Jacob and Raleigh's Mom

Stay or Move?

2009-12-02T00:31:00.009-05:00

After experiencing intense grief, there often develops painful associations with the places and things that remind us of our loss.

The hospital we once drove by without a moment's thought is now avoided because it holds the memory of the death or illness of a loved one. The office where we once worked now only serves as a reminder of being fired or laid-off. A favorite restaurant where we dined with a spouse or partner triggers a panic attack after the relationship ends or a spouse dies.

The list goes on and on.

After my 18-year-old son died, it became almost unbearable for me to go to church--despite a deep love for God and an ever-increasing faith. Every Sunday, we sat together as a family in the same general area--the front, left section of the congregation.

We tried sitting in a different place, but I found myself staring at the area where we used to sit with an overwhelming sadness inside. We tried attending the 11:00 a.m. service held in the main sanctuary but realized, as soon as the music began, it wouldn't work either. That was where Jacob's memorial service had taken place.

Tremendous pain was associated with what was once a joyful place. I didn't want to be there anymore. I wanted to be in church, but not the old, familiar buildings and rooms.

Two years after Jacob's death, my husband and I decided to attend a new church. In the end, the pain won out.

For my husband, our renovated 1950's brick ranch, located a short bike ride from the beach, became a place of painful association. Years of memories--celebrating holiday dinners, decorating for Christmas, planting bushes that were Mother's Day presents, tossing tennis balls for our golden retriever--turned the house and yard he once loved into harbingers of pain.

He wanted to move, frequently saying, "The same old life without Jacob in it isn't going to work. I need change!"

I couldn't leave.

I loved going into Jacob's bedroom to look at his beloved collection of model sports cars, page through his Bible or touch his clothes left hanging in his closet and tucked neatly into his dresser drawers. I would even lie down on his bed and cry out to God, asking "Why?" Time and time again, God comforted me there. It was my refuge and that was reason enough to stay.

My husband let up briefly when our daughter also put up a fight about moving. He also sank deeper into depression, rarely smiling or interacting with us. When he came home from work, he'd go to the couch, turn on the television and stare blankly at the screen.

I knew we were in trouble.

He asked Raleigh and me to consider other major decisions he had made for our family, pointing out that they had served our family well in the past. He hoped we would reconsider, based on his record, and trust him on this one.

The next time my husband was out of town, Raleigh and I had a long discussion about the health of our family. Together, we came to the conclusion that having a husband and father who was at peace was more important than having a house the held precious memories. Life had already changed so much. Losing the house we loved was nothing compared to the thought of losing the man we so dearly loved.

Two-and-a-half years after Jacob died, we moved. In the end, the pain won out. Again.

But that's not the whole story.

Although I fell to my knees crying in Jacob's room the day we moved, I was astounded by the peace and joy I felt in our new home.

The real test, however, was our daughter. The kicking and screaming she promised she'd do if we ever moved never happened. Instead, she confessed to also having peace with the move. She still missed our house, but no longer hated the new one. I discovered I was able to create a new place for my life and that our old house, without Jacob in it, just didn't work anymore.

My husband's wisdom served our family well.

Running from pain is not healthy, but refusing to inflict unnecessary pain upon ourselves is--even if it means choosing a different route, restaurant or residence. Personal experience and observation have shown me it's good to create boundaries which may limit the pain of grief. Building walls to block out pain only slows our progress in healing.

We each make choices whether to stay where we are or move to a new place in the aftermath of grief. Those choices might involve compromise. And they require time.

Lots of time.

Having A "Jacob's Limp"

2009-01-21T19:58:00.004-05:00

When I am looking for advice or counsel on some matter, I go to a person or people who have experience regarding that matter. If I have questions about my computer, I ask someone who is computer savvy, not my mother, who still doesn't have internet access in her home. But if I have a question about cooking or mothering, I call my mother, not my computer savvy friend. You get the point. It's not any lack of respect for either my mother or my friend. They each have experience that lends itself to specific areas, and it only makes sense to go to the one who has the experience.

A few weeks after Jacob died, I received a letter from a cousin. For years, I had admired this cousin for his deep faith that had remained strong through good times and bad. His letter contained an interesting perspective that I'd like to share with you.

My cousin wrote that as he was driving in his truck, he was listening to a Christian radio station. A woman was speaking. She mentioned that whenever she needed advice regarding matters of faith, she would only seek out those who had what she referred to as a "Jacob's limp." She went on to explain the story of the Old Testatment patriarch, Jacob. Jacob's life was very blessed, but he also faced many struggles. In fact, one night Jacob wrestled with "a man" all night until Jacob's hip was wrenched by the man, leaving him with a constant limp. That "man" was God. In the morning, God blessed Jacob saying, "Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and HAVE OVERCOME." Jacob's limp served as a reminder not only of his struggles, but of his blessings and his strength to overcome.

The fact that this woman's reference included Jacob's name was enough to catch my attention, but to grasp what she meant by it made the reference all the more special. This speaker was saying that she didn't trust the counsel of anyone who had basically just sailed through life with little disturbance or difficulty. She wanted someone who had faced a few major storms and lived to tell about it and praised God in the end. The ones who had survived had wisdom that those who had never been tested could ever hope to have.

My cousin went on to say that I had developed a "Jacob's limp." He knew that the counsel of one who had struggled with the death of a child was worth much, if in the end she was able to overcome and continue to glorify God. I was so deeply honored by my cousin's words. No vanity or ego was wrapped up in that honor whatsoever. In fact, I was humbled tremendously that he saw me as an overcomer and God being glorified as well. May God receive ALL the glory and honor for His goodness and grace that is beyond measure!

The Hope That Lies Ahead

2009-01-20T22:53:00.005-05:00

Today we saw a new president take the oath of office. With each new administration there is a sense of hope and expectation for what the future will hold, and this one is certainly no different. In fact, given the state of our country's economic condition and reputation in the world, there is an even greater hope that the future will be brighter. Most likely it will be, but there are no guarantees when it comes to our economy. We can only hope, pray, and see how the future unfolds.

For a person who has lost a child, the hope and expectation for what the future will hold is shattered. Nothing looks bright, and any sense of future is lost or meaningless--at least for a time. Then, as the weeks, months or even years pass, little glimmers of hope begin to appear on the horizon. We begin to see that it is possible to have joy again, especially in the little things such as hearing a beautiful song bird or watching a butterfly land on a flower and display its beauty as it gently moves its wings.

As the ability to see the present with a heart of joy returns, our ability to see the future with hope and expectation also begins to grow. In fact, we might discover a new found hobby or past time that helps us to look forward with anticipation to what lies ahead for us. But there is no greater hope or expectation than that which Heaven offers. You see, for those of us who believe in eternal life and know Heaven to be our true home, this here and now is only a shadow of all that awaits us. The most beautiful sunrise here will be outdone a hundredfold in Heaven. The finest wines and foods enjoyed on this earth will seem like items picked up at the local mini-mart once we have tasted what is in Heaven. The pieces of music that stir our souls here on earth will bring us joy in Heaven, but they will pale in comparison to the sounds that will wrap around us as we move about the Kingdom of Heaven.

Yes, Mr. President, I look forward to the next few years with hope and anticipation, but even if you accomplish everything I hope you and your administration will accomplish, it will only satisfy to a point. My true hope and expectation lie in God alone and the Kingdom of Heaven in which I will live. There, I will be all that I was meant to be. There I will be with Him. There I will be reunited with the ones I have loved and lost here on earth. There I will be with my son, and we will laugh together and hug one another just as we always did, but it will be even better.

The Nearness of God

2009-01-16T18:57:00.002-05:00

I will always remember how sick I felt the first time someone suggested that through Jacob's death I would gain. Gain what? They meant I'd gain valuable things like insight, compassion, wisdom, etc. As far as I was concerned, I far preferred to remain blind, mean and ignorant but still have my son. I'd give up every positive "gain" in order to have Jacob back again. That's not my option, however. I have to live with what has happened.

From the moment I learned the car accident had left Jacob dead and his friend hanging on to life, I knew I had a choice as to how I would live my life going forward. As I already stated, in those first days, I was not the least bit interested in what I could possibly gain from Jacob's death. At the same time, I kept saying to myself and others, "I don't want Jacob's death to be in vain." By refusing to let myself "gain" and be transformed through Jacob's death, I was the one who was guilty of allowing his death to be in vain. My stubborn refusal to let beauty arise from ashes was also disregarding or showing a lack of respect for the victorious and miraculous battle Jacob's friend was fighting to stay alive and then to rehabilitate. It was almost as though I could hear Jacob's voice saying, "Mom, if you don't allow my death and Matt's brave struggle bring forth positive attitudes and changes, then my death as well as Matt's hard work HAVE been in vain." They were not only going to be in vain, but they were going to be the breeding ground of destruction and pain. How could I possibly do that to my son? How could I do that to his wonderful and amazing friend?

Knowing that my greatest comfort came as I read Scripture and prayed, I began to press into my relationship with God all the more. I leaned on Him more than any other time in my life. He would speak to my spirit, especially when I felt fearful about Jacob's final moments and his experience of entering Heaven. Jacob's eternal life in Heaven was not in question, but whether or not he was lonely or frightened during those moments of transition from his earthly body nagged at my heart and mind. During those times, I could hear God's voice reminding me, "I was with him, and he is here with Me now."

God even allowed me a vision only ten days after the accident. I was suspended above Jacob's car and I could see him in the vehicle. It was dark and raining, but I could still see things clearly. A huge, black hand wrapped its fingers around Jacob's torso and pulled him out of the car. Jacob was unconscious and slumped forward, so he didn't struggle or show any fear. A loud voice could be heard, and it said, "I'm going to tear this family apart!" At that moment I saw a figure come from the right and I instantly "knew" who it was. Jesus gently took Jacob's right arm with both hands and firmly stated, "Let him go! This one is Mine!" The hand released Jacob immediately, and Jacob's head lifted as though he was now alert, but still somewhat groggy. He said nothing. Jesus then left with Jacob. Four months later, when we visited the accident site for the first time, the location matched my vision, even the positioning of the vehicle was the same.

My nearness to God was unlike anything I had ever known during those first months. Rather than stopping to pray periodically, it was as if I was in a constant dialogue with God. For the most part, that has remained, but I don't talk or hear Him as much. There is more silence, but not in a bad way. The sense of "scales falling from my eyes" was what I experienced. I was seeing things as I had never seen them before. Even when I closed my eyes, vivid colors would swirl around. Things I had never noticed before caught my attention. My hearing was altered. I could not physically hear any better, but I heard things I never heard before. On more than one occasion, I heard Jacob's voice. Once, he even said, "Hey, Mom!" which is the way he would greet me. This all may sound terribly strange and scary, but I never felt more alive and "in tune" than ever before. Nearly a year after Jacob's death, I literally heard a male voice speak a phrase while my husband was out running and my daughter was sleeping. The phrase made no sense, but I shared it with friends and family anyway. By that afternoon, the phrase made perfect sense because of the way the day's events unfolded. Many of us were in awe of how a group of words that made no sense, suddenly had full meaning.

