Friday, December 25, 2015

Wherever you Go My Love Will Find You



 Even in the heavens above baby boy, do you remember? I told you so!

  

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Christmas Without You By Angela Miller

Christmas Without You By Angela Miller

 This is what Christmas without you feels like seven years later.
I miss you. I always miss you, even when I don’t say it, I’m always thinking it. It’s an ache that perpetually aches– in my heart, my head, my soul– deep within my bones. The you-shaped hole in my heart will always remain.
There are few people left in my life who knew you when you were here. Few people who know or say your name.
I’m not sure why that is. Honestly, I’ve stopped wondering about most of life’s whys. The whys and what ifs, they all end the same– a dizzying clusterfuck of senselessness that will never make sense to me, no matter how long I ruminate. It all ends in one big, giant headache. That and a whole lot of suffering mixed with endless tears. With no consolation prize, and with no more answers than when I first started asking why, seven, long years ago.
Like that song says, “It’s just a different kind of Christmas this year.” Different, is certainly one way to put it. I could also fill-in-the-blank with a number of other descriptive words, that would all be equally accurate. The thing is, Christmas without you isn’t just one emotion. It’s a jumble of emotions, that still leave me spinning. You’d think after seven years of living without you, I’d be getting the hang of it. But honestly? I’m not. There’s no “getting the hang” of living a life sentence without you. Grief still has a way of sneaking up on me without notice, grinchingly lurking around corners, and ruining otherwise “good” moments. Especially during the holidays. Grief is a bitch like that.
But here’s the other thing. There are so many incredible, beautiful, amazing moments I ache to share with you. Every good, “happy” moment always has one thing missing: you. And without you, it really knocks the goodness/happiness/joy o’meter down more than a few notches, you know? At best, life is bittersweet. Never again will it be purely happy and joyful like it once was. When you were here, and we were together. I had everything I’d ever dreamed of and then some. You, were a dream come true.
When I look at old pictures of me from “before,” I sob. It’s painful to look into her eyes. That sparkle. That mom. The normal one. The non-bereaved one. The one not perpetually weighed down emotionally, pinned between a rock and a hard place, by this incessant boulder of grief. The one that was all kinds of happy and joyful and mom to the nth degree. I’m not that mom anymore, sweet boy. I wish I was, I wish that mom was still in me somewhere. But she died the day you did. With you, she went. Together, we soar.
Yet, I’m still a mom. To you, and to the rest of your siblings. And I wonder? Do they know? Do they know how different of a mom they have now from the mom I was before? And if I could meet both of us, side by side, the mom I am now, and the mom I was then– would I really like the old one better? Or is it just that I wish everything could go back to the way it was?– before the nightmare took over? Or is it, I wish with everything within in me, that I could rewrite the ending. That I could edit this story to my heart’s content.
Because this story? This life? It’s not the one I wanted, dreamed of, planned for– and the holidays emphasize that fact loud and clear, like wretched nails on a chalkboard. This is not anything close to the life I had planned for us. Yet no matter what I do, I can’t go back. I can’t change the ending. There are no rewrites. No revisions. No do-overs. Unfortunately we weren’t given that choice.
This. is. it.
Learning how to live with it, this life I didn’t want, this life without you, is painfully hard. And painfully lonely. And painfully beautiful.
All the ways you’ve changed me, leave me speechless. You, sweet boy, are my everything. And death will never change that.
The truth is, this year I can actually smile at the Christmas cards. The cookies even taste a little bit sweeter than they did in years past. I can laugh with your brothers, and not feel guilty about it. And yet? There is still an undercurrent of sadness beneath it all. Our table will always have one empty chair, no matter how full it appears to be. Something that only others who have walked this path can understand.
No matter how “good” life seems at times, I always wonder how much better it could be, if you were here with us. No matter what, you are always missing. No matter what, my heart will always ache for you. No matter what, life will only be as good as it can possibly be, minus you.
To me, that’s just not good enough. Yet, somehow, I have to accept that’s as good as it’s gonna get.
In the grief world, there is a lot of talk of “acceptance,” and I wonder if I have reached the so-called promise land? If I’m honest, I accept that you’re gone. I accept that you’re never coming back. I accept that I’m a bereaved mom. I live in that reality. But, if acceptance means liking those facts, or coming to peace with your absence, I’m not sure I’ll ever get there. And really, should that even be the goal?
I think being a bereaved parent is a whole lot of holding all the shit, and all the joy together in a broken open heart. It’s messy. It’s complicated. I’m still learning how to do it.
This I know: I love more– deeper– than I ever dreamed possible. And, I cry more than I ever dreamed possible too. The tears don’t seem to be running out any time soon. That’s just real life post-losing you.
Being honest about it– this thing called grief– is really all I can do. I can’t pretend it’s not this way. I can’t pretend I’m “ok,” that I’m “over” you or “healed,” or that I miss you any less now that it’s been seven years. None of that is true. I can’t pretend I like being a bereaved mom, or that I don’t miss my old self, my old life, my precious, one and only you. I can’t pretend I’m wiser, more enlightened, or more of anything, really. I can’t pretend that any of this is easy. I can’t pretend I even know how to do this.
What I can say is– I’m better for knowing you, loving you, and missing you. You make me the best me. Our love does that. Your love sustains me. When I think I can’t do it anymore, our love reminds me I can do anything. I’ve already done the hardest thing there is. And no matter how much my heart aches for you– during the holidays, or any day of the year– I am thankful for you, eternally grateful, that out of all the moms in the sea,
You chose me.

