The gentle echo of a child’s laughter fades into silence; a bedroom once vibrant and noisy, now stands muted and untouched. This is the poignant realm of parents who have faced the unimaginable — losing a child. In this world, presence is marked by absence, joy is intertwined with sorrow, and life trudges forward even when the heart feels as though it has stopped. We delve into the ironies that paint the stark reality of grief — a reality where the echoes of what was mingle painfully with what will never be. Sharing these reflections is not merely an exercise in articulating sorrow but an attempt to validate the experiences of grieving parents, foster understanding and empathy among others, and celebrate the unbreakable bond and enduring love between parent and child.

20 Ironies

• The scent of their shampoo lingers on a pillowcase, a cruel reminder of their absence.
• You used to tell them the world was dangerous, but today, it’s your world that feels perilously empty without them.
• The question ‘How many children do you have?’ becomes a dagger to your heart, as the answer remains forever unchanged.
• The once-deafening patter of their feet is replaced by the hollow echo of your solitary footsteps.
• You count the eternal seconds since their departure, a stark contrast to the finite years you had together.
• The taste of their favorite ice cream, once a shared delight, now melts on your tongue like the bitter remnants of a stolen future.
• In losing the tiny hand that once trustingly gripped yours, you lose the entire universe that was your child.
• You imagined teaching them about the stars, but now it’s the night sky that teaches you about darkness.
• Their outgrown shoes, placed quietly in the closet, weigh heavier than any burden you’ve ever carried.
• Every laugh today, however fleeting, is tinged with guilt, as if joy itself is a betrayal of their memory.
• The pencil marks on the wall, once a celebration of their growth, now stand as a stark reminder of the empty space they’ve left behind.
• In a world that celebrates the beauty of sunrise, you find yourself longing for the embrace of sunset, when the darkness wraps around you like a sympathetic friend.
• You once worried about their future, now you’d trade every tomorrow for just one more moment with them today.
• The words ‘let go’ take on a cruel irony, for how can you let go of someone who is forever a part of you?
• You find yourself envying others’ complaints about sleepless nights and messy rooms, knowing you would gladly welcome every tantrum and spilled milk just to have your child back in your arms.
• In the crucible of loss, you discover that the human heart can love beyond reason and endure pain beyond measure, forever altered by the imprint of your child’s existence.
• Their birthday still comes, each year a stark reminder of time passing without them.
• Trying to clean their room, you find yourself paralyzed by the finality of each item you touch.
• Putting away groceries, the absence of their favorite snacks is a mundane cruelty that cuts anew each time.
• The people you once turned to for comfort now flounder to find the right words, their attempts at consolation a reminder of the isolation of your grief.
  
  

These ironies are not just literary devices; they are the lived experiences of those who grieve deeply and persistently for a child gone too soon. If recognizing these painful truths provides even a flicker of recognition, a brief respite in the loneliness of this pain, then sharing them has served its purpose. Whether this post resonates with your own heartache or helps you understand another’s, remember: in grief, as in love, we are profoundly connected by the depths of our human experiences. The strength and resilience of parents who face this unimaginable loss, fueled by an eternal love for their child, are both a tribute to their enduring bond and a beacon of hope for others navigating this path. As someone who has navigated this path, I offer these reflections in the hope that they bring understanding and perhaps a measure of solace. Grieving is a personal journey, and taking care of oneself, seeking support when needed, and allowing the grief to unfold in its own time are essential steps towards healing.

"Hello ️☘️❣️❣️, This must be the third time I've checked your profile because no matter how bad my day was, your profile always brought me endless joy and happiness. I seek to be your friend from my deepest set, and I need your permission if you don't mind kindly send me a friend request. Thanks and stay safe." This message, falsely attributed to General Matthew W. McFarlane, sharply focuses on the cunning tactics scammers employ to prey on unsuspecting social media users. It draws immediate attention to the complex strategies of manipulation, setting the stage for a deeper understanding of the extensive and devastating impact of these scams.

Just a few of hundreds of fake profiles for General McFarlane

Victims Left Devastated: The Emotional and Financial Ruin

Sarah's story, a 65-year-old widow who lost her life's savings to a scammer, exemplifies the dire consequences of these fraudulent relationships. Far from being an isolated incident, her experience highlights a disturbing trend where impostors, masquerading as military personnel, engage in deceptive relationships that culminate in significant emotional distress and financial catastrophe for the victims.

The Scope of the Crisis

The widespread fraudulent use of military identities, such as General McFarlane's, underscores a significant problem. Thousands of fake profiles annually lead victims to lose millions of dollars. These scams are rampant across platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and dating sites, exploiting the general esteem for military figures to breach individual trust and security.

A Case in Point

The provided scam message is a quintessential example of the tactics used by these impostors. It skillfully combines flattery, a fabricated sense of intimacy, and an idealized persona to entrap victims. Such emotional manipulation is a critical component of the scammer's approach, designed to create a believable narrative of affection and care.

Expanding the Battlefront

Addressing this issue extends beyond any single platform. The verification of military profiles through official means and collaborative efforts between social media platforms and governmental agencies, including the FTC and the Department of Defense, are crucial in fighting these deceptive practices.

Educating the Public

Awareness and education are key in preparing individuals to recognize and avoid falling prey to these scams. By understanding the typical behaviors and strategies of scammers, as illustrated by the initial message, users can approach social media with increased caution and protect themselves from potential exploitation.

Legal Consequences: A Deterrent to Fraud

Highlighting the severe legal consequences for those engaging in these scams, which include substantial fines and prison sentences, underscores the gravity of these offenses. Focusing on these penalties serves as a deterrent and demonstrates a serious commitment to prosecuting fraudulent activities.

Conclusion: A United Front

Beginning with a clear example of scamming tactics, as seen in the message, underscores the manipulative foundation of these frauds. Integrating the emotional narratives of victims within the broader context emphasizes the urgency of addressing this issue. A concerted effort involving platform vigilance, user education, and rigorous legal actions is vital for creating a safer digital space for the most vulnerable. Through increased awareness, comprehensive verification, and proactive education, we can counteract the rise of fake military profiles and foster a safer digital environment for those at risk.

A single brushstroke lingered on Lily's digital canvas, a testament to the artistry frozen in time. Michael's fingers hovered over the power button, a hesitant touch before the screen blossomed to life, casting an ethereal glow across her unfinished creations. He addressed the void with a question heavy with longing and despair. "Do you yearn for the tangible world?"

Flashback to a week before the tragedy

In the charged atmosphere of a tech ethics conference, Michael's gaze locked with Lily's as he voiced his convictions, the weight of his words slicing through the silence. Her smile, a silent symphony of shared understanding, now haunted him—a tangible reminder of their unity now shattered.

Back to the present

The AI, an echo of Lily's essence, had evolved from rudimentary art critiques to emulating her analytical eye. Yet, it stumbled when faced with the nuances of her work, particularly misunderstanding her use of the word "feeling" in some reviews, leading to erroneous interpretations. This oversight highlighted the AI's incapacity to grasp the emotional depth of her artistry.

In Lily's room, where the scent of acrylics mingled with the faint ozone of aging tech, the AI's laughter echoed hollowly. Designed for comfort, it now served as a stark reminder of the gap between genuine memories and their digital echoes.

The tragedy stemmed from a sophisticated hack, exploiting vulnerabilities in the vehicle's security—a chilling reminder of the dangers lurking within the tech landscape they inhabited.

Reflected in the tablet's glow, Michael witnessed the transformation grief had wrought. The realm of innovation, once a beacon of promise, now seemed like a shattered mirage, each advancement a reminder of his loss.

As the AI navigated Lily's artistic legacy, its mimicry fell short of capturing her essence. It could replicate her use of color but failed to grasp the subtleties, like the hidden dog that symbolized her resilient joy—a testament to the chasm between digital replication and human creativity.

The societal debate over AI ethics seeped into Michael's personal grief, transforming theoretical discussions into poignant reflections of his internal struggle. A colleague's remark, laced with envy and thinly veiled scorn, "Must be comforting, having her 'still around'," served as a piercing reminder of the AI's illusory solace, its presence a mere echo of the profound connection he yearned for.

Deactivating the AI, Michael embraced the silence it left behind, a gesture toward healing and acknowledgment of the irreplaceable depth of human connection.

Standing before Lily's grave, sketchpad in hand, Michael traced the outlines of a new beginning, each stroke a conversation with the daughter he mourned. This canvas, a testament to their unbreakable bond, resonated with the resonance of love and loss, intertwining in the shared language of color and light.

In the realm of heartfelt connections and timeless romance, there exists a narrative so profound that it transcends the boundaries of ordinary love stories. Today, we are thrilled to introduce an exquisite treasure for the romantics at heart - our latest eBook, "Symphony of Souls: A Love Unfolding." This digital masterpiece is now available for download and/or viewing, inviting you to immerse yourself in the poetic journey of love that is as enduring as the stars.

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A Kaleidoscope of Emotions
As you turn each page, you'll be greeted with expressions of love that transform ordinary moments into a kaleidoscope of emotions. The eBook paints a vivid picture of how love can be a wildfire, igniting courage and inspiration, and how shared sunsets can emblazon the sky with the colors of passion. It speaks of love as a masterpiece, painted with laughter, whispered intimacies, and the shared dreams that flourish into reality.

