of praying and talking to God prepared me for living a life in prayer now ...in great sadness.
When we received the horrible phone call, I started screaming my prayers all the way home. And when I knelt with my daughter and her lifelessness I prayed and chose in that moment to trust God with everything. I begged Him to hold her until I could see her again, and I begged Him not to let me lose my faith, lose my way. My faith has changed for sure, but it settles more closely with the beginning Church when the Blessed Mother walked among the apostles and they were all genuine, not competing. They were just trying to do what Christ asked of them. I'm not claiming I am at all like the apostles. I'm far from that, probably holding them back ...an annoyance. But it's where I'm most certain to find God because it keeps the confusion at bay ...and confusion doesn't come from God.
Unending prayers of so many people have buoyed us, kept us going. I know how hard people have prayed for us. The Masses offered for Phoebe have been a tremendous comfort. Masses offered for me and my family are treasured. We couldn't live without them, and we pray in thanks for that everyday. We cannot know the true value of prayer in this lifetime, but as Catholics we trust our prayers are heard and answered in the way God knows best for us. Graces come our way through prayer, our own, others for us and even those souls gone before us are petitioning for us ...storming Heaven so to speak. Praying for our deceased is serious obligation we have, and as we model that to our own children and others, we can be assured of prayers for our own souls when we die, when we can no longer pray for ourselves.
My mantra of prayer in the early days, especially when night would hint its arrival, the time when Phoebe would typically walk through my door and drop her soccer bag and backpack and come bounding into my kitchen, was the Memorare. That was the darkest hour of each day for me and it would last from around four until about nine, when she would usually go to bed. I missed her so, so badly, and my body would reabsorb the shock of that over and over during that time frame. I waited for the thud of her bag, the younger kids running to her, screaming her name, jumping at her, welcoming her home. That ritual, so much a part of my everyday, yet taken for granted, would never be again. I prayed my way through dinner knowing the normalcy of that for all of us was important, and the kids needed to have that regular anchor, gathering time in their day. I still miss Phoebe, but those hours are not so painful now. New routines and schedules have taken over those hours ...good things that are a testament to living fully, embracing a new way. I must have said that prayer 100 to 500 times a night back then. I was constantly saying it over and over as the despair would descend and hover for so long. Finally, when it would lift, after dinner was served, the kitchen closed for the night, prayers said and the little one's tucked in, finally the desperation would unwrap and I could measure other thoughts and feelings entering my mind and heart. It was such a desperate time for me, at sea, unbalanced as the rhythm I was so accustomed to with her comings and goings, was pulled out from me ...no transition, just gone. I think I could have died, really, from the piercing heaviness of that pain ...so unspeakable. I begged and begged the Blessed Mother to come to me ....and she did.
I am closest to Phoebe at Mass. I believe that. So praying the Mass always brings me comfort. And though I prefer the Traditional Latin Mass, I've come to thank God for any Mass, no matter how imperfect. I want my kids to stay close to God ...and they do, but as you might imagine, they've had some big questions that simply can't be answered by reciting doctrine. They are living out their questions and God is answering them in His own special way with each of them. And reflecting on the doctrine is an important part too. So much discussion can be lost in memory, but doctrine can always be found again and helps us re-root ourselves in the Truth when we might straggle away. For right now, it's good, we're on a good path. There's lots of baloney in these parts, but I've learned to avoid the distraction and stay focused like the apostles must have. An authentic Catholic strives to be authentic at all times, regardless of the place or the people around them. I'm striving to be authentic, and failing miserably along the way, but trying over and over ....that's how generous God is. He offers us a million chances in a day to reach for Him ...and re-reach when we've stumbled.