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Monday, November 9, 2015

Wildfeather Wellness By Franchesca Cox

 Franchesca Cox , love her! Fellow mama of loss. Beautiful writer, healer of the soul.
 
 
Wildfeathers Wellness.
 
 
 
 
                                
Grief is the New Black is a six week workshop designed especially for bereaved mothers and is written by a fellow loss mother, artist and writer, Franchesca Cox (former Editor and Founder of Still Standing Magazine). The purpose of the entire workshop series is to work through your grief in a tangible way, and secondly to find a safe haven in our online community page. This workshop is ongoing, which means you can start at anytime. The minute you sign up, you will have access to the material, and receive a weekly emails from that day forward for six weeks.
This is part one to the entire Choosing Your Breath workshop and has been especially designed for those early on in their grief after losing a child. This workshop will guide you through the new world of grief and help you make sense of some of the things going on in your head and heart. Whether your loss was a tragic happening or something you saw coming for months or years, there is nothing that can prepare you for the life you are asked to live without them. The material is raw, and explorative as it takes you into various avenues of grief so that you can thoroughly do your “Grief Work” on your own timeline. It is also welcoming for those who might not have dealt with or were unable to fully express their new grief right after their loss.

Who is this for?

This workshop is recommended for newly bereaved mothers, or those who may have not been able to deal with grief right after loss, but ultimately if the description above sounds like something you might benefit from, it is for you.

How much will this cost?

This workshop is donation based. These types of workshops for grieving communities given elsewhere normally run anywhere from $29-$90 but the goal here is to make it accessible to those who need it most. The follow-up workshops to Grief is the New Black are each $15, but you can give what you can for this one, or nothing at all.

I’m interested, but what can I expect in this workshop?

This workshop is 100% done online, and can be done on your own time frame. You do not have to complete the tasks within the six week period. The materials will be accessible to you through download which will enable you to continue to work long after our workshop is over. The prompts to work through your grief are recommended to reap the most benefits from the workshop, but still completely optional. You also will not be “turning in” any work that you do, however there will be place to share what you have created or done with the weekly prompt’s in a secret Facebook group, if you feel like sharing. You can engage as much or as little as you wish in our group. This workshop is here to serve YOU in your grief – wherever that might be and whatever that might look like.

Additionally, you can expect:

+ to be given suggestions for practical ways to work through different obstacles we face in grief (i.e. anger, lack of trust of your own body, dealing with the real world after loss, etc)
+ weekly ideas for self-care
+ digital prints and coloring pages that you are free to print off at your leisure with quotes or meditative thoughts.
+ and at the end of the workshop you will receive a PDF of the entire workshop for you to keep forever
What others are saying about this workshop:
“Thank you so much for putting my emotions down in black and white. It helps to pinpoint what seems foggy in my head at times.”
“I LOVE this workshop and every week hits me.”
“I actually find myself going back to old workshops and retweeking them. It’s really therapeutic!”
“Thank you for this workshop!! I thought I was healing in my own but I wasn’t! This has really helped me so much. Thank you for taking your hard things and turning them into something beautiful.”

What materials do I need?