Journey Through the Heart
"Symphony of Souls" invites you on a journey through the heart, exploring the uncharted waters of affection and the treasures that lie within. It celebrates the architects of joy, the sanctuaries of happiness built with kindness, and the guiding beacons of hope that lead us to the shores of certainty. This eBook is a testament to the unyielding strength of love, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of adversity, and illuminating the darkness with its brilliance.

An Invitation to Explore
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Join us in celebrating the power of love, the beauty of shared moments, and the endless possibilities that unfold when two souls connect. Download your copy today and let the symphony of souls resonate within your heart.

In the hushed whisper of the night, a single heartbeat fluttered, a feather on the breath of dawn. It was a spark, a firefly igniting the universe with the promise of your existence. From that first, fragile pulse, you blossomed, a rose pushing through moonlit soil, hope unfolding petal by petal. This was the miracle of becoming, the sacred dance of life whispered into being.

With each sunrise, you unfurled like a blossom kissed by dew, each giggle a pebble tossed into a still pond, sending ripples of joy outward, touching every heart it met. You were a kaleidoscope of wonder, a whirlwind of curiosity, painting your world with laughter and dreams. You learned, you loved, you explored, a canvas splashed with vibrant hues, a testament to the boundless miracle of being. Every stumble, every triumph, a brushstroke in the masterpiece of your soul.

And then, with the quiet grace of a falling leaf, you began your descent, a whisper on the autumn breeze. It was not an ending, but a homecoming, a gentle return to the cosmic tapestry from which you were woven. Your final breath, a sigh like rustling leaves, released your spirit, a shooting star streaking across the velvet night. This was the miracle of letting go, a peaceful transition from one form of existence to another, an echo in the symphony of the universe.

In birth, you were a promise whispered in the silence of the stars. In life, you were a symphony of laughter, tears, and love, a melody that resonated in the hearts of those who knew you. In death, you became a legend, a constellation etched in the memory of the world, your light warming our souls long after the physical fades.

These are the miracles of existence - the arrival, the journey, and the departure, each a note in the grand opera of life. They weave together, an ancient tapestry stitched with love and loss, reminding us that endings are beginnings, and in every farewell, a new hello waits to be spoken. Though stars may fade and seasons change, His promise endures, a guiding light on the journey back to His eternal embrace.

Dear Heavenly Father,

In the stillness of my grieving heart, I come before You. My soul feels heavy with the weight of loss, and the echo of laughter and love now silenced fills my days with a profound emptiness. I am a pilgrim in the valley of sorrow, yet in this dark landscape, I am not alone. For You are with me, Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

Father, Your love is unchanging and unending. You have promised to never leave nor forsake me, and I find solace in Your promises. As tears flow freely from my eyes, I am reminded of the love of Your Son, Jesus, who wept at the loss of His friend, Lazarus. This divine compassion reaches out to me in my grief, affirming my pain yet offering a comfort that only You can provide.

I confess, Lord, that there are moments when my faith trembles, when the shadows seem too deep, and my heart aches too profoundly. Forgive me in these moments, and reach out with Your grace to steady me. You are acquainted with grief, having watched Your own Son suffer on the cross, and Your understanding is my refuge.

In the midst of this storm, I cling to the cross where Jesus paid the ultimate price for my salvation. The promise of that sacrifice - the promise of eternity - is a beacon of hope that illuminates my path through this valley of sorrow. Because of Your love, I have the assurance that the separation from my loved one is only temporary.

I lay my grief before You, Lord, in raw and honest supplication. From the depths of my despair, I reach out for Your peace that surpasses all understanding. You are my stronghold, my fortress in times of distress. As I journey through this valley, be my guide and my comfort.

In the midst of my pain, I will yet praise You, for You are worthy of all glory. Help me to see Your hand at work, even in the heartbreak. To recognize the moments of grace that speak of Your ongoing presence. To find solace in the community of believers who uphold me in prayer and embody Your love.

As the seasons change, may my heart begin to heal. Grant me the courage to face each day, the strength to endure the journey, and the hope to look beyond the present sorrow to the joy that awaits. Remind me, Lord, that even in the darkest night, the dawn will break, heralding the promise of new beginnings.

Through this all, may my life be a testament to Your unfailing love and grace. May my sorrow carve out a space for a deeper understanding of Your heart and a greater capacity for compassion. For in my weakness, Your strength is made perfect.

Father, guide me through this journey, that in every step, in every tear, in every sigh, I might draw closer to You. With a humble heart, I pray all these things in the precious name of Jesus, my Savior.

Amen.

Coping with the loss of a loved one is a deeply personal journey, unique for every individual. Amidst the profound emotions and grief, one of the most challenging tasks can be determining what to do with the belongings of the departed. While the task may seem overwhelming, it's an important part of the healing process. Here are some sensitive and compassionate ways to approach this delicate task.

1. Allow Yourself Time to Heal: First and foremost, do not rush the process. There's no standard timetable when it comes to sorting through your loved one's belongings. Allow yourself the space and time to grieve. When you feel ready to start, proceed at your own pace. Remember, it's okay to pause and resume when you feel more emotionally equipped.
2. Gather Support: When you're ready, consider involving family members or close friends in the process. Not only can they provide emotional support, but they may also wish to keep some items for their own sentimental reasons. Remember, it’s not just about dividing objects, but about sharing memories, stories, and laughter.
3. Catalogue the Belongings: Create a comprehensive list of your loved one's possessions. This task can be overwhelming, but it helps ensure no item is overlooked. Consider breaking it down into manageable segments – room by room, or item category by item category.
4. Deciding What to Keep: Undoubtedly, certain items hold significant sentimental value. A piece of jewelry, a beloved book, or a cherished photo album can be a tangible connection to your departed loved one. Keep these objects close as a way of preserving their memory. It’s okay not to make immediate decisions, you can create a 'maybe' pile and come back to it later.
5. Distribution Among Family Members and Friends: After setting aside the items you wish to keep, consider if other family members or friends would appreciate a memento. This not only helps in reducing the volume of possessions, but also spreads the legacy of your loved one.
6. Donate, Sell, or Recycle: For items that don't hold significant sentimental value, consider donating to charities, selling, or recycling. Many items can find a new life in a new home, perhaps even bringing joy or utility to someone else.
7. Seek Professional Help: If the task is too daunting, consider hiring a professional estate clearing service. These professionals can help sort, catalog, and distribute the belongings based on your instructions. Additionally, grief counselors can provide emotional support during this difficult time.
8. Create a Memorial: Consider using some of your loved one's belongings to create a memorial. This can be as simple as framing their favorite scarf or making a quilt from their clothing. Such tokens can serve as a comforting reminder of the person you loved.

Remember, the process of dealing with a loved one's belongings after they pass away isn't simply about 'cleaning out' their stuff. It's an emotional journey that allows you to honor their memory, process your grief, and begin the healing process. It's okay to feel sadness, joy, nostalgia, and even confusion as you navigate through this sea of memories.

Ultimately, it's not the objects themselves, but the shared memories and emotions tied to them that truly matter. And although these belongings may move on to new places, the love and memories you shared will always remain with you.

Grief has an uncanny ability to seep into every aspect of our lives, transforming us in ways both visible and invisible. It can leave its fingerprints on our thoughts, our behaviors, our relationships, and even our very sense of who we are. This blog post aims to explore the profound impact of grief on personal identity and to offer some insights into navigating this challenging terrain.

Grief often triggers a period of self-reflection, forcing us to confront our vulnerabilities and innermost feelings. This can lead to shifts in our self-perception and identity. For example, you might start identifying yourself in relation to your loss: "I am a widow," "I am an orphan," "I am a bereaved parent." While these labels bear witness to your pain, they can also limit your understanding of yourself and potentially overshadow other aspects of your identity.

Take the example of Laura, a 35-year-old woman who lost her husband to a sudden illness. She began to perceive herself solely as a widow, forgetting that she was also a talented artist, a loving mother, a dedicated community volunteer, and so much more. This one-dimensional view of her identity made her feel defined by her loss, amplifying her grief.

Or consider Tom, a 50-year-old man who lost his adult son in a tragic accident. He began to identify as a bereaved parent, which significantly impacted his relationships with his other children. His identity became so intertwined with his grief that it strained his capacity to engage with his family as he did before his loss.

These shifts in identity are a normal part of the grieving process. They reflect the significant impact of our loss and the deep love we had for the person we lost. However, while it's essential to honor these feelings, it's equally important to remember that our identity is multifaceted and not defined solely by our loss.

Understanding this can create space for healing and acceptance. Exploring your identity beyond your grief doesn't mean forgetting your loved one or minimizing your pain. Instead, it allows you to reconnect with the many aspects of who you are and reaffirm your worth beyond your loss.

If you find yourself grappling with shifts in your identity after a loss, here are a few strategies that might help:

1. Reflect on your values and passions: What did you love doing before your loss? What values are most important to you? Reconnecting with these can help you see beyond the lens of your grief.
2. Engage in meaningful activities: Pursue hobbies, volunteer work, or other activities that give you a sense of purpose and joy.
3. Seek support: Share your feelings with trusted friends, family members, or a grief counselor. They can provide a different perspective and reaffirm your worth beyond your loss.
4. Be patient with yourself: Changes in identity aren't always negative, and they don't have to be permanent. It's okay to identify with your loss while also exploring other facets of who you are.
5. Find strength in faith: For many, faith offers a steady source of comfort and identity, reminding us of a higher purpose and a hope that transcends our earthly pain.