We've had some hard conversations about faith ...but very, very good ones, that have taken us beyond the words of the teachings to really striving to live them ...which I figured we were already doing a pretty good job at. But kids ask and point out some critical and valuable things, and ask simple, but incredibly hard questions ...and I believe children are very close to God ...so I listen to them as best I can. My kids have taught me quite a bit about my faith ...when I thought I was teaching them. God is good ...and amazingly generous. In all ages, the simplicity of the younger ones, their desire to please and serve reminds me that I was created to know, love and serve God in this world, so that I might be with Him forever in the next. It really is a simple teaching, but profound, enormous in its meaning, and even more so in the living out of it. And the older ones, asking harder questions, challenging and pushing, force me again to claim and live my faith with more urgency and passion. They get to see that the Truth does not change ...will not ever change because it comes from the Creator. Culture cannot re-fashion Truth to fit and be more palatable. My kids are figuring all that out, right along with me.
My most important prayer has been for Phoebe. I hope and trust in God's mercy. There is nothing like realizing the separateness of you from your child when you know your child has had their accounting with God. Phoebe had to stand before and with God and answer for her life, and sadly, her death. She received her judgement, like we all will. I couldn't be there for that, to advocate for her. I'm trusting that the Blessed Mother stood with her. I've prayed many days for the the Blessed Mother to step in for me where I fail, and I know prayers are timeless, transcend all time. I remain Phoebe's mother, and my most important mothering for her is now. I can give her no earthly thing, no guidance, no example, no hug. The only thing I have for her are my prayers, my pleading her case before her Creator. I trust His wisdom, His unending mercy and justice. I trust Phoebe with Him ...and that might sound simplistic as in "well, of course, He is God." But when you sit where I do, it isn't that simple ...I've wrestled with this ...I don't necessarily feel it, but I choose it ...to believe Phoebe is safe with God. But we must always, always pray without ceasing for each other, and most especially those who've died. We need to get each other to Heaven, and the Church teaches that most of us don't just go straight up, as is the popular thought today. Our own personal perfection must be attained and that's why we have the great gift of Purgatory, which grants us the grace to know we will one day be in full union with God. But if we reject God and His ways, even at our very end ...we reject Heaven and will find ourselves in the pits of Hell forever. That's become "off limits" conversation, but like it or not, Hell is a real place and some of us will get ourselves there. Do I worry about Phoebe's soul? Of course. Am I confident in God's love and mercy? Yes, I am. It's a peculiar mix really ...to be both worried and confident. I guess my real point is that we can never take for granted that someone just makes it to Heaven, even though that's the popular sentiment ...its just not true, though I wish it were.
I have Masses offered for Phoebe regularly, and I pray for her all the time. She is absent from me and I picture the prayers as the bridge that will one day lead me to her. I miss my floppy bun girl, with her moon face and her big, blue eyes. I miss her bounce in my house and her energy that ricocheted off my walls. I can turn my missing into a prayer too, offering that up as a means for her soul.
I pray for our friends who've been there along the way, expecting nothing from us ...which is good, since for a long time we had nothing to give, and even now we are using most of our energy to stay afloat. Friendship that is real doesn't expect, or keep lists or logs ...it just is. We have our turns at times of need ...and we are just living our lives together the best we can. Some friends call me everyday, some I'll bump into on occasion, some I haven't heard from in over a year, but I know they are there, praying, loving us from their own busy lives that seek to serve God. I think of one friend in particular, far away, a full house, spanning the ages ...active, dynamic, robust in living a life in Christ. She adored Phoebe, so appreciated her spunk, while also recognizing the challenge of that and both the tremendous potential and vulnerability it carried. And Phoebe loved her too, and her daughters. I know if Phoebe can find a way, she'll leave this friend a pair of indoor soccer shoes just to let her know she's around. She's had another baby, while my daughter has died. The absence from each other, the inability to be physically present doesn't diminish our caring for each other. That's what real Christian love is, it expands beyond the parameters of time and space. So it's a wide range of friends that knit our lives together, but the common bond is that we don't have unreasonable expectations of each other, particularly at certain times of each others lives. We let each other be, offering guidance, encouragement and sometimes only silent prayers.