The nearness of God was so intense that I was reminded several times of the story in Scripture of Moses going up on Mount Sinai where he stood in the presence of God. When he returned to the people below, he had to veil his face because his face was so radiant after that encounter. Each time Moses entered the Lord's presence and then spoke to the people, his face was radiant from having been in the presence of the Lord. In the weeks and months following Jacob's death, there were a number of occasions when people, even complete strangers, told me that I was "glowing." One time, two men working at a desk in an office building in Atlanta jumped when they saw me walk in. I wondered why they had such a reaction. The first one said, "This may sound strange, but you are glowing! I mean you are really glowing." The other guy said with his eyes wide open, "It's true! You are!" If they only knew I had lost my son months earlier. The only explanation for me glowing was the nearness of God's presence in my life to help me survive.

God is always near, even when we don't believe He exists. When we are grieving, He draws nearer still. If we invite Him in with hungry hearts, He is like skin on skin. It will be known, not only to us, but to those around us. Allow God, no INVITE God to draw near to you. He will. And your face will show the evidence, even in your most desperate hour.

How Do You Survive The Loss Of A Child?

2009-01-05T11:59:00.005-05:00

A friend recently reminded me of something I used to say. "If anything ever happens to one of my kids, just lock me up and throw away the key, because I'll never be able to survive it." That is exactly how I felt right up to the day Jacob died. In fact, the day before, September 23, 2006, one of Jacob's classmates died of bone cancer. As we spoke of A.J. and his family after praying for them, I could not get my heart or mind around what the parents must have been going through. "How does a parent let go of their child? How does a mother let go of her son?" I asked aloud. Just thinking about it was painful and beyond my ability to comprehend.

When we arrived at the small, rural hospital at 2:30 in the morning and were told Jacob had not survived the accident, my world fell apart. I had a clear sense of God's voice comforting me on the flight to Athens, Georgia, the closest airport to the accident site. The comfort and reassurance was so great that I never cried. I continued to pray for Jacob, but I knew he was going to be fine. My focus turned to his friend who was in the car with him when the accident occurred. When the final word about Jacob's condition contradicted everything I felt God telling me, I felt betrayed, yet God was the only One I could turn to at that moment.

As the days and weeks passed, my mind went back and forth about God. He would go from being (in my mind) The Betrayer to The Comforter to The Liar to The Miracle Worker. Some days I'd have it out with God, shaking my fist and yelling, "How could you allow this to happen to my son?" Other days I'd say, "Thank you for being there for my son when he died and bringing him into Your presence in Heaven." A particular passage from the Bible had a profound effect on me. It says, "The righteous perish, and no one ponders (cherishes) it in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil." Isaiah 57:1 Jacob will never have to endure the evil of this world again.

No matter the state of my mind, heart or soul, God was always with me. Each time I kicked and screamed like a child at God, my outburst would end with an overwhelming comfort, as though God had placed me in His lap and pulled my head to his chest and rocked me. I felt an inner peace. At those moments and many other times throughout this journey since Jacob's death, I have wondered how people who do not believe in God survive such a tragedy. Then I realized that God does not ONLY comfort those who believe in Him. He even comforts those who curse Him and deny Him. Blessings are given to the trustworthy and upright as well as the scoundrels who prey on innocent people. God loves ALL of His children, even if they don't love Him. He never forces Himself upon anyone, for he is the ultimate of gentlemen, but He will always bring His presence and His comfort when it is needed. We simply need to be willing to receive it, even if we have no idea who brings us this peace, strength and comfort.

The sad thing (in my opinion) is that those who don't believe in God or recognize that it is Him who is comforting them have no idea how to find that comfort when it doesn't seem so apparent. When they are falling apart on the floor in a puddle of tears, who/what do they cry out to? Other people I guess, and hopefully someone who is reaching out a hand to offer help is reflecting the love of God and being an ambassador of comfort for Him. As soon as I begin to feel myself slipping into the dark abyss of sadness and despair, I know whose name to call and where to place my eyes. My eyes are on Him, and I look up as He pulls me out. I can't imagine falling into despair and having no idea how to find the way out.

In no way do I consider myself better than another mother who has lost a child and does not seek God as her Comforter. I just know that my journey, while excruciating, will be a little bit easier. There's also a beautiful light called Heaven awaiting me at the end of the tunnel. That is where I will be with Jacob again, just as we were before, only better. Even now I am with Jacob, but it does not satisfy the way it did when we both existed in this earthly realm. Yet our time together, as fabulous as it was, was only a shadow of what is to come. What lies ahead far exceeds even my greatest of expectations. How I long for that day!!!! But until then, my life still has purpose. That purpose has changed in some ways that are hard to accept now that Jacob is gone, but the purpose is still worthwhile and I am the only one who can fulfill MY purpose on this earth.

So, I have strength to get through today. Because I know I am here for a unique and specific purpose that no one else can accomplish, I have reasons to continue living and making a difference in this world while God still gives me breath. I also have so much to look forward to when my days in this realm of life are done. Without those things, I would never be able to pull myself out of bed. Some may see my faith as a crutch, but I see it as my greatest strength.

Remembering the Birth of A Child

2009-01-01T21:24:00.000-05:00

The start of a new year brings thoughts of new beginnings, a fresh start. For a woman, the birth of a child is somewhat similar. Certainly it brings all kind of new beginnings, the most important being the beginning of a new life. The beginning of a new relationship is also right up there. While a woman begins to develop a relationship with her child long before the delivery, the birth brings an entirely new dimension to the relationship. The experience of looking into the face of your baby for the first time is more powerful than words can possibly describe.

The "fresh start" aspect of birth is the feeling a woman has when she can actually see her feet again after months of obstructed view, thanks to a swollen belly. Being able to wear something other than the well-worn maternity clothes is a fresh start. Even if it means going back to the pre-pregnancy clothes in the closet, it's a fresh start. Easy movement and breathing is restored shortly after birth. Those two things alone give a feeling of a fresh start.

Not every woman looks back on pregnancy and childbirth with joy. Their reasons are varied, but justified. I, however, am a woman who looks back on my pregnancies with tremendous joy and satisfaction. Both deliveries were relatively easy and never required pain medication of any sort, so my thoughts about giving birth to my babies is also very positive.

Each year on my children's birthdays (once they were old enough to understand), I would tell them the story of their births. At just the right moment, I would tell them, "This is when my contractions started." "This is when we left for the hopsital." For years, they heard the story of their births. After awhile, they'd begin to roll their eyes and moan as I would begin the annual narrative. It became a joke of sorts.

As Jacob's sixteenth birthday was approaching, I decided to spare him the story. He was getting older, and I had received the teasing for a couple of years by that point, so I figured it was probably time to stop torturing him with the details. They always started the night before his birthday because my labor began around 7pm on April 20th, 1988. He was born 5 1/2 hours later on April 21st. The evening before his 16th birthday, I announced that I wouldn't bore him with the story anymore. We all laughed, and a few comments like, "Thank goodness!" were heard. A lump formed in my throat because I would miss being able to share the story.

As I walked down the hallway to my bedroom later that evening, I heard Jacob's voice call for me. He was already in bed and the lights were off in his room. I poked my head in the door to be sure I had actually heard him. Sure enough, he was sitting up in his bed. "Is everything okay?" I asked. That's when he melted my heart. "Mom, could you tell me the story about my birth again?" Here he was, a 16 year-old young man wanting to know the story of his birth from his mother. "Oh I would love to!" was my response and I walked over to sit on the end of his bed. We hugged and gave each other a goodnight kiss when I was done. "Thanks, Mom." "My pleasure, Jacob."

When I walked out of his room that night, I cried. I cried to think that all those years of telling him the story had truly been a blessing to him. He could see how much excitement I had over his entrance into this world and our lives. He could hear the love I had for him, and it made him feel special and treasured. He knew his life was a blessing to me right from the very beginning, not a burden. Jacob didn't need to know about nausea, swollen ankles, etc. He needed to know that his life brought a glow to my face that I had never before displayed. He needed to know that I was crazy in love with him from the moment the doctor told me I was pregnant. He needed to know that I viewed him as a precious gift from God that was entrusted to me, and I was honored to be chosen as his mother.

As Jacob's birthday approached nearly 7 months after his death, I ached at the thought of not being able to tell him the story. On the evening of April 20th, 2007, we were actually on the road, returning from the annual memorial service held by the university Jacob attended. The memorial service was to recognize any students, faculty or staff who had died in the past year. The event just happened to be held right before Jacob's birthday. As 7pm approached, my husband pulled off the road. He had me walk to a quiet place with him, and he said I should call Jacob's phone and tell him the story. So I did. As best I could through all the tears and sobs. It hurt so much, but it was extremely important and healing. Even now, as I type this, tears are rolling down my cheeks and I am gasping for breath. Yes, it still hurts that much, and it probably always will.

Jacob, I can't wait to tell you the story again face to face in Heaven. We will laugh so hard and hold one another. I love you son!

Death Brings A Magic Carpet Ride

2008-12-25T22:13:00.000-05:00

Making it through another Christmas without my son, Jacob, is hard. When I allow myself to think about all that could/should have been, the pain is deep and tears flow easily. Most of the time, I just try to keep my thoughts elsewhere. I know I'm not alone in this approach. Many people have become my support during these past two years, three months, and most of them have been other moms who have lost children. It is to these people I look to determine whether my actions and attitudes are "normal"~whatever that means.

Last night, I found myself going to a group on Facebook I've been a part of for over a year. Most of the group members are moms who have lost children. The group is called "Who Am I Now?" It is a closed group, so I apologize that you can't go check it out. Sometimes it's important for us to have a safe place to go and write what we need to write. Other moms who've lost children can understand our need to cry out for help or to say it has been a suprisingly good couple of weeks. We can freely write about our children and not worry about someone getting bored with what we would like to share. As I pored over the site last night, I found a wonderful posting by one of the moms. She had gotten it from a website called HeavenLetters (http://heavenletters.org), and I'd like to share it here.

HEAVEN #2943 A Ride on a Magic Carpet, December 15, 2008

God said:

No matter what I say and how much I say, it seems that My children fear death, so-called death. Do you not know that leaving the cumbersome body is part of life?

That the body dies is no secret. Must it seem like such a dire thing? Must it? Life on Earth is not really a matter of life and death. I know you think so. You think that death is some horror waiting for you. Haven't you been taught to fear it? Camps called hospitals have been set up to delay it, medicines to defray it. Concern with the body's death is an occupation on Earth. Do not let it become a preoccupation. It's not worth it.

I will tell you, with all due regard to life, that from life to death is like going from riding a donkey to riding a magic carpet. I do not disparage life on Earth by calling it a donkey, for you know I love everything, every creature, and you. Riding a donkey is a wonderful thing. Flying on a magic carpet is another wonderful thing. This magic carpet awaits all. It exists for you. It is your servant. No one really wants to live forever in his body.