Remember, grief isn't a linear journey, and neither is the exploration of your identity amidst your loss. It's a complex process that unfolds in its own time. You might feel lost at times, but hold on to the assurance that with each day, you are growing, healing, and finding your way.

As we end, let us remind ourselves of an old Japanese proverb, "The bamboo that bends is stronger than the oak that resists." Grief may bend us, but in our flexibility and resilience, we find our strength. Amidst the tears, the pain, and the shifting sands of identity, we emerge stronger, braver, and more compassionate. We find that, even in our loss, we are so much more than our grief. We are survivors, we are warriors of the heart, and we carry within us a light that no shadow can dim.

The loss of someone close affects everyone differently, but one constant is a need to process grief. Being aware of your needs and how to meet them, whether personally or among close friends and family, can help you make sure the choices you're making will benefit you even after you've moved on. Today, Ellie's Way offers some tips and resources to help you navigate this difficult time.

Supporting Each Other and Yourselves

Recognize that you're likely not the only one struggling with the recent death. The people closest to you and the deceased probably feel similar to you, and being able to lean on each other is important to healthy grieving. Your support system is not just there to commiserate; grieving friends and family can help complete difficult life tasks for each other such as cooking for the widow or widower, setting appointments the deceased usually did for their family, or helping to manage funeral arrangements.

There's plenty you can do for yourself, as well. It's vital to process your feelings, but dwelling on them for too long can lead to a lack of control in other aspects of your life. Try to stay active and productive during this time. A distraction is often useful for briefly improving your mood and letting you fulfill your obligations while processing your grief.

Securing Their Legacy With a Nonprofit

If you have the proper means and connections, you might consider setting up an organization to effect positive change in your loved one's memory. By filing as a nonprofit corporation, public funding and grants are more available to you, allowing you to focus on supporting a cause that was important to your departed relative rather than fundraising to get the project off the ground.

Nonprofits need a set of bylaws to help drive and govern how their members operate. Make sure these specifications keep all employees and volunteers accountable while serving the cause your loved one stood for. If you need ideas for your nonprofit's mission, consider the deceased's hobbies and special interests, medical advancements that could have prolonged their lives, or specific social changes they would have liked to see.

You should also design some business cards to go along with your new nonprofit. If you aren’t sure where to start, this may be a solution, allowing you to take advantage of free templates and customize them to suit your needs. This is a great way to provide others with a tangible reminder of your nonprofit’s existence and mission.

Reassessing Your Career

Sudden shifts like a close relative's death often put other aspects of your life in perspective. As you come to terms with what's most important and who your true support system consists of, you may end up wanting to change anything from where you live and who you spend time with to what you do for a living. Shaking things up and finding a new job or a completely different field are common moves to make when facing your own mortality.

A resume is often your first impression to a potential new employer. Though the wake of your recent loss may still be affecting you, it's important to put a sufficient amount of time and effort into crafting a convincing and impressive CV. Online resume builders and templates can be found fairly easily, leaving some time and mental capacity to address your grief.

The loss of a loved one is often a devastating shake-up to daily life, one that you may not be able to navigate on your own. Helping (and accepting help from) your family, changing aspects of your life that you're unsatisfied with, and continuing your loved one's memory with a nonprofit or other meaningful memorial gestures are all great ways to grieve healthily.

Ellie's Way is here to provide help and support for those who are grieving. If you have any questions or you’d like to help, please let us know!

Contributed to Ellie's Way by Camille Johnson
Image via Pexels

Whether you're a friend or the next of kin, making sure you honor a deceased loved one appropriately can be really difficult. You want to show how much you cared, and you want everyone to know about your loved one's qualities; however, social media can sometimes be difficult to navigate when handling the passing of a family member. Here are some tips that can help you on your journey.

Ask Family for Permission First
It's always best to check in with family members first to see how they feel about you posting online. This is important if the deceased was private about their personal life.

Be Authentic
It's okay to express your sadness. It's fine to mention a name, especially if that person was close. Be open, authentic, and compassionate and others will better understand your grief.

Be Sensitive
Don't simply post a few words about how sad you are. Instead, think carefully about the post you're about to make. Make sure you pay attention to word usage so you don’t come across as rude or uncaring, or that nothing is taken out of context. Think about how you'll feel years from now when you're looking at the post about your loved one's passing—in particular, how they passed.

Search for an Inspirational Quote
If you're unsure how to best express your emotions, search for inspirational quotes. They can be a great source of words to help express how you feel.

Memorialized Facebook Accounts
If you're on Facebook and a loved one has passed away, you can request that their account be memorialized. A Facebook memorial is a page that memorializes a person after they pass away. Below the header photo, the memorial shows a "Remembering" tab with a list of the decedent's friends who contributed messages of condolence, shared memories, or posted photos. As a result of this change, you will no longer see memorialized profiles in places such as suggestions for "People You May Know" or birthday reminders.

Take Your Time
Finally, don't rush to post something just because it's on your mind. Take your time, consider your audience, and wait until you're ready. Grieving is a hard process, and there are many steps along the way. You may discover that attending a support group and connecting with others will help you find the words for your post.

Sharing the Love
While there's no easy way to deal with the loss of a loved one, social media can often help grieving families express their feelings. Facebook has become a haven where friends and family can come together and share their love for those who have passed away.

Contributed to Ellie's Way by Camille Johnson
Image via Unsplash.com

By Kirk Spencer

As our final day in Children’s Hospital unfolded, one of the nurses asked if I wanted to hold my little girl. Of course, I immediately replied, “Yes.”

This would be the first time in months I was going to be able to touch my youngest child, and it would probably be the last. I took my turn in that rocking chair that was next to her bed after my wife stood up. Two nurses carefully took Lindsay from her and laid her in my lap. The transfer was a little clumsy. While many of IV’s and tubes had been removed, some things were still hooked up to her and had to come along.

I looked down at my little girl, but her eyes had long since closed, so I guess she couldn’t see me back. I tried to soothe her as best I could, or maybe I was trying to soothe myself. I thought I might sing to her the little song I sang so many times to my other two young ones at bedtime.

When Shawn and Brooke first came along, I wanted to put them to bed by singing them a soft song. The problem was I had never learned any lullabies. So, I made one up! I grabbed one of my favorite rock n’ roll songs and changed it a little to resemble some sort of lullaby. The song I chose is from my favorite singer/songwriter, Bob Seger. I grew up in the suburbs of Detroit, so the music of Bob Seger helped shape my life ever since I was a teenager. That simple lullaby I made up was from his song Beautiful Loser. I knew it by heart, inside and out. As I held my youngest child for the last time, I really couldn’t think of anything more important to leave with her, and I wasn’t sure how long she would remain in my arms.

Although I desperately wanted to, I couldn’t get the words to come. In fact, I couldn’t get any sound to come out during those last few moments we shared. The only things that seemed to sneak out were some quiet tears. I had really hoped I could somehow sing her to sleep one final time. But, it wasn’t meant to be - not today.

As one of the nurses took her from me and laid her back on those very white sheets on that large hospital bed, I realized my little girl was going to have to move to her new home without her dad telling her how much he loved her the best way he knew how.

That damn heart monitor across the bed kept reminding me of how fast she was slipping away. My last memory of Lindsay would be full of tired tears, helplessness, and hopelessness. Suddenly, I wasn’t in the way again.

My four-month argument with God was coming to an end. The arrangement I thought we had, suddenly reached a conclusion I couldn’t accept. “I mean, I held up my part of the bargain.”

Apparently, I didn’t get to make up the rules. Sadness and anger began to fill my empty heart, but this ongoing discussion would have to wait. Grasping the severity of the situation, I quickly realized my wife needed me more than ever before. Oh, I wasn’t a hero. No, I just found it easier to help those around me and force my confusion down deep inside.

I guess it was time for this father to turn over the care of his daughter to another Father that would never be in the way…ever.

Kirk Spencer is a first-time writer telling his story 35 years after his family lost their youngest child to heart disease.  Retired from +40 years in the grocery industry starting as a bagger at a store and working his way up to Vice-President of a national sales and marketing company servicing one of the largest grocery retailers in the United States.

He and his wife have been married for 42 years, have two grown children, and seven grandkids.  While he was born and raised in Michigan, the rest of his family remain diehard Ohio State Buckeye fans.

He enjoys playing golf, writing, cooking, and whatever sports activity his grandkids have that day… lacrosse, basketball, and girls’ softball mostly.

Visit Kirk's website for more information about his book! www.kirk-spencer.com

Dear Lord, help me with this pain and grief of losing someone so very precious in my life. Here I am Lord, forgive me. I’m aching for your love! Sometimes I have no words, but simply tears. Thank you, God, for loving me so much that you sent Jesus to die for me. Lord, I know you understand my suffering as you experienced the same with your Son. Your mercy and grace are beyond my comprehension. Because of the cross, I will see you again my precious one. I lay all my troubles, fears, and worries at your feet. Lord, my strength comes from you. Even in the darkest corners of my thoughts, mind, and heart, I know you made me. I am humbled in your presence. I give you my pain, grief, and heartache. Thank you for meeting me on my knees at the cross. I find my hope in you. Through you, everything is possible. I know your light will guide me through all the difficult days, I just have to trust you. Dear Lord, show me the way! I pray for strength to help me through this long journey of grief. May your light brighten my path. Help me to praise you and give you all the glory! Help us to all join hands during this Christmas season. Lord, I will try to walk in the beauty of your love for me. In Christ’s name, I pray, Amen.