In short, this workshop is meant to be accessible and it is highly encouraged that you use what you already have in your home. For example: a spiral notebook, a journal, or even an old hardbound book to turn into an art journal (directions for this will be given), any type of paints, pens, markers, pencils, newspaper, doilies, the list goes on. For art journaling and all of the prompts given you hardly need to spend anything to participate.                      
                                


                          http://www.wildfeatherswellness.com/grief-is-the-new-black/


                                               When gratitude feels impossible

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Healing Quotes

“Our mind thinks of death, our heart thinks of life, and our soul thinks of immortality.” - Sri Chinmoy

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Healing Quotes

“There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”   - Thornton Wilder

Thursday, September 3, 2015

Healing Quotes

“They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.  Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still.” - William Penn

There Are Days....

There are days when I ache inside for you so badly all I want to do is scream!
And then there are those days where if I had you here I would shake you so badly and say to you, what the hell were you thinking? What the hell my son?

There are days when I feel like a rat in a cage chasing the ever lasting piece of my broken heart.
And then there are days when I feel as if I shall never again see your face, touch your skin, hear your voice or have you near, those are the weakest days when my faith is all but gone and it seems as if life cannot possibly ever go on, not go on without you!!!

There are those days when I am paralyzed by absolute and total fear. Fear for me, fear for you, fear for what lies ahead and for what has gone behind us. There are those days when I find myself swallowed by darkness, drowning in heartbreak as well as tears.

There are days when I cry a few tears and days when I cry buckets of tears, followed by more buckets of tears. I am among many I fear. And I go on and on and on, and there are days where, I just don't know how!

There are days where I am so uncertain of who the hell I am, who the hell I was and who I will become. I cannot find a me that is just OK without you. There are days where that has brought me to insanity. There are many days that it has brought me to my knees.

There are days where there is that ever loving God forsaken façade that I exhibit, and there are many days, where everybody can see right through that façade, just like looking through glass. Its the, oh hi how are you? Oh I am fine, yeah right.... look that I have. Believe me since that day I have never been quite fine at all. And to tell you the truth there's not enough therapy on earth or in the heavens above to shake that day out of my head.

Complicated grief, no people its not just complicated, its extreme! So extreme that the heart and mind cannot possibly come to terms with it! So extreme that it tears you apart from the inside out, starting with your heart! There are days when I want to explode, not just literally, physically explode. Days where my head hurts so bad from the thoughts and the inability to stop them that it feels as if I may drop!

There are days when I am so physically drained that I just want to go to bed and stay there, but I push on. That is the moral here of this story I guess.....we must push on.

Because there are those days when I close my eyes and I remember his smile, his laugh, his cry, his voice, his kind of funny, his breath against my face when he kissed me goodbye. Because there are those days when I would have loved to have had a hundred thousand years with our son but I consider myself immensely blessed to have had "almost 17!" And there are those days when I remember to celebrate the small things I have remaining, the memories. And the big things, the really precious gifts that this sweet, sweet soul has blessed us with.

There are those days where I just have to leave it in the hands of God, and just have faith because that is really all that I have.

Monday, August 31, 2015

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Coping With The Loss After Suicide



                                                         https://youtu.be/iMc79i9q2Uk

Friday, August 14, 2015

Life After Suicide

                                       
                                                 https://youtu.be/NgGslNMW6nw

The Loss Of A Child To Suicide



                                                      https://youtu.be/vkSgqw96DlE

Rick Warren returns to pulpit after son's suicide: "I was in shock"

"This does not make sense!"
 
 
 

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Friday, May 1, 2015

A Beautiful Mess

A Beautiful Mess

"There are moments when I look around and wonder, “Is this my life? How did I get here?” I never wanted my child to die. I never wanted to be sitting here staring at her picture grieving the fact that I will never hold her again this side of Heaven. I never wanted to have to visit the grave of one of my children. I did not plan this. This was not supposed to be in my life, was it?"