Death is not a vulture waiting for you. There is no death, beloveds. It is a lovely thing to ride on this metaphor of a magic carpet. When you ride on this magic carpet, illusion falls away. All the troubles of the world are illusion. Do you really want to hang on to illusion forever?Illusion serves you as it serves you. It serves only for a little while. It serves only in the illusion of time. Will you believe me when I tell you that Reality far exceeds even the finest of illusions on Earth? Again, this is not to take away from what you hold important and all the love that the world does hold. This is not to take you away from the joy of children and the fun of hopping, skipping, and jumping. Because the world is illusion doesn't take away a jot from the joys of illusion. The joys of illusion are like previews of what is to come. Not only what is to come, but what has been, and never was otherwise.

The clothes you wear on Earth are cover-ups. Even the body is hidden on Earth. How much more is hidden from your view!

There is no death. There is no purgatory. If there is purgatory, consider life on Earth that. Life on Earth purges you of many things. That is not to say that you need to get ready to be in My Presence. You have never been anywhere else. You are already in My Presence.

I simply don't want you to have so much mumbo-jumbo about death. Death does not bring you to your knees. It is not an ogre. It does not defeat you. It is just a servant. Whatever you think, it serves you well. It is not that Death helps you to escape from life. Death is a leaving, but it is not an escape. Life is yours forever. Death brushes your hair from your eyes so that you can see all that which was obscured from your view. It is like Death takes your sunglasses off. You simply don't need them anymore. No angle of the Sun's light is too bright for you anymore.Are sunglasses, even designer sunglasses, really so precious to you? Do you think you are not you without them?

When your body dies, nothing has happened. It is not the big deal you have thought.When on Earth you travel from one country to another, you simply travel from one beautiful country to another. You are still you.

And when your time on Earth is up, you simply change your direction and continue on your adventure. And you are still you.

Do I Have A Disease?

2008-12-23T23:49:00.000-05:00

There are many things we are not prepared for when we experience the death of a loved one. Perhaps one of the strangest things for me was watching how people reacted when they saw me in public after Jacob died. The reaction I am speaking of is the one that always leaves me feeling as though I have a disease.

The grocery store is the location where these reactions took place most often. Knowing that some people were not comfortable talking to me following the death of my son, I tried to be very accommodating when I would run into people. I would not force myself upon people. Eye contact and a brief smile was my typical approach. With people who seemed REALLY uncomfortable seeing me, I would actually look away and allow them the freedom to approach me or walk away. It is the ones who would walk away that left me feeling like I had some disease that they wanted to avoid (like the plague).

A good friend of mine who also lost her son said she thinks people who turn and walk away actually fear that if they come near us, their child will also die. I would have to agree with her to some extent. Either that, or they are so extremely uncomfortable with even thinking of a child's death that they would rather flee than spend a few painful moments asking us how we are doing.

Just a few days ago, I saw a woman out of the corner of my eye. For some reason, I always seem to run into her in the produce section. Well, we don't really run into one another because every time she sees me, she turns away and disappears down some other aisle. At this particular grocery store, the produce section is the first area you come to, so it's the first section people shop in. But this woman never seems to need produce when I'm there.

The sad thing is, she and I used to run into each other before and we'd always have a warm exchange and talk for a few minutes. If we didn't have other places we needed to be, we were capable of talking for half an hour or more. That's just how we connected with one another. Now, my presence seems to cause her to flee. This last time, I happened to be talking to another friend when this woman walked into the store. I purposely tried to make sure she saw me laughing with my friend in an attempt to put her at ease, but when I looked in her direction again, she was gone.

Another friend who lost her daughter exactly a year ago this Christmas is a hair dresser. She is in the process of leaving her current shop to join another shop. Why? Because she has lost half of her clientele in the past year, since her daughter's death. She thinks several of them are due to her clients' discomfort with her grief and loss. Much of the time she made a conscious effort not to mention her daughter's death, but for her long-time customers, most of them knew her daughter. Even with them, she tried not to talk about her daughter too much, but talking is often times the most therapeutic way of coping with grief. She felt it was safe with her closest friends who were customers, but it was some of her closest friends who stopped coming to her.

If you have not lost a child, but know someone who has, please don't run away from them. We know it might get old, but please take the time to ask us how we are doing. But more importantly, allow us to talk to you about the child who died. Ask questions, if you can. Most parents who have lost children love to talk about them. Speaking of them allows us to feel like they are close, and it somehow validates the life they lived. To ignore their lives as though they never existed is the hugest insult most parents can possibly experience after the death of a child.

My First ADC's

2008-12-23T09:05:00.001-05:00

Within days of Jacob's death, I began having powerful dreams where Jacob was communicating important messages to me. The first was a dream that was so extremely vivid that I could literally feel the fabric of Jacob's shirt and his skin. I was sitting in a bedroom when Jacob's best friend walked in. I asked him what he was doing, and he simply stated "they" were playing video games. Then, I looked up and saw Jacob standing in the doorway. I immediately jumped up and ran to him asking, "Jacob, what are you doing here?" There was a clear understanding in my mind that Jacob had already died. When I took hold of his right arm with both of my hands, I could feel his shirt and skin. He began moving to a corner of the room and I continued holding on to him but turned away briefly. When I looked back at Jacob, he was no longer in my hands, but my daughter was. My heart sank. Even though Jacob wasn't visible I could "hear" him in my spirit say, "Mom, I'm not with you anymore, but Raleigh is. You need to take care of her now. I will see you again, but now it's time to take care of Raleigh." I awoke from that dream with mixed feelings--delighted to have seen and touched my son, but so sad he was gone. I also was encouraged that he wanted me to take good care of his sister. That dream gave me the strength to be more available and attentive to Raleigh.

A series of dreams that came in the weeks after Jacob's death all had a similar theme. I was being given the option to tell Jacob to do something different so he would not have his accident. Each time he was alive, and I was aware that his accident had not yet happened. Every time I was about to tell him to do something different, I would wake up. Since I believe God still communicates to us through dreams, just as He did throughout the Bible, I had a strong sense that God was telling me something. Even though I wanted desperately to change what had happened, I couldn't. Those things lie outside of my control. I think Jacob wanted me to know that as well.

The ADC's

2008-12-17T14:11:00.000-05:00

No, it's not a typo. The title is supposed to say "The ADC's." What are ADC's? Those letters stand for After-Death Communication, so the ADC's are the after-death communications from people who haved died.

By now, you've either rolled your eyes thinking, "Here is some fruit-cake idea," or you've thought about closing the screen out of concern that this topic is an offense to your religious beliefs, or you're still reading because you're not sure what to think of this topic and you're curious to see what it's all about. One other possibililty is you are already familiar with this acronym because of your own interest in or experience with this topic.

Let me first say that most people have experienced an ADC of some sort or another in their lifetime, whether they have called it that or not. For some it might be through songs they hear on the radio that remind them of loved ones who are gone. For others it might be birds that seem to be singing a beautiful song just for them. Dreams, rainbows or even butterflies might be the form through which others experience a connection with a friend or family member who has died. This isn't an experience that is scary or limited to only a few, rare individuals. These experiences are usually a source of great, lasting comfort and joy and far more common than we might think.

Over the years, I remember hearing stories of the ways people felt a connection with a beloved grandparent, aunt, uncle, friend, etc. after they died. These stories always caught my attention because they were uplifting and encouraging to me. I don't recall ever doubting someone's story. The people who shared them were level-headed people who, in all ways visible to me, were very normal. They also had no reason to make up such stories.

After experiencing ADC's myself and sharing them with others, I have been astounded by how many people quickly share their own stories, which only serves to affirm my belief that they are real. Since many of my friends are people of the Christian faith, virtually all of the stories I heard were coming from people who were not visiting mediums or playing with Quija boards. These were people much like me, who had never experienced anything like it before, but when it happened, they knew almost instinctively it was connected to their loved one who had died. They were not looking for anything out of the ordinary, it simply happened, and they noticed it.

Over the weeks and months to come, I will share with you my own ADC's as well as the experiences other people have shared with me. In the meantime, there are various places on the internet where you can read people's accounts of their own ADC's. One of my personal favorites is: http://adcrf.org/ADC%20Stories.htm. Hope you will visit their site which lists hundreds of stories people have shared. Be sure to check back here as well! :)

Freedom To Grieve As Necessary

2008-12-13T15:16:00.000-05:00

Today I visited a wonderful memorial website for a beloved wife and mother http://kamalinisamuel.com/. I looked through the pictures and some of the video. I read what others had written and pondered in my heart what I had seen and read. One thing that touched me deeply was seeing the grief on the faces of this lovely woman's husband and daughters.

Two and a half years ago, these pictures might have seemed disturbing to me somehow. There are clear images of the girls touching their mother and laying their heads upon her body as they grieve. Today I look at them and think about how grateful I am that they felt the freedom to touch her and weep openly. They needed to do it and the culture of their environment allowed it to happen.

A few years ago, a young child in our community died. The mother chose to have her child's body in their home. Family members took turns touching his body and even holding him. During the funeral service, the mother held her precious son's body. Such actions were clearly not typical or well received by all who witnessed them. I remember thinking to myself that I was so glad the family didn't allow our sterile culture of cold morgues and embalming fluids to keep them from embracing their little son/brother as they needed. Yes, it shocked people and left them feeling uncomfortable, but who cares? During that time, it wasn't about the people who were watching. It was ALL about that family and what they needed to do. My guess is there is little or no regret over what they did.

Certain social rules, cultural norms or even personal experience will often dictate how comfortable we are with expressing our grief and touching the body of someone who has died. As a little girl, my grandmother encouraged me to touch my grandfather's body as it lay in a casket. I did so, but never forgot how it upset me to feel how cold and stiff he was. That left a lasting impression. As a 17 year-old, I stood next to my sister-in-law's casket and stared at her. She was a beautiful woman, but I could see evidence of the trauma her body had experienced in the car accident. Later, I wished my last image of her was when she was alive and laughing. Both experiences left a mark on me that influenced how I responded after Jacob's death.

At first, I didn't even want to see Jacob's body. How could I look at my son with his wounds and survive? After being told that he "looked good," my husband convinced me I needed to say goodbye. The whole process took only a couple of minutes. As I stood there looking at Jacob's body, everything in me was screaming out, "No, no! This can't be him! This isn't him!" I knew Jacob wasn't there. His body was convered in a white sheet up to his chin. His scalp was completely wrapped in an inch of gauze. Only his beautiful face was visible. I walked out of that room never having touched him, and to this day, I feel such guilt and regret for being unable to do so. I wish that my experiences and culture had created an attitude and environment that would have allowed me to touch my son freely.