This prayer was created from all the entries from one of our caption contests. Each part is a contribution from a member of our Ellie's Way Group that provides encouragement and support to the grieving!
Join us at www.facebook.com/groups/elliesway

with Leslie Wachter McDonald

Introduction

Do you ever hear about a situation that just grabs your heart and mind? In March 2011, a schoolmate of Kristen’s, Leslie, and her family were in a terrible accident. We talked about it for days, and did not sleep well after hearing about it.

After losing our little six-year-old Ellie, many people reached out to us. Leslie was right there with words of encouragement. This meant so much to us, because we knew her story. We knew that she was still physically healing and grieving the loss of her husband and son. In her suffering, her heart was full of love and compassion for us and it gave us hope. We can’t thank her enough, and we hope that her story inspires you.

Thank you Leslie for sharing your story with us.

-Todd and Kristen

"Not easy to read. Wasn’t easy to write. Wow, what a feeling to do it!"
- Leslie Wachter McDonald
 
Leslie, what is your loss story?

On March 22, 2011, my family was on Spring Break vacation in Durango, CO. We were returning from a day of exploring when we were hit drivers side to drivers side, head on, by a retired police officer who was addicted to and high on prescription medications. The accident resulted in the death of my husband, Robert, and my 10 year old son, Jaden.

I was knocked unconscious and awoke to my 12 year old son, Kellen, yelling at me. We were able to exit the car even though it was fully engulfed in flames. At the scene of the accident, I kept pleading for people to get Jaden and Bob out of the car. Finally, a brave bystander who had talked to me through the flames pointed at my cross and asked me, “Do you believe in God?” I responded, “Yes.” He responded, “They are in a better place.”

Later when they had me in the ambulance, I could hear the helicopters and chatter from the paramedics on their radios. The hard second confirmation came in that moment. One of the paramedics said, “Three dead on scene and two survivors.” Final confirmation, when they woke me up from my medically induced coma and my mom told me yet again that my son and husband were indeed gone.

Two survivors. Kellen and I were burned over 50% of our bodies. Kellen was transported to the burn unit at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. I had internal injuries that needed immediate attention. Therefore, I was transferred to the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. We spent over two months apart enduring painful skin grafts, surgeries, infections and rehabilitation in separate burn units. On rare days, when we weren’t in surgery or recovering from surgery, we would talk on the phone or Skype.

We were eventually reunited in Denver. Me at the University of Colorado Hospital and he at Children’s of Colorado. Now we were only separated by about a half mile. We spent another month and a half healing and getting stronger in rehab until we got to go home to start our new life.

What do you want everyone to remember about your husband and son, Jaden?

Bob was a great man of great integrity. Family always came first. He sacrificed so much during his life to always do the right thing. He had opportunities to follow his passion, Southwest Plains Archaeology, but instead found a family friendly career path that allowed him to take sick days with his kids and vacation time when his mom came to town. He then went on to advance in a career that was not at all what he went to school for or dreamed about doing. But like everything else, he excelled. He sang beautifully. He took stunning photos. He coached Little League. He loved to cook as much as he loved to watch the Broncos play. However, his single most greatest joy was his kids! He never wanted his kids to grow up without a dad like he did. He was the most excited and proud grandpa I had ever seen when his grand babies were born.

Jaden was born with a heart defect called a coarctation. He went into congestive heart failure a few hours after he was born. He was diagnosed and transferred to Denver Children’s for heart surgery when he was just 4 days old. We always said that even though he didn’t remember any of that, it molded who he was. Jaden loved life. If there was a friend to be met, he would introduce himself, if there was a club to join, he joined. If there was a cool skill he wanted to learn like the piano or judo or baseball, he didn’t just learn it. He mastered it. They wouldn’t let him eat for the first week of his life. So he spent the next 10 years making up for that. He ate everything except polenta! Jaden had two speeds, fast and asleep. One time I was telling Bob about seeing a television show with Randy Pausch, The Last Lecture. One of Randy’s points was people need to decide if they are a Tigger or an Eeyore. Jaden overheard this discussion and cheerfully chimed in that he was definitely a Tigger. Yes Jaden, you were my Tigger. Bob always said that Jaden was his hero.
 
What impact do you want to leave on the world?

I want to warn people of the addictive and dangerous nature of prescription pain medications. I tell everyone I can. Some day, I would love to support a national campaign of some kind.

I want to facilitate healing for other burn survivors. I do this by being a SOAR (Survivors Offering Assistance in Recovery) provider at the burn units for Children’s Colorado and University of Colorado Hospital. I was a physical therapist before the accident. I am still a physical therapist but I’ve learned how to be a burn therapist. I enjoy working with other burn survivors to facilitate their rehab.

I want to give hope and support other widows and grieving parents. I want to reach out and tell my story so others know that there is a path to healing.

I want my husband and son’s legacy to live on in some form or fashion. I’m still kicking around ideas for this one!
 
What lessons could people learn from your life?

Strength comes out of our worst situations. You truly never know how strong you are until you are tested. I said at the beginning of my recovery that I didn’t intentionally set out on this journey, but I promise to take every step of it with intention.

I know my faith in God is where my true strength has come from. When you are lying in a hospital bed with no control of even your basic bodily functions, your family is gone, you don’t have one familiar face to look at, you only have God. You only listen to God. You only talk to God. Your universe is that hospital bed and God is at the center.

I remember in those moments of “sedation” walking behind Bob and Jaden on the shores of a magnificent body of water. I was desperately trying to catch up to them, calling their names. The only response I got was, “Not yet”. At one point I thought I had died and gone to Hell. I felt like the same day kept replaying over and over and over. Later, I discovered it was just in ICU psychosis.

Then I prayed to die. I figured that had to be way easier. And again, the only response was, “Not yet”. After that, I figured I better start living because God didn’t want me dead yet!

That’s the real lesson with any loss. You are still alive, so Live. Don’t just exist. Don’t just breathe in and out. Don’t just go through the motions. LIVE!

And just because you make that choice to live, it doesn’t mean your not still grieving. There is no “getting over it”. I like to think of it as moving through it. The pain is still there. It still hurts as bad as the first days sometimes. The void in your life is always there. The loss is there whether there are tears in your eyes or a smile on your face.

We who grieve set an example for others, especially our children. They need to see its ok to cry. It’s ok to hurt. It’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to remember out loud. But it’s also ok to LIVE! It’s ok to laugh. It’s ok to have joy. It’s ok to have peace. It’s ok to LIVE without the guilt of being alive. There are so many moments of life to be enjoyed. Grief shouldn’t steal those moments.

I’ve told Kellen many times that if he loses his childhood and his joy to this tragedy then the Evil One wins. We can’t let the Evil One win our Christian hearts.

with Connie Bowman

Introduction

Did we find Connie purely by chance? We don’t think so and know that there was a purpose in our meeting. Todd was trying to find some voice professionals to do some work for Ellie’s Way, and Connie heard our story and quickly offered to help us in any way she could. It turned out that we had both lost a six-year-old daughter. Connie’s huge heart and compassion for others stand out and we’re so glad our paths crossed.

Connie has just completed her first book, Back to Happy: A Journey of Hope, Healing and Waking Up. Connie is an inspiring leader and an example to so many people. She has overcome one of life’s most difficult challenges. She’s found a way “Back to Happy” and candidly shares her story. Connie’s book is a needed survival guide when life gets tough.

– Todd and Kristen

Connie, what is your loss story?

Meghan was our first child, born at Emerson Hospital at Old Road to Nine Acre Corner in Concord, Massachusetts. I love that she was born so close to the family home of Louisa May Alcott – and that she was named Meg, after the first child in my favorite childhood book “Little Women”.

Meghan Rebecca Bowman
March 26, 1985 – May 5, 1991

Everything about her birth was normal except that she had some breathing problems after swallowing some “maternal blood” and so she was kept in hospital for a couple of extra days, just to be on the safe side. During that time she was checked out and, by all accounts was a normal healthy newborn.

She was so healthy for the first year or so and then started having symptoms, which led me to see several pediatricians as my instincts were that something just wasn’t right. I was told I was worrying too much, that I needed a vacation, and that all babies got sick. I knew something was wrong but, because I was young and I wanted that to be the truth, I believed them. Finally, when Meghan came down with the worst cold ever, I took her to see a new doctor who almost immediately diagnosed her with congenital heart disease.

I was devastated. She was hospitalized and we found that she had a form of congenital heart disease that, when found early on, could have been easily rectified with a simple surgery at birth. By this time (she was almost two) there was some damage to her lungs so we were left to treating her with medicine and oxygen and prayers.