I pray for my children, my incredible, bright, resilient children with all sorts of personalities. I pray they live their faith throughout their lives. And I pray, if they don't that we've given them enough of a solid foundation to find their way back. I pray in gratitude for them. They never leave my mind and heart, at no point was it only about Phoebe. I might have been imperfect, but I was aware of where everyone was and how they were cared for. I write about Phoebe here, it's my time too, but all day we are in full swing and it is life in the fast lane most days. These kids of mine are a great source of comfort to me ...and my living has to be about their living ...and it is.
And of course I pray for my husband.
I thank God for letting me have Phoebe for the time I did. My girl born blue was granted seventeen plus years ...and she lived, really, really lived them. My life could be offered purely in Thanksgiving for that gift.
I try my hardest to make all my prayer about thanking God. That's not so easy, but eventually, I get there thanking him for even those annoying or harsh things life brings along. Despite this great tragedy and missing, I am extraordinarily blessed with so many things. Forgetting to be thankful always leads to a dark place.
I would not be here today if it were not for my faith and the promise it carries of eternal life.. Why would I be? I would have followed Phoebe into the ground had I not believed in God and in all the Catholic Church teaches. Because I do have and do live my faith ...I am following her, in a much better way, the way God wants me to.
Pray always, make everything in life a prayer, see all things as a gift ...all things, when looked at through the lens of faith, lead us to Him.
First a disclaimer. Nothing I write here suggests that I am closer to God than most, or doing things the 'right' way, or better than others. I'm simply sharing how I've moved through these past many months. No doubt, my prayer life will change again, hopefully grow to be more united and reflective of His Divine Will. I have some serious imperfections, some I see, some I don't ...but they are there. God has been gentle with me and reveals them to me slowly ...He knows my attention span and has great patience for this flawed daughter of His.
I talk to God all day, really. And that constant dialogue is praying without ceasing. He is never far from my thoughts. I will forget for a few minutes here and there, but over the years I've come to be in conversation with Him, or the Blessed Mother,or a saint all day, and throughout the night. Every day, morning, mid-day and night, I strive to offer formal prayers, but much of the time I'm just talking, begging for guidance and grace to see it His way. I pray for patience and gratitude constantly. I pray my rosary everyday. At first, I found that especially hard, I couldn't focus, stay with it. I still struggle, but I'm noticing more consistency with it now. I think there are people far more imbued in their faith than me. I consider myself a simpleton in many ways, so I need to be basic in my conversation with God. He is patient with me ...and I'm very glad about that. Years of praying and talking to God prepared me for living a life in prayer now ...in great sadness.
When we received the horrible phone call, I started screaming my prayers all the way home. And when I knelt with my daughter and her lifelessness I prayed and chose in that moment to trust God with everything. I begged Him to hold her until I could see her again, and I begged Him not to let me lose my faith, lose my way. My faith has changed for sure, but it settles more closely with the beginning Church when the Blessed Mother walked among the apostles and they were all genuine, not competing. They were just trying to do what Christ asked of them. I'm not claiming I am at all like the apostles. I'm far from that, probably holding them back ...an annoyance. But it's where I'm most certain to find God because it keeps the confusion at bay ...and confusion doesn't come from God.
Unending prayers of so many people have buoyed us, kept us going. I know how hard people have prayed for us. The Masses offered for Phoebe have been a tremendous comfort. Masses offered for me and my family are treasured. We couldn't live without them, and we pray in thanks for that everyday. We cannot know the true value of prayer in this lifetime, but as Catholics we trust our prayers are heard and answered in the way God knows best for us. Graces come our way through prayer, our own, others for us and even those souls gone before us are petitioning for us ...storming Heaven so to speak. Praying for our deceased is serious obligation we have, and as we model that to our own children and others, we can be assured of prayers for our own souls when we die, when we can no longer pray for ourselves.