Tonight, my husband and I are having dinner with two other couples who have become friends. Both couples have lost a child in a car accident. One of the mothers has shared how she took the initiative to pull back the sheet that covered her son. She needed and wanted to see his injuries. The other mother touched her daughter repeatedly and kissed her multiple times while stroking her daughter's hair and face. I am so glad they did.

An aunt who recently lost her husband said she crawled into the bed next to her husband's body and held him. Others spoke up and said she probably should not do that, but she boldly responded by saying, "This is the last time that I will be able to lay next to my husband! I'm going to do this!" Good for her.

When someone we love dies, we must allow ourselves the freedom to do whatever we need to do. I wish that I had understood my own need better at the time of Jacob's death. If so, I would have hugged him and kissed him. If you've not already faced that moment, please seriously think through this and give yourself permission to do what feels right to you. When that moment does come, you want to be somewhat prepared to respond in a way that you will not regret later.

Surrounding Ourselves With The Right People

2008-12-12T22:29:00.000-05:00

After a significant loss, it is important to protect ourselves. We become very vulnerable, so we must find people who will be respectful of our grief. Otherwise, we might be deeply hurt and begin to supress our grief. If the people closest to us are telling us to stop crying and to "get over it," it is important to begin seeking out support from other people. One way to do that is to find others who have been through our same loss. Often times, it is possible to find grief support groups, some of which might be focused on specific types of loss.

Griefnet.org is a great resource on the internet. This link will take you to a comprehensive list of support groups of several kinds: http://www.griefnet.org/support/sg2.html#spouse. Specific support groups exist for those who've lost loved ones to suicide, murder, cancer. etc. Part of the beauty of the internet is our accessability to resources that were once only available to people who lived in larger cities.

The best possible form of support is through family or friends, but if we do not have sufficient support there, our next step would be to find a grief support group in our community. If we are unable to find a support group focused on our specific loss, we should look for a support group nonetheless. A support group for parents who have lost children now exists in my community, but it didn't exist in those first months after Jacob's death. I found a group that was general in its grief support, but there were other parents there who had also lost children. Widows and widowers found others who had also lost a spouse. The causes of death varied as well. What I found most helpful was that we all validated one another's grief, even if we couldn't understand it fully.

If family and/or friends have not experienced our same kind of loss, they might not be able to offer the support we need, despite their best attempts to do so. Others who have walked on the same path we walk can be an unexpected source of comfort, encouragement and support. Hopefully, they will reach out to us, but we may have to seek them out and see if they are willing to talk with us.

My community has an extraordinary number of parents who have lost children, so many of them reached out to my husand and me. They offered the best advice and pure honesty, even some that hurt to hear at first, but proved to be helpful in the long run. In return, we reached out to parents who lost children after Jacob died. Within 15 months of Jacob's death, four families we knew experienced the death of children who were in their teens. Two of them were classmates of Jacob's.

We are never in this alone.

Have A Plan

2008-12-11T11:04:00.000-05:00

Whenever we have lost someone significant in life, there are going to be certain dates that are going to be difficult to face. Birthdays, anniversaries (wedding or the day of death), holidays, etc. As those dates approach, we need to begin developing a plan for the day. That doesn't mean fill the day with all kinds of activities to keep our minds off the ones we have lost. It means have a plan for how we will spend that day to avoid getting swallowed up by grief and sorrow. Those days are going to be difficult, to be sure, but we can arrange each of those days in such a way as to make it possible to survive and get through to day after.

Perhaps the worst thing we can do is allow a special day to descend upon us without any plan at all. That's when we will find ourselves sitting in a chair all day long just crying. Maybe that works for a few individuals, but most of us would find ourselves consumed by the weight of such grief and sink deeper into depression. It is important for us to be proactive and keep ourselves out of the pit of despair, if we can.

What does a plan look like? It could be as detailed as an hour by hour list of what we will do for the day, or as general as a few basic goals for what we would like to accomplish that day in relation to the one we have lost. For instance, I might decide that I want to buy special flowers to take to the cemetery, write a letter to the one I have lost, and go for a walk in one of our favorite places. That is a very basic plan with no time frames as to when my activities will be done. I might get more detailed by deciding that I want to spend time writing in my journal early in the morning, followed by a long walk. In the afternoon I might set aside time to look at old photos with friends or family agreeing ahead of time that I need to have the freedom to cry, if necessary (and probably likely).

Our plans don't need to be rigid or lengthy and detailed, but having a plan of some sort is essential. If the thought of making a plan is too overwhelming, we should find others who can help us. We don't need to be afraid or ashamed to ask for help if we need it. Some people will be thrilled to help because they know they want to help but don't know what to do.

A few of our friends organized a gathering at the beach on Jacob's birthday. They knew Jacob loved the beach, so they thought it was appropriate to meet there. Food was coordinated and brought. We didn't have to set up or clean up. Then we were surprised with a night at a condo on the beach. Michael and I only planned to visit the cemetery the morning of Jacob's birthday. Everything else was done for us. That was for the first birthday we faced which was 7 months after his death. For the 2nd birthday, it was completely up to us, but we were ready to make the plans by then. That time, we chose to drive to the accident site and plant flowers around the cross that marks the site. It took us nearly 10 hours in the car roundtrip. During the drive, we spoke of Jacob and some of our fondest memories of him. While we were planting flowers, a gentleman pulled up who was a first responder for Jacob's accident. We heard for the first time what our son's last moments of life were like from a person who was there. That was a gift from God. When we returned home that evening, we sang happy birthday, enjoyed Jacob's favorite birthday dessert, and our daughter opened up a gift my husband and I had bought for Jacob. As we sang happy birthday to Jacob, we were stopped by an unusual harmonic sound coming from one corner of the room. To this day, we don't know where that sound came from, but we considered it a parting of the veil that separates Heaven and Earth. We knew Jacob had come for his birthday party. I don't know what we will do for Jacob's next birthday on April 21, 2009, which will mark what would have been his 21st birthday. We still have four months to decide, but we will need to have a plan.

Having a plan is essential whether it is a birthday, holiday, or any special day, so begin your planning as soon as you can. Give yourself time and space to grieve, and surround yourself with people who will let you do whatever you need to do.

Is Grief All There Is After Death?

2008-12-10T21:00:00.001-05:00

After someone we love has died, grief overwhelms us. It's almost like a living organism that wraps itself around us. This organism grips our stomachs and makes it nearly impossible to eat. It invades our hearts, sometimes causing them to beat irregularly. We ache from the intensity of the organism's grip, but often times we can't even determine where exactly it hurts-perhaps because in some ways it hurts everywhere. Grief carries a lot of weight, so when it attaches itself to us, we look different, we walk differently, we breathe differently. So the question is, Do we ever break free of the grip grief has on us? If so, how and when?

The answer that comes to my mind immediately is, Yes, we do break free, if we are willing to do so. Some people cling to grief, long after grief has loosened its grip on them. Sometimes people will wear grief like a comforting blanket because it allows them certain freedoms upon which they become dependent. Grief offers us the freedom to cry whenever we need to, which is good and important. We might need to cry a lot, and if the intensity of the pain lingers, we might find ourselves needing to cry a lot for a long time. But when our grief (after it has subsided) becomes a license to cry whenever we want, over whatever we want, for however long we want, it is an abuse of that freedom. Grief offers us the freedom to be angry for a time, but when we consider it a right that we cling to for years, we make everyone around us miserable. We who are grieving are often given leeway when it comes to responsibility, but we ought not take it to a point of thinking it is now our perogative to be irresponsible. When we take the freedom that grief offers us and abuse those freedoms, we become prisoners of our own self-destructive behavior and attitudes. When that happens, we are unable to break free to enjoy life.

So, in some sense, we choose when grief no longer controls our lives. Grief will always be there, especially when the loss is someone who was very significant to us, but we don't have to let it always have the say in the quality of our life. When it comes to how we break free from grief's grip, we also can have a choice. Sometimes, however, it just happens.

The first moment I felt a slight release came only days after Jacob died. A friend of ours was in China on a business trip at the time of Jacob's accident. His wife had called him in China to give him the news, and he decided to call us at home. He spoke with my husband, Michael. After discussing the awful details of Jacob's death and accident, our friend began sharing funny thoughts and memories of Jacob with my husband. I didn't hear what he was saying, but I heard my husband laughing. That laughter came as such a shock, but I was thrilled to hear it. Not just anyone could make my husband or me laugh at that moment, but that particular friend certainly could. He had always made us laugh in the past, and he was able to do it, even in our darkest hour. That laughter gave me unbelievable hope that grief would not have its stranglehold on me forever.

Another clear moment of feeling grief's release came four or five days after Jacob's death. I learned that the mother of a classmate of Jacob's had experienced a vision. In the vision, Jacob came to her as a young boy and said to her, "Tell my mom I'm okay, and I'm learning a new dance, and I'm dancing with Jesus!" I didn't have to receive her story as a word of comfort. In fact, I could have been angry about the fact that SHE had the vision and not me. But thankfully, I saw it as a sign of hope and a message from Heaven. Those words had profound meaning to me, and this mother could not possibly have known why the exact words she shared were important. In fact, no one other than Jacob and my husband could have known. Since my husband hadn't been out of my sight since Jacob's death, I knew he had not told anyone the details that came out in that vision.

You see, the day before Jacob died, I cried in front of him and said, "How does a parent let go of a child (due to death), how does a mother ever let go of her son?" I spoke those words that day because Jacob's classmate had died. A.J. died of bone cancer that morning, September 23, 2006. I was standing next to Jacob when he received the news. My husand, Jacob and I all prayed for A.J. and his family. It was after the prayer that I broke down and spoke those words to Jacob. I even apologized to him for being so emotional, but he said he understood and that it was okay. The fact that, in her vision, Jacob said to this mother, "Tell my mom I'm okay," was an indication to me that he remembered how it hurt me to think about losing a son. He wanted to comfort me.

Another detail from the vision that was a clear indication that it was real was Jacob's reference to a "new dance." That very same day that Jacob's classmate died, he informed my husband and me for the first time in his life that he liked to dance. We were stunned! Our Jacob liked dancing?! What a complete surprise! He then pulled out his cell phone and played a video clip he took at a dance club earlier that week. He even pulled it out and showed it to me again the next day, the day he died. Why would he randomly say, "I'm learning a new dance" in that vision? He mentioned the dancing because it had been a part of our conversation that weekend, and he knew we'd remember. He also mentioned he was dancing with Jesus. The morning of his accident, Jacob and I were talking about Heaven and what it would be like. We had talked about Heaven the day before as well after he received news of A.J.'s death. We talked about how amazing it would be to see Jesus face to face.

I wasn't expecting or looking for someone to come to me with a vision of Jacob. Dreams of Jacob were already starting for me, but I did not expect other people to be having dreams or visions. My dreams were powerful and very meaningful, but they were to be somewhat expected given that my mind was constantly thinking of him every waking moment. The person who had the vision was the mother of a classmate who hadn't probably spoken directly to Jacob since he was in elementary school (which is why it makes perfect sense to me that he would appear as a younger child to her). She and I knew each other, but hadn't been in contact with one another for years, despite living only a few miles apart.