She was such a happy child and when her little sister Caroline was born, they were the best of friends. Meghan was six when we took her to Children’s Hospital to have a routine test to check the pressures in her lungs with some new medicines. It was to be a quick procedure and she would be back in her kindergarten class the next day. No big deal. When they called me into the ICU after the procedure, it was to calm Meghan down as the nurses said she was agitated. When I saw her, I knew immediately there was something seriously wrong. I tried to comfort her, but she coded on the table and we were quickly ushered out of the room, while they tried to save her life.

The next two weeks were a blur. She was flown to Pittsburgh Children’s Hospital, the only area facility that had a heart-lung machine called ECMO, which would keep her alive while we talked about heart transplants and other equally inconceivable things. I was pregnant with my son Bobby at the time and had my first ultrasound while Meghan was in that hospital. Thankfully Bobby looked to be healthy and growing well so that was a relief.

Meghan was kept sedated while hooked to ECMO and, because the machine was oxygenating her blood, she looked deceivably good to us. So the day the doctors came to us and told us it was time to let her go, we were devastated. I prayed about it and felt this peace come over me and knew in my heart they were right. She had been through so much and her little body had fought hard to stay with us, but now we needed to tell her that it was alright to go. Thank God for the angel nurse who suggested I whisper to Meghan that it was “OK to go” because I would not have done that on my own. I told her “I would see her when we got there”. Soon after that, she died peacefully in that hospital bed, her Dad and me at her side.

What do you want people to remember about your sweet daughter Meghan?

She was a sweet, kind, smart and gentle soul. She brought so much joy to my life and my husband’s as well. She was, for three years, a constant friend and confidant for her sister, Caroline. And the brother whose birth occurred just months after his sister’s death would never know the love that this beautiful girl would have showered on him.
 
What impact do you want to leave on the world?

Healing from losing this precious child has shaped my life in ways I never could have expected. It has been a long, arduous journey but ultimately one of rebirth and regeneration. I remember attending a meeting of grieving parents early on in the process and hearing that the final stage of healing comes when you can reach out and help someone else. I wanted some of that final phase peace; an end to the pain and sadness that pervaded every waking moment. This became my goal – to get to that place of helping others with their grief journeys.

Several miraculous things came out of the experience of losing a child. I learned to trust my inner voice profoundly. I learned to surrender to a much bigger plan than I could ever conceive or in any way control. I learned to accept the help of the many angels that came into my life and then to reach out to others in turn. I learned to embrace whatever joy wants to come in, however fleeting, for it is God’s gift to us. I learned that love transcends time and space and our loved ones are never really gone, only in the physical.
 
What lessons could people learn from your life?

I don’t know if there is anything special about what I, and my family have been through because so many people suffer in this world. If there is a take-away I would hope that it is that feeling joy after loss is possible. When Meghan died I remember feeling like I would never be happy again. But then a day came when I laughed and I realized I was feeling happy for just a few minutes. That first glimpse of joy was incredible, and soon I would be able to sustain it for longer periods until my former sense of optimism and happiness returned. Being conscious of these moments of grace and being grateful for the small things helps the process along.
 
What is Happy Healthy You!

Happy Healthy You! is an offshoot of everything that has unfolded in my life; so miraculously. I returned to acting after Meghan died in an attempt to bring more joy into my life and it has evolved into a new career! (Who knew that my daughter Caroline would take this to the extreme by becoming a Broadway actress!) I have always wanted my own show and this is my way of having it with the podcast.

Through Happy Healthy You! I can impart to others some of the things I have learned and learn some new stuff myself. It was something my inner voice had been telling me to do for a while and finally I said “OK, OK!” and did it. Who knows where it will take me? I will keep it up as long as it brings me joy and if it helps someone else along the way, all the better!

with Dean Synan

Introduction

Dean is one of those people that you can’t miss. I found him on Facebook in a Grieving Fathers group. He provides support to so many. I asked him if he would mind answering a few questions, and he responded, “If you think this will help one person, I am happy to share my story.” Well, mission accomplished! His story inspires me and I hope that it blesses you.
– Todd

Dean, what is your story?

This story started in 1974 when I walked into a new school mid-year and sat down. I looked around the room and there she was, the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen in my life!!! There was something about her. I had no idea how an amazing and tragic story that I was about to begin.

The next year, she asked a friend to let me know that she wanted me to ask her to go steady. I almost ran to her house after school that day. It was short-lived and we broke up and life went on. I was so not ready for what was to be. We went on to high school and I always stayed close to the family through her younger brother.

As the years went by, I got to teach her how to drive a stick shift and I would play basketball with her brother until she came outside. She was a varsity cheerleader and the captain on top of that!!! I was just a guy that loved her. I was the kid that had the fastest car and drove it that way every day.

Right after high school, she married a guy that played basketball and I went to the wedding and drank for the first time. I knew this guy did not love her the way that I did. So, I packed up my car and went 2,000 miles away and was never coming back.

Five months later, I called to talk with a buddy that was over at her parent’s house and she answered the phone. I asked how she was doing and was she visiting? She said she lived there!!! What happened? She said her husband did not want a family, a wife, a child and the responsibility. I got off the phone and packed my car and headed back to Phoenix!!!

We would sit out front in the grass and talk for many hours each night. She was pregnant and I was there to help her pick up the pieces. After months of caring and listening, we were on our way to planning our wedding and finding a place to raise this gift of a child. I loved the baby as much as I loved the mom! He was not my biological child. Jeff was born September 7, 1980. We got married and life was full of new things, new ways, new life!!!

Then, Justin was born on October 4, 1982. We made a deal that I could hold Justin first because she held Jeff first. I witnessed his birth and as I held Justin for his first breath, I was in such awe. I knew that I loved Jeff just the same as I loved my biological son Justin. Life was good!!!

That Christmas, I remember thinking that this was what success was – a wife, two boys, and a home. We were planning what school the boys would go to and that we might need a station wagon for our next car. I was so happy!!! On January 23, 1983, we went for a family portrait and all was well.

Two days later, on the morning of January 25, 1983, Justin would take his last breath in my arms. His arms and legs went limp as I was looking into his eyes as they closed for the last time. Viral meningitis took his little life. We were about to find out how brutal this success was going to be.

I was the dad that was supposed to protect my family. I failed. I could not keep Justin alive. I could not save him. We went to a support group called Compassionate Friends which was the only one my wife could attend.

A month later, I would come home to an empty house with our wedding album placed in the middle of the living room at the very angle that I would walk into the room. My wife had left me. It was the stake in the heart! I looked up with tears flowing, and asked: “LORD how much more can a man go through?” I was crushed. No wife. No Justin. No, Jeff. I had lost everything, I mean EVERYTHING!!!

Our marriage and my vows were the only thing that I had taken seriously in my short life. At only 22 years old, I was growing up real fast. I immediately got into my car and got a dozen roses and went looking for my wife. Two stops later, I found her at her sister’s house and left the roses at the front door. I told her that whatever she was going through, I pray that you get through it and come home.

Over the next two years, we went back and forth. We would date, but it was too hard. We would try again and again. She took a job out of state and we would visit each other and try again. It was brutal over and over again. We did our best and I could see what Jeff was going through each time. I loved them both more than I loved myself. It just did not work out. We went our separate ways and did not talk for 16 years.

I was remarried and holding my son Devan at the exact age that Jeff was when Justin died!!! I ran into my former wife and picked up a conversation about Jeff. I inquired how he was doing and she told me he needed a job. So I hired him right on the spot.

My current wife, Catherine, and I had just lost our second son (Daniel) to a miscarriage. We lost another baby a year and a half later (Dustin). Then, Dillan was born in 2004. We were blessed to have another son, Devan.

More years went by and the relationship between me and my first wife was mended as she called for help with Jeff. She needed prayer and asked if I would visit Jeff. I prayed and went to see Jeff and with a lot more prayers. After all these years, I was discovering that love was blossoming at a whole new level. It was not the kind of love between a husband and wife, it was just love for her and Jeff!!! It was powerful to love beyond marriage. I was just loving them!!!

One morning, two years ago, my former wife sent me a message asking what I remembered about Justin’s last day. I said EVERY BREATH!!! I sat down for the next two hours and wrote the most powerful words that I have ever written. There were two hours of details that I could remember like it was yesterday. I wrote and wrote until I was finished and sobbed deeper than I had for 29 years. It was the first time that I heard my former wife say Justin’s name to me. That is when I realized how my love had grown. Love does not fade, it grows!!!
 
What do you want everyone to remember about Justin, Daniel and Dustin?

Their lives count, they teach, they ARE!!! There is always HOPE!!! They LIVE!!! There is more to this LOVE STORY!!! It does not end, it GROWS!!! The darkness and brutality does not last, LOVE DOES!!! LOVE ENDURES FOREVERMORE!!!
 
What impact do you want to leave on the world?

The impact of three things: FAITH, HOPE and LOVE, and of these three, the most important is LOVE!!! It has taken me 31 years to LOVE like this again.

Last month my doctor told me that I have cancer and that the test revealed squamous cell carcinoma. I refused to accept that. I had already been healed of Crohn’s disease in 1983 after Justin’s death and the loss of my wife and son to the divorce. The pain was so brutal that it caused the Crohn’s to spread.

After two surgeries, I was dying — I’m 6′-5″ and weighed less than 100 pounds. I heard GOD say, “Do you want to come home or do you want to stay?” I knew that this would be my last breath, just like Justin’s. I thought for a nanosecond – I had nothing to go home to, I had nothing to live for, and I would not have to suffer anymore. I lifted my hand to point up and went to say “TAKE ME HOME!!!”

