Survival Guide

  I'll do my final public posting here over the next few entries.  It's been a really wonderful, beneficial experience to have this place to write and share, and many people have let me know they've enjoyed reading and some have even  been helped by the words found in these posts.  Also, I've been offered some wonderful support, guidance, insight and comfort along the way.  People, by nature, are incredibly generous and giving of themselves.  The outpouring we received when Phoebe died was enormous, and has continued in lots of ways.  The prayers are constant ...and they work.  We aren't out of the woods, so to speak, but we're moving along and doing pretty well, I'd say.  I'll continue writing, just not making it so public.  But I will continue writing, and am happy to share the next phase of my climb out of the rubble.  Just send me your email and I'll send it along as I write. carolynwalshpiw@gmail.com
Grief has a life of its own, a long life I'm learning.  And I'm an open person, seeing the value in sharing the human experience ...even one so tragic. This has been my 'safe' place to put my words down, read them myself and understand my own days, take in the scenery along the way.  Moving through, getting time behind us, builds strength and discernment. I have a fair amount of time behind me for the early part of losing a child.  They tell us that the 'early' phase includes the first two years.  I had always thought it was just the first year, and it is for most, but not when you lose a child.  I get that now.  Year two is different for sure, less hard in lots of ways, but still harder in others.  Year two brings a clearer vision, you start to make decisions, figure out a little bit about what direction you're headed.  And you can look back and see things with far greater clarity than you could during your days of stupor and disbelief.  I clung to life, literally, for the first year.  I don't have to hang on so tightly now, but I see the precarious nature of each moment with greater detail than I would if I hadn't lost Phoebe.
Someday, and I pray not, you might be at the beginning of  this journey, or you might know someone else who is, and that's been my purpose here ...not so much to have people follow me, but to see how I survived, am surviving, this nightmare which never goes away.  I've been open and honest here.  I've left out lots of parts of my life ...because its not mine to tell.  How I've cared for my kids ...each one, isn't told here. With God's amazing grace they are all well ...happy even, though certainly pierced in moments when they realize Phoebe just isn't coming through that front door, or up the stairs.  They need to live their own adventures, push their own limits and embrace life for themselves.  My husband's walk is hinted at on occasion, but he has his own journey and missing.  And that's been one of the harder parts for me, to watch my husband miss his Phoebe ....his great, adventurous daughter ...his girl.

This blog has been about my walk.  Fifteen months of the hardest walk I've ever taken, and probably ever will.  There were things I did that most certainly helped me, some things I wished I'd done early on, but didn't have the vision to see or understand how I could have avoided further pain, more sorrow.  So, I"ll reflect on that here, a final guide, look on the steps I took.  Lots and lots of people survive losing a child, and I don't claim my way is the way ....everyone has their own, but I certainly learned from others tips that helped me stay upright, and I found a few of my own too.  But keep in mind that I needed, and still do, to survive and thrive even, in a busy house with a bunch of kids who still very much need a mom engaged in just about everything they do.  I knew that, and knew it made my walk a bit different from others I'd met because their kids were mostly grown.  In some ways that made my walk far, far easier because I had the distraction.  In other ways it made it harder since often I've had to ignore the wave of emotions and get on with the business of the day ...which can delay some of what really needs to come out. And of course, there are things I wish I'd done.  There's lots and lots of looking back and wishing, final moments I sometimes think would have changed the outcome, would have kept Phoebe alive.  But the real answer is that no one will ever know, there are no answers ...only with God.  As I get closer and closer to that place I find it a harbor, a haven which ultimately turns into hoping ....and then trusting. 

So  the entries to follow will  share some of what kept me going ...kept me alive ...my survival guide, with tattered pages, crossouts, re-writes, stains ...and always, always, gratitude for the gift of life, the gift of my own, my husbands, my childrens ...but most especially, the gift of having been Phoebe's mom ...for her life. And the ever steady presence of God  ...and the promise of being with Him one day ...and my girl, once again.  I trust in Him.
So I offer you these humble words from a mom who is just ordinary, but like so many who've lost a child,  striving to do her best and failing along the way, but beginning over and over again to serve God and show my great love for Him even with my broken heart.  We can survive, smile again, laugh, make plans, find joy in the everyday and look forward to a day once again with our beloved child. 

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace. Amen.