Reprinted from a post on my Facebook page. 

 

 

 

Mother's Day

 Mother's Day, Father's Day, Christmas, birthdays, all the Hallmark holidays are tough, no matter how many years have passed since the person you loved died. In my case, I can speak from my 12-year experience after my daughter suddenly died, it doesn't get easier. The sadness does change though and that is because you change and you learn to handle the pain in a way that works for you.  Just like the article below states, you start to move forward with your life (one day at a time) and you take your loved one with you; she/he never leaves your heart. 

I am always grateful for my family and friends who continue to mention Laura by name and share memories of her with me. As I have said before in this blog, hearing her name is music to my ears. 

I read this Dear Amy yesterday on Mother's Day and I felt I had to share the mother's message and the helpful response from Ms. O'Loughlin.   

The article below was reprinted from the Bergen Record on Sunday, May 9, 2021.   Copyright (c)2021 The Bergen Record, Edition 05/09/2021

Recognition days are tough for grieving parents

Dear Amy: With Mother’s Day and Father’s Day approaching, I want to share my perspective.

My husband and I lost our only child. I know people are hesitant to wish me a happy Mother’s Day because they don’t know if it is appropriate, or whether it will cause pain. I am still a mother, but my child isn’t here anymore.

It’s so devastating that there isn’t even a word to define a parent who has lost a child.

Yes, please wish me a happy Mother’s Day. After all, once a mother, always a mother.

– A Mother’s Heart

Dear A Mother’s Heart: For insight, I reached out to The Compassionate Friends (compassionatefriends.org), the national organization that has helped many grieving families to connect with one another, learn from one another, and to feel less alone as they walk the path no parent ever wants to take.

Shari O’Loughlin, CEO of The Compassionate Friends, experienced the loss of her own beloved son, Connor. She told me, “Many parents who have experienced the death of their only child (or all their children) appreciate the acknowledgment of their parenthood on these special days. Their love and feelings of being a parent don’t just disappear after their loss.

“Acknowledging the child they cherished and their journey of parenthood can feel supportive. Continuing bonds are experienced by many parents regardless of the age of their child who died. They are a normal part of healthy grieving. We don’t ‘move on’ from our child who died, but rather we move forward with them in a different way.”

“Sometimes people say nothing because they are afraid of causing

hurt. But saying nothing frequently makes bereaved parents feel even more isolated and alone.”

“Friends and family members can approach parents by asking an openended question: ‘How is Mother’s Day for you?’, giving a parent the opportunity to describe it in their own words and in their own way.

“And then – even if they don’t know how to respond, they can say, ‘I don’t have the words, but I want you to know that I’m thinking about you, and that I care.’ “Here’s what NOT to do: Don’t say, ‘At least…. (you can have more kids; or – you had him in your life for a while…’). Any sentence starting with ‘At least’ tends to diminish the reality of the experience for parents who have lost children.

“Use the child’s name and let the parent know something you remember or loved about her child,” O’Loughlin adds. “Our children’s existence impacted this world. They had identities and relationships, leaving a legacy from their lives. Using their name signifies to parents that they will never be forgotten, and is often one of the best gifts you can give them.”

 

The wisdom of Pooh

I am very lucky because I have some dear "piglets" in my life. The first year plus after Laura's death, I lived in a fog and spent most of my non-working hours in bed. My dear friends helped me through those days. Sometimes talking, sometimes just listening to me, a mother with a very broken heart. And sometimes, like Piglet, just being with me and no words spoken. 

Tomorrow it is my turn to visit a friend and be her piglet. I hope I will be as caring and understanding as Pooh's dear friend. 

 "Today was a Difficult Day," said Pooh.

There was a pause.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Piglet.

"No," said Pooh after a bit. "No, I don't think I do."

"That's okay," said Piglet, and he came and sat beside his friend.

"What are you doing?" asked Pooh.

"Nothing, really," said Piglet. "Only, I know what Difficult Days are like. I quite often don't feel like talking about it on my Difficult Days either.

"But goodness," continued Piglet, "Difficult Days are so much easier when you know you've got someone there for you. And I'll always be here for you, Pooh."

And as Pooh sat there, working through in his head his Difficult Day, while the solid, reliable Piglet sat next to him quietly, swinging his little legs...he thought that his best friend had never been more right."

A.A. Milne

 

Today, April 17, 2021, 12 years, 5 months, and 9 days after Laura’s death, I felt confident enough to make the decision to relocate the alter I created in her memory from the living room to the second floor. I felt it was time to move the pictures, angels, prayer cards, candles, name necklace, stones with inspirational words painted on them, and the Precious Moments figurine—a girl holding a dove up to the sky dated with Laura’s angel year printed on it. I even moved her Mickey Mouse water glass, which I still keep filled just in case she is nearby and thirsty. 

I am not saying I removed all her pictures because I never will do that. I found new places to display them in the living room, along with the small lantern that Danielle, my daughter-in-law, gave me as a Christmas present a few years ago. The lantern is a keepsake that finds its way to the dining room table for the Christmas season. You probably have seen the lovely message on many memorial items that reads, “Because someone we love is in Heaven, there’s a bit of Heaven in our home.” 

I am at peace with my decision. Now every trip up and down the staircase I am greeted by her beautiful smile.

 

Forever loved