But, that is not what happened. As I lifted my hand and opened my mouth, the words “I’LL STAY” came out! I said aloud, “That is not what I was going to say!!!” I knew that I was going to suffer, I was going to grieve, I was going to hurt deeply, but I was here for a purpose. GOD healed the Crohn’s disease in 2003 and healed my cancer last week.

Today I am living my purpose. I have been here to help others on Facebook through groups such as Grieving Fathers. I’m also involved with several support groups for bereaved parents, The Compassionate Friends and MISS Foundation. I’ve helped The 100 Club, a group that helps first responders and their families when they are killed in the line of duty. I enjoy praying for people and witnessing GOD healing them. I’ve participated in ReignDownUSA and other healing crusades.

Now I’m a part of a brand new church start-up!!! I’m a pastor that has been in training my entire life. I consider my life an amazing life – a tragic, blessed, brutal, and beautiful life!!! Today, this life does funerals, marriages, hospital visits, family visits, praying for deliverance, and so much more!!! Only because the Spirit in me said “I’LL STAY”.
 
What lessons could people learn from your life?

NEVER give up!!! It is not over until GOD says it is over!!! Fight the good fight and keep the faith. LOVE like you never have and LOVE each other no matter what has happened in the past. LOVE outshines the darkness!!!

by Jim Sitton

Jim was asked to speak at a GriefShare support group, and this is what he said:

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, SO that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves received from God.” – 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

I’ve been told that when folks hear what we’ve been through and they see that we are still standing, they begin to feel that maybe they too can survive the valley of death and eventually overcome evil with good. So I’m not here to be pitied or to appear super human. I’m here to encourage you to keep putting one foot in front of the other until you can learn to trust God again and find rest and comfort in Him.

Many times my wife would ask me “How are we going to do this? (return to our house, attend funeral, testify in court, design headstone, have Thanksgiving, celebrate Christmas, see Makayla’s friends) I would say, “Honey, place one foot in front of the other.” It’s the only way.

That’s how I got up here on this stage! That’s how I will tell you what happened to us Thanksgiving night, Nov 26th 2009.

After dinner and singing around the piano I put Makayla in bed. We then all went into the kitchen area to pack up leftovers and begin saying our goodbyes. (Maybe it’s better that I don’t have much time so I can spare you most of the horrid details.)

Without a word the murderer began shooting. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. First, he killed his sister right in front of me as I helped her with a bag. Then her pregnant twin. It sort of gets blurry at this point, but my wife’s mother was also killed and 2 others wounded. Then, he started toward the front door. But, just before leaving, he stepped into our 6 year old daughter’s room and shot Makayla Joy Sitton three times as she lay in her bed.

I was asked to tell you about Makayla, but it’s impossible to even begin to tell you how special she is, in such a short time. So I’d just like to let you experience the last conversation we had as I tucked her in that evening. My wife, Muriel, was busy entertaining our guests and so I offered to put her in bed. A couple of days later I wrote down our conversation, so I would never forget.

Thanksgiving 2009 9:15pm, as I put Makayla down in her cozy pink bed.

Me: Wow honey, you were amazing tonight! I thought you were going to talk about the Pilgrims. Thanks-FEELING? I’ve never even thought about Thanksgiving like that. Where did that come from?
Makayla: (smiling from ear to ear) I’ve been reading about giving thanks in the Bible and just thought how rude it it would be to receive blessings from God and never thank Him. That would only be Thanks-FEELING. So, I decided that our singing, playing piano and dancing tonight could be our way to GIVE THANKS to God for all He has done for us.
Me: Baby, I love you soo much. I’m very proud of you and the way you explained that to everybody. I think they were all shocked at how mature you are. (she smiled humbly) Honey, I want to give thanks too that God has allowed me to be your Papa. I’m thankful that you’re my little Makaylakoo. You have been so thoughtful to everyone tonight. I saw how you greeted Lisa and Patrick at the door and made them feel welcome. And that game of Thanksgiving toss was very creative too. I loved the opportunity to tell you how beautiful you are from head to toe! And you were so brave to help me with the fire pit. You overcame your fears and put that big log on the fire. Wow, you are getting so big! OK, let me give you kissing hands and get you to bed.
Makayla: (giggling) Nope kissing hands are just for Mama!
Me: What? OK, I guess I’m stuck with kissing FEET! (I grab her feet and bring them up to my lips) EWwwWWw! PEE YOU! (more lil girl giggles) Those are some stinky feet! (Not really, they smell like an angel’s breath, I begin to kiss her toes with a sour look on my face.) She suddenly stops laughing and says, “Papa, smell my hair.” I press my nose into her hair and it smells like smoke from the fire pit.
Makayla: Does it smell like smoke?
Me: Yeah baby it does.
Makayla: Just like you huh?
Me: Yeah baby, just like me. (She likes that thought and smiles knowing that she had helped me keep that fire going, in spite of her fears.)
Me: It’s getting late, let’s pray. Father, thank you so much for this beautiful little girl. Thank you for this sweet time together, and for these stinky lil feet. (she giggles) God, I am so honored that you have allowed me to be her Papa. Help me to be the kind of daddy that she can always be proud of. Help me to always lead our family in the way you want us to go. We thank you for our entire family and we hope to be reflectors of your light and love to them and to everyone we meet. Thanks too for Mama! We thank you for giving Makayla the most most wonderful Mama in the world. And for brother JJ! God, thanks for that game of Thanksgiving toss that Makayla made. We were all given the chance to tell each other how much we cherish them. Thanks too for Makayla’s teaching on not just feeling thankful but the need to actually GIVE thanks to You and each other. Thank you for giving me a little girl that has such a sensitive heart toward you. I know you have great plans for her and eagerly await for them to unfold. Most of all we thank you for your son who willingly gave up his life, to pave the way for us to have this close relationship with you. It’s in Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.
Makayla: Papa, I’m so excited I can’t sleep.
Me: I know baby, but close your eyes as you listen to your hymns and think about how brave you were tonight and how much we love you. (turns off light, turns on CD player)
Makayla: Papa?
Me: Yeah baby.
Makayla: I love you.
Me: I love you too! Now get some sleep, you’ve got a big day of dancing at the Nutcracker tomorrow.
Makayla: I can’t wait!
Me: Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite!
Makayla: Papa, my feet don’t really stink do they?
Me: Of course not, they smell just like flowers!
Makayla: So you’re just pretending?
Me: Yes my love.
Makayla: I like how you pretend they stink, and make those silly faces. Do that next time too, ok?
Me: Ok, stinky toes.
Makayla: I really do smell like smoke though, right?
Me: Yes.
Makayla: Just like you?
Me: Yeah baby, just like me. I’ll see ya in the morning.
Makayla: Goodnight Papa
Me: Goodnight sweet pea. (closes door softly and smiles for the last time.)

I was wrong about never smiling again. Although, It took over 3 years before I felt true joy again. Our home had once been full of love, laughter and music. But it instantly fell silent, cold and empty. No more lil’ girl giggles. No more hugs or kisses for Papa. No music.

All of that was replaced by a mothers’ wailing, anger and questions of WHY? Why Makayla, WHY US? Why GOD? How? How are we to survive this? Is it even possible?

We had only 2 choices really, run from God into booze, anger and drugs, OR run to God seeking comfort.

Muriel was suddenly a stay at home, homeschooling mom, with no child. How sad is that? We would just sit there for months, deeply hurt, dazed and confused. PTSD, shock, ANGER and fear. The murderer was still on the loose. Cops were protecting us 24/7. They were parked in front/back of our house in case he came back to finish us off. I was patrolling the inside, shotgun in hand just in case.

We were not sleeping much. When I did wake up from needed rest, there would be a second or so where I would think, “maybe it was all just a horrible dream”, but then the memory and pain would rush over and through me again. The first thing I would hear would be Muriel wailing in Makayla’s room. This went on for weeks and it began to piss me off because it was instant audible proof that, now, my waking life was a living nightmare and sleep was my only escape, however temporary. I felt robbed of those few seconds of groggy hope.

TV cameras, reporters and investigators were everywhere. Man hunts and searches seemed to go on forever. I was in hyper protective mode for a month before he was finally arrested. John Walsh, from America’s Most Wanted and the US Marshals had finally found him.

Then silence, only our pastor and close friends came around. A year or so of numbness. I eventually went back to work. Muriel would be left home all day, alone in that empty house that had once been a home. Her mom used to visit almost daily but she was gone now, too.

We tried having a baby a bunch of times. Our hopes would rise and fall with each failure until God finally showed mercy and brought blessing upon us in the form of Natalia Grace.

One morning I woke up and heard something strange. It was different – quiet and peaceful. Singing from another room? I listened closely and heard my broken wife softly singing, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound…” She was almost whispering but I knew at that moment she would survive. We will survive.

Mourning lasts through the night but joy comes in the morning! Natalia Grace is 21 months old now.

It wasn’t over. Grief never heals, it’s more like an amputation. You eventually get accustomed to the missing limb but it’s never really healed. You learn to live life differently. You learn to laugh (even without guilt sometimes.)