Grief was still overwhelming for several months to come, but experiences like this woman's vision helped to comfort me and loosen grief's grip. Knowing that God exists in the spiritual realm, I knew it was completely possible that God could do anything he wanted in that realm to reach out and comfort me. At the same time, I was very guarded because evil also has its place in the same realm. Scripture clearly states that Satan will disguise himself as an angel of light to deceive us. My prayers were continually asking God to give me wisdom and discernment, but to also give me eyes to see and ears to hear, because I did not want to miss a single thing He had for me. And open my eyes and ears HE DID!!!! Had I slammed the door shut on that vision and said it was completely from Satan, I would have missed the sweetest gift of healing God had brought to me.

Those gifts just kept on coming too! I experienced many of them, but they also came from all kinds of different people, people whom I trusted. They were also people who were not looking for these things. One friend, an ordained member of the clergy, stated he had never experienced a vision before in his life, but one morning as he was getting out of bed to have his daily time of prayer and reading, he had a very vivid vision of Jacob. Through it, he had a sense of the work Jacob might now be doing, at least in part. Jacob communicated to him, but telepathically rather than verbally, that he was having the time of his life in Heaven. Our friend said Jacob looked like a million bucks, and when he moved, his feet never touched the ground. Jacob's body moved effortlessly.

Grief is natural and it's important for us to walk through it. Grief, oddly enough, can serve a purpose that is helpful to us. Even for those of us who fully believe that life goes on and we will see our loved ones again, grief is very real. To brush over the grief process because our faith says that life continues even after death is scary to me. It denies the grief that comes from the temporary, yet horrific, separation, especially when it has come suddenly and out of the natural order of things. A parent never expects to bury a child. When a child dies, all the hopes and dreams you had for your future with that child are shattered. To expect someone to simply get past that is ridiculous and cruel.

I don't want to magnify grief, but I also don't want to minimize it. Grief has its place, but it doesn't have to take up residence in that place for the rest of our lives. Focusing on the blessings of having those loved ones in our lives is helpful. Over time, it's important to begin to look for positive ways to keep the loved one's light burning through us by serving others and carrying out a dream the loved one had. Turning our energy from grieving to living is the most important and helpful step we will ever take. Grief will define who we are for a time, but we don't need to let it define us for the rest of our lives. Today, I am still a mother who grieves the loss of her son, but I am so much more than that.

Other people's stories have served to encourage me tremendously. If you would like to learn more about my personal experiences since Jacob's death, you can always visit the memorial website I created: http://jacobnyenhuis.memory-of.com/. Another place where you can read other people's accounts is: http://adcrf.org/ADC%20Stories.htm I certainly don't claim that every person's account is true, accurate or from God, but many of them are extremely encouraging and might be helpful. You may begin to recognize the gifts intended for you that you simply missed before. Another source of powerful stories is the book Hello From Heaven. You can learn more about that book here: http://www.after-death.com/ Blessings to all of you!

The First Christmas Without Jacob

2008-12-05T17:44:00.000-05:00

The first year Jacob was not here for Christmas, we weren't sure what to do. Jacob had already said he wanted to go to Michigan where every other year my husband's family gathers. We weren't sure if Jacob would want to go to Michigan that year since he was a freshman at college and it was a time when he could be home with his friends, but he had made it very clear just a couple weeks before he died that he wanted to be with family and celebrate our "traditional" Christmas. Maybe it was for that reason we decided to stick with tradition, but it turned out to be the wrong thing to do, at least for my husband and me. Don't get me wrong, my husband's family tried to be sensitive, and the kids were especially great with the younger girl cousins coming up with a holiday cheer that included Jacob's name. The problem was that none of them had a clue how painful going through Christmas without Jacob was. How could they?

Christmas Eve was the absolute worst. I had no memory of this from past Christmas celebrations, but my husband said it was the way we had always done the gift exchange with his family--they started with the youngest of the kids and worked up to the oldest. The gaping hole that existed for my husband, my daughter and me when we skipped from the cousin who was a year younger than Jacob to the cousin who was a year older was enough to kill us. I was screaming inside, "How can you just ignore Jacob like that!!!!" Not even a mention of his name. I wanted to leave the room and vomit. Even though Grandpa had read a lovely poem before the gift opening started and then discussed briefly Jacob's absence, I cannot tell you how excruciating it was to go through that process and simply ignore Jacob's rightful place in the order of cousins. As I said, I didn't remember us doing that, so the process began to unfold before I even realized what was happening. In hindsight, I wish I had either gotten up and walked out or had asked them to PLEASE draw names or something other than by age. If we had drawn names, there never would have been the obvious moment when Jacob's turn would have arrived. The other possibility would have been to ask them to take the time that would have been Jacob's turn to allow the cousins to all share one memory of Jacob they will always cherish.

There was also the horrible miscommunication between my husband and me about attending the Christmas Eve church service. I thought we had agreed to remain behind when everyone else went to the church service in order to have some quiet family time away from all the craziness of 30+ family members gathered in one place. Before I knew it, people were rushing out the door to go to church. My daughter had already gone out and my husband had his jacket on. My head was spinning. I was completely confused and felt so uncomfortable speaking up in front of my husband's family, but the LAST thing I wanted to do was go to an unfamiliar church and sing Christmas songs. Just being in church was hard enough, but to sing songs when it was exactly three months to the hour since my son's death was more than I could fathom.

When we arrived at the church, I was relieved to see a pew open near the very back. I needed to know I could slip out without disturbing everyone else if it all got too hard, which was very likely. Just as I was about to slide into the pew, my husband took hold of my hand and lead me to the third or fourth pew from the front. I thought he had lost his mind. What was he doing? Why was he having us sit up front? The people on the ends didn't want to move in, so we had to crawl over people and sit in the middle. I literally thought I had died and gone to Hell. Even though the choir members had no idea who I was, because they were facing the congregation, it felt like every one of them had their eyes right on me.

During the service, it felt like I was losing my mind. I wanted to scream and cry out, "Where is Jacob? Why can't Jacob be here? How can you all be smiling?" My anger was raging inside of me, my pain was raging inside of me, and I had no way to release any of it. As we sang Silent Night by candlelight, I felt the freedom to cry, but it was just tears rolling down my cheeks, not the wailing that I needed to do at that moment.

When the service was finally over and we made our way out, I turned to my husband and asked, "How could you do that to me?" He was dumbfounded. He thought he was helping by separating me from the rest of the family and just having the two of us together. However, in that setting the family became the safety net amongst strangers. They were my buffer zone, so to speak. That wasn't how my husband saw it at all. He was trying to help and it completely backfired. From that moment on he didn't speak to me or even look at me. That's how it went the rest of our time with his family. Not one word was exchanged between us on Christmas Day. I would look at my husband, but he would never look in my direction or acknowledge me. If Christmas Eve was Hell, I don't even have a word to describe Christmas Day, 2006. Or the next day as we drove several hours in the car.

That's when I knew life was never going to be the same. For our family, Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year. We had enjoyed 18 glorious Christmas celebrations with Jacob and 16 with our daughter, but those days were gone, part of a sweet past that we could never have back again. At that point, I honestly wanted to give up and die. If not for my daughter, I think I would have.

Maybe You Can Try Something New This Holiday Season

2008-12-05T16:21:00.000-05:00

There is always the question that comes when special dates are approaching, "What do we do?" To ignore the date and let it pass can cause the one who is grieving to feel as though they have betrayed the loved one who is gone, and guilt will result, leading to a deeper grief. On the other hand, some might find it to painful to do any formal recognition of the date or event.

The holidays are different. Unlike a birthday or anniversary, the whole world knows when it is holiday time. The stores show signs of the approching holiday several weeks in advance. When it comes to tradition-filled holidays like Thanksgiving or Christmas (if you celebrate either one), it is important to have a plan in mind for what you are going to do. Some people want to hold onto the traditions because doing so helps them feel close to the one who is gone. Getting out the decorations for the holidays might begin a sweet, heart-warming trip down memory lane. While a few tears might come during that process, it can still be a very positive experience.

Another option is to start some new traditions. If doing the same thing (but without the loved one) is not an option, then this might be the approach to use. This might mean gathering at a new location or doing different activities. It might even mean taking a trip somewhere, unlike any you have done before. If tradition will only cause pain, it is better to try a new routine.

Then there is always the option to skip the holidays all together. For some, going through the motions just to please everyone else is more than they can bear. It's kind of hard to pretend it's just another day when on Thanksgiving or Christmas all the stores and even most restaurants are closed. However, if going out is not necessary anyway, it's possible to creat a feeling of "just another day" inside one's own house. Maybe getting away on a cruise is the answer, but chances are they will be playing holiday music and have holiday-themed activities.

For us, doing something entirely different was the answer. The 2nd Christmas without Jacob, I was able to decorate, but most of the decorations were new ones. I still couldn't bring out the handmade crafts from when the kids were younger or the familiar ornaments. Rather than stay home or be with extended family. We headed south and stayed in a condo in Florida near the beach. It turned out great.

One family we know was given tickets to a cruise for their first Christmas after their son died. The mom and dad and five kids set sail. For the kids, it was a fun diversion, but for the mother, it was a nightmare. All she wanted to do was get off the stupid boat and have her son back. She was a prisoner at sea. But another couple we know who lost their only child, a daughter, went on a cruise for Christmas, and it was very helpful for them. Being in an entirely different place made it feel less like Christmas, which made it better.

We each have to try our own thing based on what we know about ourselves and our situation. The choice we make may not end up being the right one or the best one, but that's how we learn. Sometimes the "wrong" choice can be devastating, and we need to be prepared for that as well. Our first Christmas was disastrous, but the second one was far better. We are about to face our third Christmas without Jacob and we've opted to repeat what we did last year, but there is no guarantee that what worked well last year will work well this year.

A Funeral & Some Good Advice For Holiday Parties

2008-12-04T22:55:00.000-05:00

Today I went to a funeral. As far as funerals go, this was a really nice one. Of course there were tears, but there was laughter and amazing music. My friend, Jo Dean, died this past Sunday, November 30, 2008. She had been duking it out with breast cancer for roughly 14 years. Cancer won the final match. Dang it all!!!! Actually, Jo Dean won. She's now in Heaven dancing with Jesus, not to mention Jacob. The rest of us? We are stuck here trying to make sense of a world that makes very little sense at all.

Jo Dean's voice that now is harmonizing with the angels, was lovely. She sang in the choir every Sunday that she could. In fact, the last time I saw her was 2 1/2 weeks ago, and she was sitting in the choir loft at church with her ever-present, beautiful smile. Each Christmas season, Jo Dean would sing in the local production of Handel's Messiah. Nearly 100 people from the various churches throughout our community would join together for this wonderful performance. This year, Jo Dean won't be there, but the choir came to her funeral and sang a number of the songs for the service, including the Hallelujah Chorus. When they started rocking and clapping to "Soon and Very Soon," I was nearly busting at the seams with joy. Jo Dean has seen the King!

