Advent 2019

Nine years ago I began the Advent season desperate and desolate.  All I wanted was for Phoebe to be alive and home. I was waiting for the door to swing open and those familiar steps ups the stairs.   I was still wrapping my head around the reality of her death,  praying I would wake up from the nightmare.  Those weren't easy days and I'm not sure I had anything to do with making it through;  I think it was God's amazing grace that allowed angels to carry me forward towards Bethlehem.
I'd decided the only way I could survive would be to offer Phoebe to the infant Jesus on Christmas Day!  I had to know she had a place with Him.  My conviction was fueled by an overwhelming scent of pine that permeated the first few days following her death ...my mind and heart traveled immediately to the manger and I took little threads of comfort believing Phoebe was there.
A few years before, when she was about 12, we had met with a young priest of a primitive order who spoke to Phoebe about Bethlehem.  I just watched as she took in his words that evoked a whole sense of being present in that place when Christ was born.  I had to think that conversation was meant, in some small or very grand way, to invite Phoebe into the first moments of Christ's life on earth, while also offering me a consolation I would one day, years later, be reminded of.
That first Advent, I walked most days among the trails of Worlds End, a beautiful, peaceful reservation steps from our front door.  I envisioned following Blessed Mother on the donkey that carried her on the arduous journey to the mandated census.  My steps were unsteady but intent, and my heart followed her.  In our world it makes no sense, but in God's world ...the only one that truly matters, I could see her just ahead, leading me.  She knows the heart of a mother broken, and she tended to me so I could follow her.
And so here we are, the first day of Advent, my tenth first day of Advent since Phoebe's passing.
This day is far different than that first, and yet still, I seek comfort and consolation in finding Phoebe in Bethlehem.  My steps are steadier, my vision more focused and certain, my trust is deeper and even more abiding ...and I am that much closer to seeing Phoebe once again.  But I still need to reach Bethlehem ...I still need to freely give, with abundant joy, my precious girl to the infant Jesus.  It is still hard and I don't expect that to ever change.  But life here is often hard, thorns among the roses. 
And I'll bring with me prayers for all those parents who've lost children, finding themselves lost amidst the pain ...the agony of life without their precious child. 
Walk with me Phoebe ...towards the manger ...to our Savior!

Welcome!

Welcome!
I'm glad you found this space, but sorry for the reason why ....
If you're new to this place ...these are my raw words after losing Phoebe.  I needed some way to pour out my heart so I could make sense of my new world ...a horrible place!  But I didn't stay there forever, as I thought I would.
I got to a new place, as will you, and started "Finding Phoebe in the Ordinary Day".  It captures more of how the physical loss of her was 'accommodated' in my every day, and how present she is with me.
I live my life by faith, so that is my anchor every step of the way.  I share that here in my words, and I can tell you that it has saved me.
It might make sense to go back to the beginning, the earliest days of loss.  And then move forward from there.  Or bounce all over and just trust you'll read something that may help! 
Comment or send me an email, if you like.
Big Hugs!

New Blog

I miss my girl ...a lot!  She is part of my everyday, and I hope to catch a glimpse of her now and then.  This blog is about losing Phoebe, struggling to come out from the rubble, find balance, and breath.  I'm writing again, and now I'm sharing about finding her ...everyday in the smallest of corners, but sometimes very clearly.  Join me over at Finding Phoebe in the Ordinary Day as I learn a new way of mothering, a new way of being. 
Thanks for stopping by!

A Welcoming Goodbye

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.

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

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.

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