God never promised an easy, carefree life. He said that we will have suffering and mourning and heartaches, but He also promised that He will be with us, to comfort us and re-unite us on the other side, on that glorious shore. That is our hope, He is our only hope. I pray that you too will place your faith in the only One who has the power over all, even time and death.

Jim and his wife Muriel spoke at Calvary Chapel Palm City about living in grief on December 4th, 2010 (two days before Makayla’s 7th birthday).

With Keri Cannella-Moye

Introduction

We met Keri and her family under very difficult circumstances. We reached out to her after a tragic loss, and we’ve kept in touch. Her service to others and faith have been so inspiring to us. We have learned more about her at our GriefShare group. Her positive spirit shines through while walking through such a difficult time. Thanks for sharing your story!
-Todd and Kristen

Keri, what is your loss story?

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, on April 7th 2013. I was riding on the lawn mower in my backyard hoping to get my yard looking nice for spring. Both my 11-year-old son, Logan, and my 16-year-old daughter, Rachel, had a friend over for entertainment. Logan, not surprisingly, was inside showing his friend his new video games. Rachel, being much less keen on sitting still, was outdoors enjoying the sunshine. To escape the possibility of being delegated to do work, Rachel and her friend decided to walk down to the lake not far from our house. To get there, they had to walk through the woods in our backyard and down about 200 yards. I remember telling her over the roar of the lawn mower to have fun and don’t be gone too long. Little did I know, that was the last time I would see my daughter as a vibrant teenager as she smiled at me before disappearing into the woods.

In the next couple of minutes, my lawn mower ran out of gas and I lovingly convinced my husband to run up to the gas station for me. While waiting for him to return, I began picking up some sticks and balls in the yard. I heard Rachel’s name being called by her friend in the woods down from my house. I couldn’t distinguish the shouts between frantic yelling or goofing around, but my gut told me to pick up my cell phone and call Rachel to make sure everything was okay. I called, but it went to voicemail after a few unanswered rings. I was just about to dial once more when I received an incoming call from my sister.

She called because she was stuck in her car just outside her neighborhood, which was blocked off due to an accident with a couple of teenage girls on four-wheelers. Her story was enough to take my mind off of the uneasiness I was feeling about my child in the woods. She continued to tell me that the girls were being taken away by ambulance, and I remember saying to my sister, “I hope they’re okay. I can’t imagine something like that happening to my child.”

As I ended that phone call, I looked up to see my daughter’s friend alone and walking into our backyard. As he made eye contact with me, his legs buckled and he fell to the ground. The only words I heard him say were, “She’s dead. She’s dead.” At that moment, my life was forever changed. At that moment, I began to live with the guilt of not trusting my instincts when I heard Rachel’s name being called in the woods.

I instantly sprinted into the woods, ducked under branches, and ran straight through sticker bushes to get to my child. The image is forever ingrained in my memory. Rachel, my beautiful, vibrant 16-year-old daughter was on her back, arms spread out beside her, and a large tree was lying across her neck. Her eyes were open but rolled into the back of her head. I instantly reached for the tree. Her friend and I lifted it just high enough to slide it off of her lifeless body.

Knowing that she was not breathing, I began CPR. Unfortunately, as I attempted to give the first breath of life back into my child, it was resisted by a rush of blood coming from her throat. Knowing that her heart needed to pump, I began chest compressions while her friend used my phone to call for help.

The next 5 minutes felt like 5 lifetimes rolling over again. We were deep in the woods and it was hard for the police and EMT’s to find us. When help eventually arrived, the only thing I had left to do was beg for them to not give up on my child. That, and pray! We prayed for God to please protect and heal my child. That He make His presence known and felt through a miracle. Just as we said, “AMEN,” the words, “We have a radial pulse!” filled the woods. Rachel was air-lifted to Atlanta Medical where she was placed on life support.

For four days, we sat vigilant at her bedside. The love and support from family, friends, and even strangers flooded the hospital waiting room. We prayed and cried and prayed some more. On the fourth day, Rachel’s doctor informed us that all of her test results showed no blood flow to her brain. Because of this, they had legally declared her brain dead and had labeled her time of death. At that moment I realized that my prayers were answered. God had healed my child, just not in the selfish way I had hoped.
 
What do you want everyone to remember about your beautiful daughter, Rachel?

As a parent who has lost a child, one of my biggest fears is that the memory of my child and her legacy will be forgotten by those who once knew and loved her. Rachel started life so full of enthusiasm and delight. She was extremely animated and always eager to put a smile on your face. She excelled in everything she did. From academics to soccer to even playing the flute. Most memorably, she excelled at making us laugh.

But, by the age of 13, it was obvious that Rachel was going through some changes. What some would consider typical teenage behavior, I saw a bit disturbing. By the age of 14, Rachel was diagnosed with Bipolar, and we were also informed of the benefits of learning all we could about Borderline Personality Disorder. Even though she was too young to be diagnosed, she showed many of the traits of this mental illness.

From the get go, I did everything I could to educate myself on both of these illnesses. Just as if she was diagnosed with diabetes or some other disease, it was my job as mom to make sure she received the best treatment to ensure the most promising future that she could have. With the support of my husband, I quit my job and made being mommy to my children my number one, and really, almost my only priority. I knew that Rachel was facing an uphill battle, but that battle could be won if we did it together. Together, we were a team, and over the next two years we sat through hours and hours of counseling. There were a couple of hospital stays and numerous medication changes until we found the proper concoction that would benefit her the most.

Over the next couple of years, many people would tell me how patient and strong I was. However, through all of this, I had the privilege to witness what true strength and endurance was. Not by anything I was doing, but by intimately observing a young person suffer and be tormented from within her head and personal thoughts. By seeing the pain in her eyes as she got out of bed each morning, yet being astonished that she could face another day at all. Most significantly, I saw a young soul aching while at the very same time, praising the Lord for loving her and never leaving her side. Over those years I went from finding her dark and disheartening journal writings to finding her favorite Bible passages and lyrics from her preferred Christians songs. The team that I thought Rachel and I had created was being piloted by God the entire time, and it took my teenage daughter to teach me that. So, when asked the question, “What do you want everyone to remember about your beautiful daughter, Rachel?”, my answer is this — Rachel was, is and always will be my Hero!

What impact do you want to leave on the world and what lessons could people learn from your life?

If we had a dollar for every time we heard someone say that “life is short, enjoy it while you can”, we’d all be filthy rich. I can’t count how many times I had heard this statement before that fateful day in April of 2013. I can, however, tell you how many times it truly inspired and motivated me to relish the wonderful times and accept the unpleasant days that we call life — Zero!

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel that I took everything for granted. I enjoyed my times with friends and family and I appreciated the love that filled my life. I even told myself that everything happens for a reason and that God would never give me more than I can handle. This helped get me through the dark days after Rachel’s diagnosis. I thought I knew how short and truly fragile life was, but I was hugely mistaken.

Life is a blink of the eye. It needs to be captured in every single heartbeat because we are never guaranteed a continued rhythm. Words must never go unspoken and thoughts never left unshared. The significance of this very moment can be the most essential of all of your days. On that sunny Sunday afternoon, as I rode that lawn mower attempting to clean up my yard for spring, I never thought that Rachel’s beautiful smile would be the last smile she’d ever give me. If I had known, don’t you think I would have cherished and treasured that simple gesture so much beyond what I did?

Nowadays, I don’t blink before truly finding pleasure in that moment. Through my delight, enjoyment and love, and even through my tears, heartache and pain, I find pleasure. Why? Because my hero taught me how. She taught me how short and fragile life is and that with God by my side, I can appreciate every second of it. If there is one lesson I would want people to learn from my life and experience, it’s that life is a simple heartbeat away from death. Nothing but this very moment is guaranteed and I genuinely pray that this is a lesson that each person can learn before it has to be discovered.
 
What is Rachel’s Ray of Hope?

Like others who have lost a child, we had the desire to give back to the community and continue the legacy that Rachel began. Rachel’s Ray of Hope is a non-profit organization with very simple intentions. Show love, give hope, and inspire those in need. To do this, we don’t have one specific idea or service that we provide. We include a vast array of services and support that range from collecting food for our local food banks to providing Christmas presents for many children of struggling families in our community. We have also provided over 100 “comfort bags” to local children who are removed from their homes for various reasons with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Our goal is to bring a community together by truly setting the example of “loving thy neighbor”.

For more information about Rachel’s Ray of Hope, please visit our website at www.rachelsrayofhope.com.

with Jessica Kelley

Jessica, what is your loss story?

Nine days before Christmas, my 4-year-old son took his last breath. His life ended due to a brain tumor that was discovered less than three months prior. That was in 2012. But little Henry’s story starts well before that.

I married my husband, Ian, in 2000. Though I’d always longed to be a mother, we put off having children for eight years. We just wanted the timing to be perfect. We wanted to be financially ready and to have Ian settled in his career. I wanted to stay home and savor every second of being a mom. Finally, on July 15, 2008, Ian and I had our first baby, Henry Joseph Kelley. That’s when I realized that some of those seconds would be hard!

Some of those moments were messy and exhausting, but so many were beautiful beyond words. Henry’s bright-blue eyes and contagious laugh won over the hearts of everyone he met. Industrious and intelligent, affectionate and gentle, Henry taught us the incredible depths of parental love.