Because I was attending Jo Dean's funeral, I missed the Christmas party for my weekly Grief Share group. This afternoon, one of my friends who also attends the group called and told me how great the party went. Wish I could have been there, but there was no way I was going to miss Jo Dean's funeral.

My friend shared with me some of the very practical advice that she got from the meeting today. Most of it came from a video that was produced specifically for grief during the holidays. I certainly don't want to steal their material, so I am first going to tell you where you can find some of the info from the DVD and the group that puts it out. http://griefshare.org/holidays/

What about those holiday party invitations? The last thing you need is to stress yourself out with social engagements or commitments, so what should you do? The advice given was to go through with the RSVP and thank the host for thinking of you and inviting you. Let the person know that you would like to attend, but ask if it would be okay to back out if you simply find yourself not up to it that particular day or evening. Most hosts will understand and graciously give you the option to not show if it's just too hard. When you RSVP, be sure to encourage the host to continue to include you in the social activities, but explain that it might be awhile before you are able to resume your social outings. Clearly state that even if you have to say no to the invites for several months or longer, that you still need that connection for when you really are ready to engage in that aspect of life again. Sometimes people stop inviting you because they don't want to pressure you, but if you ask them to still include you, then they know it's okay to be persistent.

With all that said, be honest with yourself when it comes to these holiday parties. Don't go and try to pretend to be happy when you are not. Being forced to put on the mask is no help at all, unless it helps you to get out and be with other people. For me, I felt miserable inside when my husband and I attended the first Christmas party roughly 10 weeks after Jacob's death. Yet it was good for me to get out and be with other people. I needed to be forced into social settings now and then. The smiles and laughter from me were genuine for the most part, and people knew to be sensitive. I didn't force myself upon anyone and make others feel uncomfortable (or at least I hope I didn't). You quickly learn the people who are at ease with those who are grieving and those who are not. Just stick with the ones who can handle being near your grief. The others will probably run away before you can get to them anyway.

Try not to resent the ones who just can't help you during the deepest part of your grief. They simply don't know what to say or how to act. I certainly had no clue what to say or do before I had gone through all of this, but even now I find myself ill-equipped at times. Just today, I found myself unable to say anything to Jo Dean's daughters. I didn't know them at all because they were grown and gone before I ever even knew Jo Dean. Nothing I could think of at the time seemed right. I ended up sitting down and writing something to them after the funeral instead.

Unpredictable Emotions

2008-12-04T09:23:00.000-05:00

As I spoke with my friend yesterday who had lost her nephew only hours earlier, she made a comment that she said her brother (the father of the young man who died) had made to her when they talked. She said, "I'm having a strong moment right now." Those words reflect the strange place in which you are suspended in the aftermath of a traumatic experience. There seems to be a near "out of body" feeling where you are standing outside yourself and observing that you are doing well. It seems out of body because you know in your head that you should be in a puddle on the ground given the circumstances. Yet, somehow, during these early days, we find that we are held together or held up at times by a force beyond ourselves. The reality is that we can swing from a strong moment to a total melt down within seconds. Suddenly, some new thought enters our minds like, "Oh my gosh, he won't be there at Christmas!" or "I'll never get to see him get married!" and we fall to pieces.

Varying emotions are to be expected. A numbness sets in that allows you to function on auto pilot for awhile, but even that numbness can only last so long. Each time the reality of what has happened hits you afresh, you might find yourself gasping audibly then crying uncontrollably. This kind of thing might go on for months. Even now, as I stand 2 years and 2 months after the death of Jacob, I still have moments that take my breath away because of the intensity of my inner response. Just last week I was in Target and happened to be within earshot of a display that was playing Christmas music. A song came on that Jacob used to love (and probably still does), making me fully aware of the fact that we are having to do Christmas without him again. Tears began to fill my eyes and I had to walk away from the music, the very music that used to fill me with pure joy.

Anger is a very real part of the range of emotions that might be experienced. For some, anger is an early response, for others it might not come until later. That anger might be toward the one who died, especially if the death was the result of suicide, risky behavior or a failure to live a healthier lifestyle. When death is the result of someone else's actions such as murder or drunk driving, the anger is naturally directed toward the perpetrator. Sometimes the anger is toward God or the universe for even allowing such a thing as death to occur.

To those around the grieving person, please refrain from judging the anger. It may seem irrational, but it is real, and the quicker it can be released, the better. Anger is poison to the soul. If it is forced to stay inside, it will only corrupt more of what's inside and grow. Providing a safe place for someone to release their anger is helpful. Remember, it doesn't have to make sense to you, so please don't say to the one who is grieving, "You shouldn't feel that way!" or "Stop talking like that!" Those words will only make the anger worse. Anger that is released is more likely to be diffused.

The first morning after Jacob's death, I remember being mad at the sun. How dare it come up and look so beautiful when my son was dead!! Don't the darn birds know there is nothing to be singing about now that Jacob has died? Is that rational? No, but it was how I felt. Even in the first few minutes, I was angry at the officer who told us Jacob was dead and the nurse who said Jacob had been dead too long to donate his organs. There was also the need to deal with my anger toward God for even allowing such a thing to happen to my son. Many times I cried out to God. I kicked and screamed and pounded on His chest by pounding on the bed. Every time I wrestled with God, the match would end peacefully. God would speak to my soul and comfort me. He would remind me of how much He loves Jacob, even MORE than I do. He would assure me that Jacob was right there with Him, forever safe where there was no more suffering. I could sense Him wrapping His arms around me and holding me, and my spirit was calm once more.

Our emotions are part of who we are, and we should respect them by giving them a safe place to be released. That might mean getting all alone and screaming at the top of your lungs. It might mean talking to a close friend who is not afraid to be there when you cry. Writing your thoughts down on paper might be helpful, even if it means writing so hard it tears the paper. In fact, that might be the most helpful way. Then, you might follow it up with tearing the paper to shreds. Maybe a good workout (think punching bag here) or a long walk or run would help. To be most effective, each of these physical activities should be done in conjunction with an emotional release like crying or yelling, so be mindful of where you are doing this. Please be responsible at the same time. Don't hurt the ones around you by directing your emotions at them, even if they were somewhat at fault. They are probably beating themselves up pretty badly as it is. Anger directed at people will only destroy relationships and create bitterness. Yes, release the anger, but in safe ways for yourself and the people around you.

Here are a couple of places I just found after doing a quick search on healthy ways to release anger: http://www.soundfeelings.com/free/anger.htm You'll have to scroll down the page to get past the ads before you find the helpful tips. http://tinyurl.com/5ez8bv and http://www.apa.org/topics/controlanger.html offer helpful advice.

Accidental Drug Overdose

2008-12-03T19:50:00.000-05:00

Just minutes after posting today's blog, my phone rang, and it was my best friend from high school. She was calling to give me some very sad news. Her nephew just died only a few hours ago from an accidental drug overdose. He was in his mid 20's. We both agreed it was accidental because he had just spoken with his grandfather this morning about plans they had for this Friday. He had not given any indication of wanting his life to be over. My heart is so heavy for this entire family. I am all too familiar with the horror of the sudden shock of learning your child has died. May God comfort them in a powerful way today and in the weeks, months and years to come. To return to day one of this journey is more than my heart and mind can grasp.

As soon as I hung up, I said a prayer. My friend who had called was about to tell her young son about his cousin's death. Her son had just come in the door from school. After praying for my friend, her son as he heard the news, as well as the various family members who were all finding their lives turned upside down today, I called another friend of mine. She too had lost a son to an accidental drug overdose while in his early 20's. The death of her handsome, wonderful son was nearly 4 years ago. We talked about her Thanksgiving and how it went, the fourth one without her son. She said the day was rather uneventful, unlike the normal way they used to spend Thanksgiving when the family was whole. They used to have a low country boil and play football at the beach. After her son died, they couldn't imagine playing football without him being there. It all sounded very familiar. We used to go to the North Carolina mountains, hike the trails, visit the local toy store and a special antiques shop to laugh at a certain chair that was always there year after year, catch a movie in Asheville, and finally, cut down our Christmas tree to bring back home. We haven't been able to do that since Jacob died. To do the same thing, only without Jacob, would mean way too much pain.

As I considered the loss my dear friend's family had just experienced today, I knew I had to add a link that would deal specifically with accidental drug overdoses. They are far too common, but a specific area of grief I had not included in my post today. There are many other areas I've overlooked as well, but my goal was to offer links to places that provided support and encouragment to some of the general grief categories. For those who are suffering the loss of a loved one to an accidental drug overdose, here is a place to begin http://tinyurl.com/56xdkb. I was also impressed with a website where family or friends of those who have died from drug-related causes can post memorials. Creating and maintaining Jacob's memorial website has been a source a great comfort and a positive way to work through my grief. Perhaps it will be good therapy for you as well. Here is where you can create a memorial http://www.drugfree.org/Memorials/. May you find special peace beyond all understanding this holiday season.

Grief and the Holidays

2008-12-03T18:10:00.000-05:00

The holiday season is here, and along with it comes the greatest joy and the greatest sorrow. Before losing my son, Thanksgiving and Christmas were the most wonderful holidays, closely followed by the excitement and hope of a new year. The traditions brought joy and comfort along with warm memories. The music alone could take me to a magical place in my mind and spirit. No time of year was ever more filled with anticipation and joy than the holiday season.

All of that changed drastically in the fall of 2006, when my one and only son died as a result of a car accident. For someone who has recently experienced the death of a dearly loved one or has suffered a great loss of some sort (the loss of a job or the end of a relationship), the holidays quickly become a time of year that is filled with great pain and sorrow. The fact that so many others are reveling in the excitement of the holidays only exacerbates the misery of those who are grieving. Those first trips to stores filled with holiday decorations hurt so much because they serve as reminders of all that you no longer have.

Two of my worst experiences with this took place at a Hallmark store. The first was while I was standing in line to check out. First, a song began playing that was a favorite for our family during the holidays. I could feel my heart quicken and my breathing changed. Emotions and memories began swirling around inside of me. Then a woman in line for the other cash register began talking to the cashier about her adult daughter's very serious car accident. She described what happened to the vehicle and the injuries her daughter sustained. I felt deep compassion for this woman, but I wanted her to stop talking. She appeared to be well-equipped to help her daughter through her healing process which made me thankful, but the bluntness of her description was too much. Deep inside of me were screams: "Stop telling the details!" "I've got to get out of here!" "Be quiet, lady!" "Why do I have to be listening to this?" "Why must you tell this story out loud for everyone to hear?" "My son died! I can't hear about your daughter who survived!" My thoughts were selfish and unfair because this woman was grieving too, but I simply could not bear to hear anymore.