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Pain Is Inevitable-Suffering Is Optional

"I don’t believe that time heals all wounds. Time simply goes by us. Time becomes one year, five years, ten years, and now, in our case, decades. Time passes and our lives continue day-after-day, whether we want them to or not. What time does do is give us the space to process our thoughts and choose to heal. If we honestly look at ourselves in the mirror, we realize that grieving doesn’t just go away, and existing in a nothing-less life is totally exhausting. We see others living life around us; and we secretly want to be like them. We choose to step from the emptiness to something half-way normal again. We re-invest in life."

http://www.opentohope.com/pain-is-inevitable-suffering-is-optional/

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

A Mothers Letter To Heaven


A MOTHERS LETTER TO HEAVEN"

I SIT AND WRITE THIS LETTER
WITH TEARS RUNNING DOWN MY FACE
BUT I KNOW DEEP IN MY HEART
YOU ARE IN A SPECIAL PLACE

I THINK BACK TO THE TIME
WHEN GOD GAVE YOU TO ME
I HELD YOU IN MY ARMS
AS HAPPY AS I COULD BE

FIRST WORDS FIRST STEP FIRST SMILE
I WAS THERE TO SEE YOU GROW
YOU GAVE ME SUCH HAPPINESS
MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER KNOW

TEENAGE YEARS YOU HAD YOUR FEARS
BUT TOGETHER WE GOT THROUGH
IN GOOD TIMES AND IN BAD TIMES
I WAS ALWAYS THERE FOR YOU

I (WATCHED) YOU GROW AND LOVED YOU SO
SO PROUD OF WHAT YOU HAD BECOME
YOU WOULD ALWAYS BE MY BABY
AND I WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR MUM

THE DAY YOU DIED HOW MUCH I CRIED
MY HEART WAS BROKE IN TWO
HOW COULD I LIVE IN A WORLD
HOW COULD I GO ON WITHOUT YOU

BUT I KNOW YOU ARE STILL HERE
I FEEL YOU NEAR ME EVERYDAY
YOU LEAVE WHITE FEATHERS EVERYWHERE
I KNOW (YOU'RE) NEVER FAR AWAY

I SWEAR I HEAR YOUR VOICE
TELLING ME I LOVE YOU MUM
ONE DAY WE WE WILL BE TOGETHER
I KNOW THAT DAY WILL COME

REST IN PEACE MY CHILD
I SEND THIS LETTER WITH ALL MY LOVE
UPON THE WINGS OF AN ANGEL
TO HEAVEN UP ABOVE

KNOWING DEATH IS NOT THE END
HELPS TO EASE THE PAIN
BY HEAVENS GATE I KNOW YOU WAIT
TILL WE ARE TOGETHER ONCE AGAIN

~Author Unknown
~via Grieving Mothers

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

The Memory



Tuesday, April 14, 2015

A Dad Hurts Too


Friday, April 3, 2015



Wednesday, April 1, 2015

To My Dearest One On Earth




To My Dearest One On Earth
by Love Letters to Heaven
on Thursday, June 9, 2011 at 6:30 pm


My dearest one, I'm sending this letter from above.
I know right now (you're) missing me, I can feel your love.
You think about my birthday, and the day I had to leave.
But always remember this: I don't wish for you to grieve.

When I wrote my first letter, from Heaven on that day,
I wanted you to understand, that I was doing okay.
I knew the hurt of losing me, would take time for you to heal,
And even though it's been awhile, to you, it seems unreal.

But Mom, here in Heaven, with Jesus by my side,
The Golden Gate will open, when you come here to reside.
I know it's difficult for you, to understand your pain,
But once you arrive in Heaven, it will all be explained.

It's okay for you to cry, just let the tears give way,
Then tilt your head and look above, you'll feel my touch today.
Just keep the faith, believe my words, you'll see the morning light.
God and I are with you, every morning, noon and night.

~by Love Letters to Heaven
~via Grieving Mothers

Monday, March 30, 2015

Always In My Heart!


Sunday, March 29, 2015


Saturday, March 28, 2015

Why?

Simply love this poem:

“Why? Suicide is comprised of seven letterswhose sum is greater than the parts.Within it’s narrow confineslies...
Posted by Losing a son to suicide, A poetic journey through grief on Thursday, March 26, 2015

Beautiful Poem


Another attempt at poetry to express my feelings, dedicated to my beautiful boy Christian Thor Miltersen,...

Posted by Rob Miltersen on Saturday, March 28, 2015

Tuesday, March 17, 2015


Friday, March 6, 2015


LongingHow few are the tears of a lifetimewhen compared to eternal joy.This suffering will be but a memoryof a...

Posted by Losing a son to suicide, A poetic journey through grief on Thursday, March 5, 2015

Thursday, March 5, 2015