Marginalized

What do you do or say when people are visibly uncomfortable and fall into silence when told a loved one has passed away?

I can forgive you for your facial expressions and even forgive the fellow who took two steps backward and left the conversation uneasily,  but I still don't know how to respond to your discomfort.  I still don't know how to make you feel better about my situation and I'm not even sure I should have to...  

These situations arose mainly on walks with Shelby, my late son Robbie's boxer.  I became a dog owner the day after Robbie stepped into heaven.   

A couple years down the road of my dog ownership,  Shelby developed a disease called degenerative myelopathy.  It's a progressive disease that starts in the hindquarters and slowly moves forward.  To slow its progression it was suggested we purchase some "wheels" for her back legs to keep her moving about.  Despite her handicap, she was a perfectly healthy boxer.   Quite beautiful as well.  It took her some time getting familiar with her wheelchair, it wasn't something she took to immediately.  It took practice for both of us, mainly her.

Because of her disability, many people were curious about her mode of transportation. It was easy to chat about her “wheels" because it wasn't something that you saw every day. 

Many conversations occurred on the beach and in the neighborhood as we took her "therapy" walks.   She was a real topic of conversation and folks always wanted to know how old she was or how long I'd had her or was she from the kennel or a rescue dog.  I would respond she was a rescue of sorts and then I'd explain how I inherited her.  This is when I was left standing alone and marginalized.  My loss branded me.

I think I've experienced every different way a conversation can end.  Oh, we could be having a terrific chat and then once the question is answered, it suddenly ends as if I had thrown a wet blanket on a frisky fire.  Faces go blank, words are mumbled and Shel and I were left standing alone feeling as if we crashed a party.

To make everyone comfortable I shouldn't have to avoid mentioning my late son.   I WANT TO TALK ABOUT HIM.  Heck, I'm not sobbing in front of you.  I'm just remembering someone who was a big part of my life.  Don't alienate me, marginalize me or leave me standing alone on this island. It's lonely enough as I grope to discover how to live a "new" normal life as it is.  

Shelby passed away this year.  The DM monster finally had its way with her.  I no longer have the walks but it hasn't spared me from those moments.   

Please don't think you are sparing the grieving sorrow by not talking about the ones who are missing from their lives.  You are grieving us more by not allowing us to speak their names and remember them lovingly.  Ask us questions, how they died is not one of the questions to ask.  How they lived would be appreciated.  

 I want to share with you how much he loved Shelby.  I want to laugh with you and remember the day he called and told me he had done exactly the opposite of what I had recommended and gone ahead and bought the dog.  I want to tell you how Shelby ate a lightbulb and survived! And a couch to boot!!  I want to share with you how my son would watch her as she played with love in his eyes similar to a father gazing on his firstborn.  He would have been a good father, like his older brother. 

   

  

I'm writing this today for those who share similar experiences and also for those who find themselves unexpectedly in a conversation with a person who is grieving a loss.  Please don't leave us alone.  Smile lovingly, ask us something about our loved one.  Don't drop the conversation and leave.  Learn how to respond.  Walk with them in silence, or place a hand on their shoulder with a gentle squeeze.  Empathy, please. 

I know it's uncomfortable. I'm not saying I'm good at it either.  I bump into losses pretty regular, as we all do on this journey through life.  Take a moment to pause and then respond.  Practice.   "I know it must be hard".  "How are you coping?", "Where do you find your strength?".   Remember we are here for one another.  Be someone whose presence helps someone else take a step closer to healing.  I'll try to be that person, will you? 

Gracious words are a honeycomb,

    sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.

Proverbs 16:24

Man alone near shoreline photo by Raghav Yadav on Unsplash

Spelunking

I've been spelunking….

...exploring the depths of this new normal. I've questioned the peace and dove down into the pain. I examined thoughts that were previously shelved.  I opened the drawer and pulled out each piece of the loss. Once again, I laid each piece out and brought them into the light.  And the jury is in and the verdict is read, I choose to trust God.    

"With the birth of a child our lives change instantly, we love more, we feel more, we hope more.  

"With the death of a child, our lives change beyond all measure.  All we can do is love our children in the time we have them, love them without end."

This quote is from a series titled Grantchester and was a pivotal statement that drew all the haphazard pieces laying out on the table together into one cohesive position where I have chosen to continue to stand.  It gave me renewed permission to embrace the peace I have surrounding the loss of my son Robbie.  

My decision is not for everyone.  We are as unique as our circumstances.  I simply offer this for those who have been given a sense of peace after the greatest loss a parent can walk through, so they would perhaps hesitate before they throw the peace away and opt for continued sadness.

I had the absolute pleasure to raise two boys,  to love two boys and to have the hope that those boys ushered into my life.   

As a woman of faith, I know that I arrived in this world with nothing and will leave this world with nothing.  My faith reminds me that our children are God's, as are we, and that I was given the distinct honor of raising two of God's beloved children.

I have to remember that it wasn't all the times I told them to be careful that kept them alive.    There were events and experiences that were for them alone to wade through that had nothing to do with me but had everything to do with their life and the story God was writing into their lives.   Do I understand the how and the why's in the story?  Not for a minute but I trust the one who writes it. 

It truly breaks my heart to see the already suffering mistakenly claim responsibility for life-changing events that they have no control over. 

"Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" (Matt 6:27) …or if I might have the freedom to add,  can add a single day to their children's life?

My thinking could be and was for a miserable period of time, well, what if I didn't have to raise the boys as a single mother, Robbie might still be alive.  What if Robbie didn't get into that car accident, he may not have decided he liked pain medications, or if he wasn't bitten by that water moccasin… Maybe if Robbie had moved in a third time to live with us he wouldn't have gone out that night and gotten himself killed. The what-if train will drive you into a land of no answers and continued trickery as if you were the one who held control over life and death.  

I was numb for the first two years after Robbie died.  Those years were put into someone else's pocket and they moved away.   I heard and listened to others grieving the loss of their children.  I knew their pain, felt their pain and decided to pull mine out again and feel it,  all the rough edges, sharp edges,  the hardness of it all and the bitterness.  I questioned the peace I had.  I dissected it, doubted it, argued with it and was ready to turn my back on it and begin to wail.   

At one point I even came to the conclusion that something was deeply wrong with me.  That the peace I was experiencing was an illusion I used to escape living in the land of grief.  I went into that land again.  Wore the sadness again and what I found was the sadness didn't fit me anymore.  It was a garment I wore for a time that isn't comfortable now.  Do I still get sad?  Of course I do, but it isn't something that lingers for long.  

"Oh, she really didn't love her son if she can put aside her grief."  So grateful to God that I don't have to live seeking man's approval.   If God gives you peace and says trust me, be thankful.  

The amount of your grief is not commensurate to how much you loved your child.  I learned I don't have to continue to grieve hard to prove I loved Robbie and I don't have to grieve long to prove I LOVED ROBBIE.  If love could have kept him alive he would be living.  But if Love decided to bring him home, I won't turn my back on trust and question His Love.  I know God loves my son greater than I ever could.   

Without faith, this would be impossible.  Oh, my heart breaks for the grieving who don't have hope in a future where every tear will be wiped from their eyes. 

My prayer for all the beloved brokenhearted parents in grief is that the God of all comfort covers your sorrow with a love that heals and grants you a peace that goes beyond any earthly understanding until you hold your loved one again.      

"I will hold you in my heart Robbie until I can hold you in heaven".  

Cave Photo by Devon Janse van Rensburg on Unsplash