The second experience involved an employee who was on the phone with her child. In full volume, she was berating another one of her children for not cleaning up the house. She was telling one child to relay threatening statements to the other child. "You better tell her that if she doesn't get that stuff picked up, she is gonna get it from me when I get home. She can kiss the car goodbye! I can't stand her and her attitude!" (I wonder where the daughter got it from?) My stomach began churning as I heard this conversation play out. The irony of it all? I was at the store to buy cards for three other parents who had also lost children. The desire within me to go up and give this woman a piece of my mind was so strong I began trembling. Once again I found myself screaming inside, "Don't you know how blessed you are to have your child? What if something happened to your child, and those were the last words she heard from you? Who gives a ____ about the condition of your house! Your child and the relationship you have with your child are FAR more important than the appearance of your house!"

Holidays are a time when relationships, especially close family relationships, become a central focus. After all, it is with our family that we celebrate most of these holidays. For the one who is now without a beloved family member or significant other, the loss is magnified. The hole left be the absence of a loved one becomes so huge during the holidays, it can engulf the one who is grieving. The hole becomes an emotional blackhole that sucks away all hope and joy. Only someone who has been through this experience can begin to grasp the depth and reality of this painful time.

The holidays become something very different in the shadow of a significant loss. If you are the one who has experienced the loss, don't expect much of yourself. Don't worry about trying to be your same old self for everyone else. Granted, they won't like that you are not yourself, but whether or not you are causing them discomfort doesn't need to be your concern. Now is the time to take care of YOU! It's OK to be a little selfish as you cope with the pain.

If you are a person who is going to be spending time with the one who is grieving deeply, be patient. This is all new territory for that person. DO allow them to grieve however necessary. DON'T tell them not to cry. Crying is important and helpful. It releases toxins and stress. DO be willing to talk about the one who has died if the grieving person needs to do that. DON'T avoid the topic!! Ask the person if they want to talk or not. Maybe it makes you a bit uncomfortable to talk about the person who died and you don't like to see the other person crying, but so what. Right now, it is NOT about you. It is about the one who is experiencing fresh and intense grief.

Some other ways people can help is offer to do some gift shopping for the one who is grieving, or offer to take the person with you. Just be ready to leave the store quickly if the person becomes overwhelmed. DON'T suggest to keep going because you think it will be better for them. Remember, this isn't about YOU. Perhaps a group of people can offer to decorate the home for the holidays, but realize that the old familiar decorations might be too painful for them to see right now. You could offer to get a few simple decorations that are new to them--either some that you or other friends aren't using this year or new ones from the store.

To help yourself get through this time, or to help someone you care about make it through, I will reference some sources of help that I mentioned in the last blog and add some new ones. A repeat from the earlier blog are: http://tinyurl.com/5u3xxy, http://tinyurl.com/6cwsz7, and http://tinyurl.com/5k9ssd. You will want to check these out to see specifically how they apply since some are better suited to those who've lost children or who are of the Christian faith.

Here are some others: http://tinyurl.com/6a4ya8 is a wonderful site for those who are experiencing grief due to a suicide. This site was started by a mother of a young man who committed suicide in his 20's. http://tinyurl.com/64mdfb is a website that deals with a variety of losses. The website is currently undergoing some changes, but you can still find most of the information that would be helpful. http://www.hygeiafoundation.org/, is geared toward people who have lost a child due to miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. http://goodgrief.org/, the website for The Shiva Foundation also offers a variety of practical advice for those who are grieving. Remember, however that you don't have to be the one grieving to gain something from these sites. They shed tremendous light on the subject of grief for those who desire to help others who are grieving. If that's you, bless you! This world needs more people like you who want to help, even if it means you will hurt more too. We are called to carry one another's burdens, so let's do that.

Coming Back!

2008-12-02T22:35:00.000-05:00

If you checked the dates on the blogposts prior to this one, you saw that the last time I wrote anything here was almost 1 1/2 years ago. Why so long between posts? I began to feel that what I had to say really didn't make a difference--that it was a foolish attempt to try to make something good out of something bad. Who was going to read it anyway? My decision was to stick with a personal journal instead.

So why come back to it now?

I've come to realize that blogging REALLY IS a way to reach out and help other people. And if there was ever a group of people who needed to be reached out to, it would be parents who have lost a child and the people around them. So, I've decided to return to the blogging medium with a new vision and purpose. With a slightly better understanding of how to reach other people through blogging, I hope I can make a difference and help someone else.

Having read numerous books and visited untold websites, I will use this blog to share with others some of the best reading materials to help those who are grieving the loss of someone they love, but especially if that one is a child. I will offer links to some of the best places on the internet to find help and encouragement. My hope is that this blog will be the place where people come to get reliable, trustworthy and solid advice when it comes to dealing with one of the greatest tragedies ever imagined, the death of a child.

Here is a quick link to help people who are grieving make it through the holiday season http://www.griefshare.org/holidays/reasontocelebrate/. This comes from a Christian perspective, so if that would be offensive to you, this may not be the website for you to visit. Perhaps a better source for you would be http://tinyurl.com/5u3xxy

If you are the friend of someone who has recently lost a child and you'd like to help them get through this holiday season, please read this wonderful advice from Compassionate Friends: http://compassionatefriends.net/Press_Releases/press_release_12503.pdf

Those links will at least get you started.

Grieving Differently

2007-06-29T17:50:00.001-04:00

When my husband and I stood outside the hospital and were told Jacob did not survive the car accident, I could not process what I was hearing. On the flight to Athens, I could sense God speaking to my heart saying, "Jacob's O.K. I'm taking care of him. He is going to be all right. Don't you remember how you prayed over and over for Me to place angels of protection around him whenever he got into a car? The angels were there." The inner peace I had during that flight did not match the reality of later being told Jacob was dead. In fact, he died on the way to the hospital.

My internal response was to scream and pound my fists on the chest of the officer who delivered that horrible news. He had to be wrong! Why would he say such an awful lie? Why would he tell me my son was dead when I was going to go into that hospital and tell Jacob everything was OK because Mom and Dad were finally there? I had brought my Bible and planned to read psalms of comfort to him as he slept.

My external response was a barely audible, "What?" For a moment I was suspended in nothingness. Time seemed to stop. Then, I heard my husband cry out, "No! Not Jacob! Not Jacob!" We both dropped to the ground crying "No, please no! Not our Jacob!" At that moment I knew our lives would be different forever. I grabbed my husband's arms and looked him in the eye and said, "We can't let this tear us apart!" I had heard so many horror stories of marriages being destroyed after the sudden death or tragedy involving a child. Our family had just been assaulted and we were going to have to fight to keep us strong and together.

The differences in the grieving that my husband and I experienced began immediately. He continued to cry out while I went completely silent and numb. I lay with arms outstretched on my back on the ground with no will to live. My precious son was no longer alive on this earth, so I no longer wanted to be either. My face was going numb. With arms out to my sides, I thought of Jesus hanging on the cross and felt as though I were being crucified at that moment. My desire was to surrender everything, including my life. Nothng mattered anymore. Everything seemed meaningless in light of my son's death.

When asked if we wanted to see Jacob, my first response was, "No!" I did not want to see my son dead. I wanted my last image of him to be when he was alive, driving away with the wind in his hair and his sunglasses on. How could I possibly want to see him without life? My husband knew immediately he wanted to see him. He needed to say goodbye, and he encouraged me to do the same. I reluctantly agreed. Our hearts broke to see our child, our firstborn, lying on a table with a white sheet over his body. Nothing in the world could ever prepare a parent for a moment like that. All of the love, joy, peace, and exictement that filled my heart that afternoon came pouring out, but there was no life there to receive it. I looked into his sweet face, just crying out to see life, but there was none. I had to turn away. The pain was more than I could bear. I think Michael was able to look longer and he bent down to kiss Jacob's cheek before we left. He uttered words that I will never forget, "Sandy, he's cold." I love my son with all my heart, but I couldn't bring myself to touch his body. I had hugged his warm, tan, beautiful body that afternoon. That's the last touch I wanted until I grab hold of him in Heaven.

When we left the room where Jacob's body was, someone began asking questions regarding whether Jacob was an organ donor. My first thought was, "Don't you dare cut into my son. He's been through enough already. Don't cut him up!" So I said out loud, "No, no, please don't do that!" I knew Jacob had agreed to be an organ donor, and it was clearly stated on his driver's license. Michael lovingly looked at me and said, "But Sandy, this is one last thing Jacob can do to help someone. You know he'd want to do that." I knew he was right, but the thought was hard to accept. That's when the nurse said such painful words to hear, "I'm sorry, he's been gone too long. We couldn't use them anyway." Relief but regret all at once.

When we arrived back at the hotel, we had to tell our daughter that Jacob had not survived, and we knew it would absolutely devastate her. We agreed to tell her Jacob was in Heaven. Michael had the strength and clarity of mind to tell her while I just sat next to her. From the moment we found out about Jacob not surviving the crash, Michael was convinced we needed to get to Raleigh and tell her ASAP, even if that meant driving all the way back to St. Simons. By God's grace and the goodness of other wonderful people, Raleigh had been flown up to Athens shortly after our plane left, so she was already waiting for us at the hotel in Athens.

The following morning was sunny and beautiful. Michael and I decided to go outside for a walk to get some fresh air. I wanted to get out on the campus and walk where Jacob had walked only days earlier. I wanted to be where he had lived and loved life for the past five weeks. For Michael, seeing students and the campus was far too painful. He needed to walk away from campus to get fresh air.

The following days back at our home, many young people were coming by the house. I was grateful for their presence but felt very uncomfortable with them going into Jacob's room. I didn't want anything to be moved or broken. Kids began asking to take mementos from Jacob's room. I didn't want anything to be removed. I wanted everything to stay here. Michael and Raleigh both seemed much more comfortable with having the kids in the room, selecting items to keep as a memory of Jacob. The whole thing seemed to be getting out of control, and we couldn't remember who took what. In the end, I knew it was good for Jacob's friend to have something special of his, and it didn't matter if we had an inventory of where various items went.

Michael, being the writer and speaker in the family, was able to put together something very nice to say at Jacob's memorial service. I found myself scribbling notes an hour before and getting frustrated. In the end, I forgot to bring my notes up front anyway and spoke off the top of my head, making little or no sense at all I'm sure. More than anything, my desire was for people to know how much Jacob loved them, loved life and loved God. My heart said to tell them all how much God loved them too, and that Jacob knew that more than ever now.

In those first days after the memorial service was held, Michael wanted to go to the cemetery where Jacob's ashes were kept. On the third visit to the cemetery, I got up and ran away. I couldn't stand to be in a place that represented his death. I wanted to be out at the beach where Jacob spent most of his summer days. The thought running through my mind each time we walked into the cemetery was, "Why are you looking for the living among the dead?" The cemetery only made me think of Jacob's death. I needed to be in places that reminded me of his life. Michael continued to visit the cemetery every day while I chose to walk the beach. Neither of us were wrong, we just had different ways of finding comfort.