My mantra of prayer in the early days, especially when night would hint its arrival, the time when Phoebe would typically walk through my door and drop her soccer bag and backpack and come bounding into my kitchen, was the Memorare. That was the darkest hour of each day for me and it would last from around four until about nine, when she would usually go to bed. I missed her so, so badly, and my body would reabsorb the shock of that over and over during that time frame. I waited for the thud of her bag, the younger kids running to her, screaming her name, jumping at her, welcoming her home. That ritual, so much a part of my everyday, yet taken for granted, would never be again. I prayed my way through dinner knowing the normalcy of that for all of us was important, and the kids needed to have that regular anchor, gathering time in their day. I still miss Phoebe, but those hours are not so painful now. New routines and schedules have taken over those hours ...good things that are a testament to living fully, embracing a new way. I must have said that prayer 100 to 500 times a night back then. I was constantly saying it over and over as the despair would descend and hover for so long. Finally, when it would lift, after dinner was served, the kitchen closed for the night, prayers said and the little one's tucked in, finally the desperation would unwrap and I could measure other thoughts and feelings entering my mind and heart. It was such a desperate time for me, at sea, unbalanced as the rhythm I was so accustomed to with her comings and goings, was pulled out from me ...no transition, just gone. I think I could have died, really, from the piercing heaviness of that pain ...so unspeakable. I begged and begged the Blessed Mother to come to me ....and she did.
I am closest to Phoebe at Mass. I believe that. So praying the Mass always brings me comfort. And though I prefer the Traditional Latin Mass, I've come to thank God for any Mass, no matter how imperfect. I want my kids to stay close to God ...and they do, but as you might imagine, they've had some big questions that simply can't be answered by reciting doctrine. They are living out their questions and God is answering them in His own special way with each of them. And reflecting on the doctrine is an important part too. So much discussion can be lost in memory, but doctrine can always be found again and helps us re-root ourselves in the Truth when we might straggle away. For right now, it's good, we're on a good path. There's lots of baloney in these parts, but I've learned to avoid the distraction and stay focused like the apostles must have. An authentic Catholic strives to be authentic at all times, regardless of the place or the people around them. I'm striving to be authentic, and failing miserably along the way, but trying over and over ....that's how generous God is. He offers us a million chances in a day to reach for Him ...and re-reach when we've stumbled.
We've had some hard conversations about faith ...but very, very good ones, that have taken us beyond the words of the teachings to really striving to live them ...which I figured we were already doing a pretty good job at. But kids ask and point out some critical and valuable things, and ask simple, but incredibly hard questions ...and I believe children are very close to God ...so I listen to them as best I can. My kids have taught me quite a bit about my faith ...when I thought I was teaching them. God is good ...and amazingly generous. In all ages, the simplicity of the younger ones, their desire to please and serve reminds me that I was created to know, love and serve God in this world, so that I might be with Him forever in the next. It really is a simple teaching, but profound, enormous in its meaning, and even more so in the living out of it. And the older ones, asking harder questions, challenging and pushing, force me again to claim and live my faith with more urgency and passion. They get to see that the Truth does not change ...will not ever change because it comes from the Creator. Culture cannot re-fashion Truth to fit and be more palatable. My kids are figuring all that out, right along with me.
My most important prayer has been for Phoebe. I hope and trust in God's mercy. There is nothing like realizing the separateness of you from your child when you know your child has had their accounting with God. Phoebe had to stand before and with God and answer for her life, and sadly, her death. She received her judgement, like we all will. I couldn't be there for that, to advocate for her. I'm trusting that the Blessed Mother stood with her. I've prayed many days for the the Blessed Mother to step in for me where I fail, and I know prayers are timeless, transcend all time. I remain Phoebe's mother, and my most important mothering for her is now. I can give her no earthly thing, no guidance, no example, no hug. The only thing I have for her are my prayers, my pleading her case before her Creator. I trust His wisdom, His unending mercy and justice. I trust Phoebe with Him ...and that might sound simplistic as in "well, of course, He is God." But when you sit where I do, it isn't that simple ...I've wrestled with this ...I don't necessarily feel it, but I choose it ...to believe Phoebe is safe with God. But we must always, always pray without ceasing for each other, and most especially those who've died. We need to get each other to Heaven, and the Church teaches that most of us don't just go straight up, as is the popular thought today. Our own personal perfection must be attained and that's why we have the great gift of Purgatory, which grants us the grace to know we will one day be in full union with God. But if we reject God and His ways, even at our very end ...we reject Heaven and will find ourselves in the pits of Hell forever. That's become "off limits" conversation, but like it or not, Hell is a real place and some of us will get ourselves there. Do I worry about Phoebe's soul? Of course. Am I confident in God's love and mercy? Yes, I am. It's a peculiar mix really ...to be both worried and confident. I guess my real point is that we can never take for granted that someone just makes it to Heaven, even though that's the popular sentiment ...its just not true, though I wish it were.
I have Masses offered for Phoebe regularly, and I pray for her all the time. She is absent from me and I picture the prayers as the bridge that will one day lead me to her. I miss my floppy bun girl, with her moon face and her big, blue eyes. I miss her bounce in my house and her energy that ricocheted off my walls. I can turn my missing into a prayer too, offering that up as a means for her soul.
I pray for our friends who've been there along the way, expecting nothing from us ...which is good, since for a long time we had nothing to give, and even now we are using most of our energy to stay afloat. Friendship that is real doesn't expect, or keep lists or logs ...it just is. We have our turns at times of need ...and we are just living our lives together the best we can. Some friends call me everyday, some I'll bump into on occasion, some I haven't heard from in over a year, but I know they are there, praying, loving us from their own busy lives that seek to serve God. I think of one friend in particular, far away, a full house, spanning the ages ...active, dynamic, robust in living a life in Christ. She adored Phoebe, so appreciated her spunk, while also recognizing the challenge of that and both the tremendous potential and vulnerability it carried. And Phoebe loved her too, and her daughters. I know if Phoebe can find a way, she'll leave this friend a pair of indoor soccer shoes just to let her know she's around. She's had another baby, while my daughter has died. The absence from each other, the inability to be physically present doesn't diminish our caring for each other. That's what real Christian love is, it expands beyond the parameters of time and space. So it's a wide range of friends that knit our lives together, but the common bond is that we don't have unreasonable expectations of each other, particularly at certain times of each others lives. We let each other be, offering guidance, encouragement and sometimes only silent prayers.
I pray for my children, my incredible, bright, resilient children with all sorts of personalities. I pray they live their faith throughout their lives. And I pray, if they don't that we've given them enough of a solid foundation to find their way back. I pray in gratitude for them. They never leave my mind and heart, at no point was it only about Phoebe. I might have been imperfect, but I was aware of where everyone was and how they were cared for. I write about Phoebe here, it's my time too, but all day we are in full swing and it is life in the fast lane most days. These kids of mine are a great source of comfort to me ...and my living has to be about their living ...and it is.
And of course I pray for my husband.
I thank God for letting me have Phoebe for the time I did. My girl born blue was granted seventeen plus years ...and she lived, really, really lived them. My life could be offered purely in Thanksgiving for that gift.
I try my hardest to make all my prayer about thanking God. That's not so easy, but eventually, I get there thanking him for even those annoying or harsh things life brings along. Despite this great tragedy and missing, I am extraordinarily blessed with so many things. Forgetting to be thankful always leads to a dark place.
I would not be here today if it were not for my faith and the promise it carries of eternal life.. Why would I be? I would have followed Phoebe into the ground had I not believed in God and in all the Catholic Church teaches. Because I do have and do live my faith ...I am following her, in a much better way, the way God wants me to.
Pray always, make everything in life a prayer, see all things as a gift ...all things, when looked at through the lens of faith, lead us to Him.
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