Michael had a hard time looking at pictures of Jacob. I couldn't get enough of them. The only ones I had a hard time looking at were those of him as a young child or baby. Somehow I saw such an innocence and hope for the future in the younger pictures that really hurt to look at, now that all those hopes and dreams had been shattered. But looking at pictures of Jacob taken recently was no problem at all for me. Michael was just the opposite. The only pictures he could even begin to look at were the ones of Jacob much younger. Maybe the whole thing seemed less real. Each time he looked into the face of Jacob as a young man, he was reminded of all that had been lost.

For 99 days straight, Michael wrote beautiful letters to Jacob. They were great therapy and helped him get through some very tough moments. My writing was very limited and it was usually only to other people, telling them about what had happened to Jacob. I could write ABOUT Jacob but not TO Jacob because it hurt too much. Michael was the opposite.

After a few weeks, I was finally able to go into Jacob's room and begin looking through his things. During that time, I came across several little treasures, like his notebook for his philosophy class that had beautiful writings of his that spoke clearly about his faith in God. He wrote about heaven and hell as well. I would lie down on Jacob's bed and begin to cry as I looked around the room and saw all the different things that triggered memories about him. I would cry out to God at those times as well. The experiences were very therapeutic. Michael, on the other hand could not bring himself to go into the room for months. He would barely even look in the direction of the room. Even now, he can't go into the room with any sense of comfort or for any length of time.

Since those early days, we have shifted a bit. I can now visit the cemetery with relative ease. Michael doesn't go nearly as much. I now write a lot about Jacob and to Jacob. Michael hasn't had the time to do it. I can look at the baby pictures now, but it took me nearly 7 months before I could do it, and Michael seems to be able to look at the older pictures of Jacob a little longer.

The differences in grieving are amazing! But the most important thing to remember is that there is NO WRONG WAY to grieve. It is extremely personal and individualized. What is good for one may cause pain for another. Just knowing that ahead of time can help you to understand the conflicting views you may have. If the differences in grief are between you and a spouse, simply do your best to respect the other person's needs and grieve in your own ways. Try not to get mad at the other because he/she can't do what you need to do for yourself. It may hurt to be headed down different paths at times, but always find your way back to one another. Find out what kind of grieving you can do together. Find out ways you can do things together other than grieve. That might help you through those extremely difficult days, weeks, months and years. If you aren't intentional about how you handle your grief you may wake up one day and find yourselves with a great divide between you that may seem too wide to get across.

Remain conncected somehow. Don't allow yourselves to become totally disconnected in the area of physical affection. You have both been through an emotional roller coaster and a beating on your psyche and physical body. Allowing your phsycial affection to die will only compound the difficulties you will have. Restore that part of your relationship as soon as you can. It is great to experience that closeness when you've had someone else you love torn apart from you. I felt guilty the first time, but after experiencing the deep connection with my husband again, I knew it was essential to our wellbeing as a couple. Don't let this part of your life die too.

By the way, I believe the angels I had prayed for were there on the night of Jacob's accident, but their job that night was very different. I believe those angels helped to escort Jacob into Heaven. The peace God put in my heart on the flight? That was real too. God was taking care of Jacob and he was going to be OK. The Bible I had intended to read Psalms from to Jacob ended up being used for reading Psalms to me. Our friend who was with us that night at the hotel, who is a fabulous pastor, read from the Psalms to help me fall asleep. Nothing else would allow my spirit to calm down and rest. I don't think the reading of the Psalms did anything to comfort Michael, however. We are all so very different.

What to Do

2007-06-05T22:00:00.000-04:00

One of the amazing things I learned through this loss was what it means to carry someone else's burden. When someone else stood or sat before me and cried over the death of my child, it literally lifted a piece of my grief from me. How that happened I don't understand, but it happened and I could feel it. Oh, how it moved me to see someone else shed tears for my son. Somehow I was able to breathe a little easier and the heavy darkness that surrounded me seemed to lift just a bit. Please don't think your tears will upset the one who is grieving. I felt honored that someone cared that much. When people didn't cry, it made me wonder if Jacob meant anything to them. I know some people just don't cry in public, but to see someone who was willing to let down their guard for the loss of my child meant more than words can say. No one was doing me any favors by "holding it together" in my presence. Just to see someone's eyes tear up touched me deeply.

I can't even begin to tell you how in awe my daughter, husband and I were when we returned to our home the day after Jacob's accident to see cars lined up and down the road. People filled our home who just wanted to hug us and tell us they loved Jacob. To see my son's favorite elementary school teacher standing in my kitchen just about knocked me to the floor. These people not only brought words of love, but food and drinks and offers to help in any way they could. My dear friend who had the gift of organization and administration began taking people up on their offers. She coordinated efforts of all sorts, including having our cars washed and detailed for the funeral. Several large coolers of iced drinks were brought in. Someone even came to the house to pick up our trash because it was overflowing after a few days. Hotel rooms and homes were arranged and donated in order to house dozens of family members who would be arriving from out of town. Food was coming in left and right, and a neighbor offered her extra refrigerator to store the overflow. A path was worn between our two homes. Believe it or not, one of our dogs was even taken to be groomed during all of this. Friends mopped my floors and washed dishes. They took our dogs out and fed them. Nothing was left undone.

My husband and I didn't have to answer our phone for days because someone was always at the phone taking messages and putting through only the most important calls. I have a notebook that lists all the different people who called and left a message of love or condolence. Another notebook lists all the flowers/plants we received and who sent them. Friends and people I hardly knew did this all. They just wanted to help.

Something that really touched our hearts were the parents/families that came by who had also lost a child. They knew our pain and they wanted to offer whatever they could to help us. One father was very honest, and I appreciated that so much. He said, "It's going to get worse before it gets better." My first thought was that he wasn't helping me feel better, but then I realized the wisdom in his words. He wanted me to know that it was OK to feel worse as time went on and that I didn't have to feel good for anyone on any time schedule. How right he was! Eight months out I still have some days or moments that seem worse than any other day or moment. People we didn't even know up to that point shared with us parts of their journey, both good and bad. They knew what we were going through, and we were blessed by their presence and words of wisdom and experience.

Another very meaningful thing someone did for us in those first days was to bring blank pages of quality lined paper like you might find in a nice personal journal or diary (not just notebook paper) Each page had "Jacob Memories" printed at the top. As friends and family came by the house, they were encouraged to either fill out a page right there or take one with them to return to us later. A table was also set up in the reception area at Jacob's memorial service with these pages and a sign with basic instructions. All the pages were able to be placed in a scrapbook. My husband and I have read those pages over and over. They have brought both laughter and tears. What a sweet gift in the midst of heartache and tragedy!

My only advice about what NOT to do is this: Don't touch anything that belongs to or had anything to do with the one who died. Don't make up their bed, clean up their bathroom, or wash their clothes. Don't move pictures (except if they need to be used at the funeral/memorial service). Consult with the family before changing, cleaning or removing anything. As strange as it may sound, I wanted to have my son's dirty clothes because they smelled like him. I wanted to find strands of his hair in his hairbrush or even in his bed. I wanted to hear his voice in the message he left on our answering machine a few days earlier (which, oddly enough, I had not yet erased just in case anything ever happened to him). The shorts he wore to the beach that day were still hanging in the shower and I wanted them to be there when I got back home. Don't worry if people will be coming into the family's home and you think they might want things clean and tidy. The reminders of the family member who has died are far more important than cleanliness.

I am grateful for EVERYTHING my friends and family did for us, even if they did things I wouldn't have asked them to do. I knew they did it all out of love. Their kindness was so meaningful.

If anything written here has hit you in the wrong way, please know that all I can do is tell you about my experience and how I felt. This is not to say everyone would feel the same things I did, nor that they should. Some things are pretty universal, but our individual responses to death are unique to each of us.

What to Say

2007-06-02T11:16:00.000-04:00

What amazed me in the aftermath of Jacob's death was the power of the spoken word and the unspoken word. Before this experience, I had no idea what to say to someone who had lost a close relative or friend. I still don't have all the answers, but I can share what helped and what hurt me.

Some of the most comforting words for me in those first days were simply, "I am so sorry." No one was responsible for Jacob's death--it was an accident--but I sensed they meant they were sorry for the pain my family was experiencing as a result of his death. To me it seemed like they were sorry that our family would never be the same again and they realized to some extent what a horrible reality that was. Other comforting words were, "I wish I could take away this pain." For me, those words acknowledged that I was hurting and seemed to suggest that the person would do anything they could to change the situation. Comfort was also gained from comments like, "I am going to miss Jacob so much. He was such a good friend and could make anyone smile." To know that someone else really loved and valued him as a friend was encouraging. Within the first few days after his death, it helped so much to hear stories of how he helped someone or did something kind. I wasn't yet ready to hear the "funny" stories, but by day four or five the funny memories helped put a smile on my face. I think the initial horror of losing a child made laughing at anything to do with Jacob somehow inappropriate or upsetting. How could anything seem funny when my child was dead? That was how I responded, but someone else might feel totally different.

The things I didn't want to hear were, "He's in a better place," or "at least he didn't suffer long." Both of those comments were totally irrelevant to me. All I wanted was for my son to be alive and with me. I wanted to be able to touch him and hug him. I also didn't want to hear how God was going to use my son's death to make me a stronger person. How in the world was my gain even close to being worth the loss? I would rather have been a jerk and my son still be alive than a saint with a son that was no longer living. What was it to me to gain anything at all when I had lost one of the most important people in my life--my precious son? Reminding me that I still had my daughter was of no comfort either. Of course I love my daughter and was grateful I hadn't lost her as well (she wasn't in the accident with Jacob), but having her did not make Jacob's death any easier. She is an entirely different person with a different personality and we have a different relationship. I wasn't going to magically "snap back" into a normal role as parent just because there was still another child who needed me.

There was no bitterness or resentment toward the people who said things that didn't settle right with me. How could they know what to say? The day before my son's death, I had no idea what I would say to the parents of Jacob's classmate who died of bone cancer. The very next day I was living their life. Our experiences were different, however. They had to watch their son die slowly. I never had the chance to say goodbye. Both situations were horrible in their own way.

Life Has Changed

2007-06-01T12:38:00.000-04:00

To say "life has changed," is the understatement of the decade, but it really hit home today. It's a Friday afternoon. With my husband at a lunch meeting and my daughter heading out to spend the rest of the day with friends, I was trying to decide what to do. My decision? To go to the cemetery where my son's ashes are. Weeks have passed since my last visit. That's when it hit me, "Oh dear Jesus, on June 1st of last year my family was on it's way to Seattle, Washington for a summer vacation." We were filled with joyful anticipation. Our family has always enjoyed traveling together, and this was going to be our last trip before Jacob, our 18 year old son, headed off to college. We were cherishing every moment. Now, just one year later, I am thinking of going to the cemetery where Jacob's ashes remain. Life can change so much in a year, or even in a moment.
Life really has changed. Yes, there is some good to be found in those changes, but mostly it has been very difficult.