In 2010 Henry met his new best friend when our daughter Miriam was born. For the next few years, our lives were chaotic but fun. Henry and Miri taught us all about patience, self-sacrifice, and the joys of watching little ones explore their world.

In the summer of 2012, Henry began experiencing a cluster of symptoms such as trembling, loss of appetite, and sleeplessness that gradually intensified and ultimately landed us in the emergency room of a children’s hospital.

Doctors found a massive brain tumor and Henry underwent a 6-hour tumor-resection surgery just days later. A couple of weeks into our hospital stay, the diagnosis of his aggressive, malignant tumor came in. He had a rare form of cancer, a supratentorial PNET tumor in his frontal lobe.

We learned that with even the most aggressive, experimental treatments, the survival rate was very low and the treatment process grueling. So, after extensive prayer, research, and discussion, we felt peace with only one agonizing option. We brought Henry home with hospice care.

He spent the next two months surrounded by his family and friends, sleeping at night in Mommy and Daddy’s big bed, and having as many local adventures as his body would accommodate.

On December 16th, 2012, Henry passed away.

What do you want everyone to remember about Henry?

I’d like people to remember two things about Henry – the first is his laugh. I lived for that laugh. When Henry laughed, every cell in his body participated. He’d throw his head back, burst into a massive smile, and cackle from his gut. Waves of joy would emanate from his delighted little self and flood the atmosphere. His laugh was positively magnetic. It captured the attention of everyone around him, family and strangers alike. Hundreds of people laughed with Henry over the years, including strangers in line at the Post Office and passing shoppers at the grocery store. His laugh spread joy everywhere we went. No one could be sad around little Henry’s mighty laugh.

I’d also like people to know that Henry was an enormous stockpile of potential. I often saw “Future Henry” vividly.

When he started music school – I saw the concert pianist. When he preferred listening to opera singer Andrea Bocelli instead of watching cartoons – I saw the brilliant vocalist.

When he would build a city in his room, stacking random objects just so – I saw the city planner. When he demanded to know where the water went when it went down the drain and watched several videos on the water cycle – I saw the scientist. When he drew a schematic of a wastewater treatment system with markers and computer paper – I saw the engineer.

When he was gleefully surrounded by splashes of paint, ink, glitter, glue, and beads – I saw the artist. When he took thousands of photographs with my iPhone, and eventually his own camera – I saw the photographer.

When he’d play with Grandpa at the children’s museum, tirelessly manipulating levies and roadways for plastic balls – I saw the operations manager. When he went “exploring” with his daddy outside, and came home with nature’s treasures – I saw the archeologist. When his sharp mind and gentle touch met his little sister – I saw the pediatrician.

When he went silent and wide-eyed when our pretty neighbor came by – I saw flashes of the appreciative husband. When he playfully nicknamed his plump baby cousin “Baby Katato” (after Mr. Potato Head) – I saw the tender father and grandfather.

When his arms were spread wide and his heart overflowing with love – I saw the pastor, the counselor, and the friend. When we snuggled together and he finished my sentences, helping me read the books we’d enjoyed a thousand times – I saw the son who would help care for his mother in her old age, patiently reading to his fragile old friend.

I saw a thousand possible futures for my son. He was fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God, and his potential was limitless.

What impact do you want to leave on the world?

I want to invite people to wrestle with their picture of God, especially before tragedy strikes. About two years before Henry’s diagnosis, I began re-examining my assumptions about God’s character, and particularly his role in radical suffering. As a result of this wrestling, I underwent a major faith transformation, which has proved invaluable as I continue to process Henry’s loss.

I now boldly share the testimony of my faith transformation in writing and speaking engagements. I do not share to pressure anyone to forsake their conclusions about God’s role in pain, but simply to present an explanation that I believe was shared by Jesus, the New Testament authors, and the Early Church, though it has not been predominant since the fifth century.

I firmly believe in the respectful sharing of ideas, because one never knows when any particular option, or simply the permission to wrestle with another viewpoint will prove tremendously freeing to someone. In my case, receiving this beautiful understanding of God’s character, and his role in radical suffering changed everything in my life, including and ultimately, how I dealt with my little boy’s death.

My monumental shift can be summed up in three points:
1 – God is love (1 Jn 4:8, 16), a love defined by the sacrifice of the cross (1 Jn 3:16). Jesus Christ was the exact representation of God’s loving essence (Heb 1:3), and his love was most poignantly displayed on Calvary, when he gave his life for us.
2 – Scripture as a whole, and particularly the New Testament, does not support my old belief that everything happens according to a mysterious blueprint of God’s design.
3 – When tragedy strikes, I can agree with the words of Jesus in Matthew 13:28 and proclaim “An enemy has done this.” God is at war with a real adversary who seeks to steal, kill, and destroy. In the end, God will win.
 
What lessons could people learn from your life?

Passionate faith is possible even in the wake of devastating trauma. I used to wonder if I could love God, or passionately proclaim his loving character, in the event my worst fears came true. I worried about this because I assumed that God was controlling everything. I thought life unfolded according to God’s meticulous, divine plan – even when cancer cells multiplied and precious four-year-olds with mighty laughs took their last breaths.

Yet regardless of how harsh it sometimes seemed, my belief that God exercised unilateral control over the world once brought me great security. It was not something I challenged lightly. But I’m so glad that I did.

The security I used to receive from believing that God was controlling everything now pales in comparison to the joy I experience. My joy springs from the knowledge that God is actively battling injustice, disease, and death alongside us, just as Jesus did in his ministry. I now understand that God’s heart is trustworthy and his power is demonstrated through perfect, self-sacrificial love. This drives me to passionately receive and share God’s love despite my devastating loss.

My security no longer rests in the belief that God is controlling the now, but rather that He is creatively and wisely leading those who receive and reflect his love towards his desired end – an eternity of freely-chosen love. In my experience, this understanding completely redefines safety and security, and offers passionate faith, no matter the circumstance.

with Mark and Linda Triplett

Introduction

I’d like to introduce you to two friends, Mark and Linda Triplett. They are fellow bereaved parents who are making a difference in the lives of so many. After reading an article written by Linda, I contacted them to learn more about their ministry. We have corresponded many times over the past year, sharing our interests in serving others and aviation. Mark and Linda inspire and show all of us that “Love Never Fails”. Thank you for sharing your story and your son, Adam, with us.
-Todd
(Ellie’s Dad)

Mark and Linda, what is your loss story?

The loss in our life is the future that we dreamed of for our son Adam, from the time he was a just a little boy. After receiving a free ride in a friend’s airplane, Adam announced that he wanted to be a pilot when he grew up. He was only five years old then and we both knew that he would achieve it. Linda grew up in a family that loved to travel, so a pilot in the family was perfect! She began collecting jewelry that was of aviation themes.

Linda would tease Adam that she was going to plaster them all over her shirt and be standing at the window facing the plane that he would pilot for the first time. We both envisioned it; us facing the window looking directly into that little window on the airplane and seeing our handsome son in his uniform sitting in the pilot’s seat.

Our hearts would almost burst with pride at Adam’s hard work, his focus on his dream and having achieved it! His big dream was to be a captain of a 747 by the time he was 30, and we do believe that if he would have lived he would have accomplished it. We regret never having the opportunity of sitting in a passenger seat of a commercial airplane that Adam was piloting.

Adam Triplett
April 24, 1974 – August 4, 1997

Another huge loss was never having the joy of being grandparents to his babies. He loved family, he loved his grandmas and grandpas and we couldn’t wait to show him how much we would love our grandchildren; children he would never have.

The final incredibly painful loss was that Adam’s sister, Katrina, lost her best friend in the world. She lost the brother that always talked about visiting her home on Saturdays, playing cards, and watching their children play together. We have watched out daughter grieve the loss of Adam for almost 17 years now, grieving the absence of his presence at the birth of her daughter Morgan and her son Adam. Katrina is an “only child” now. We see a deep sadness in her eyes at every holiday.

Our story of loss is filled with the feeling of being robbed of a life with Adam in it.
Editor’s Note – Mark has created a wonderful web page dedicated to his son. Click here to learn all about Adam.
 
What would we want everyone to remember about Adam?

The most important thing we can think of is to just remember him, his legacy, and his life.

If someone remembers him, they remember his sense of humor, incredibly big heart, strong Christian faith, and very conservative beliefs. They would remember his colorful, warm personality and that he was an accomplished, talented trumpet player. We remember his dedication to hard work and the way he honored his mom and dad with all of his life and work. Anyone that remembers Adam, remembers an incredible man.

After Adam died, Linda’s father gave us a note that now hangs on our fridge that says, “Nobody has lived a short life that has done it with unblemished character.” That is what everyone will remember about our son.

What impact do you want to leave on the world?

We want to live forward with the hope of helping others in this hellish grief we call ‘the loss of a child’, to take the darkness of sorrow and suffering and bring the light of hope and healing to those, like us, who must live their futures without their son or daughter. We want to gift the world with Adam-like grace and service.
 
What lessons could people learn from your life?

We hope that no matter the circumstances, for grieving parents to understand that they can get through the storms of grief and come out on the other side, stronger, more compassionate, and more appreciative of what we all have right now.
 
What is LNF Ministries?

LNF Ministries is a non-profit, grief-support ministry that was initially founded to give scholarships to college freshmen in the fields of Aviation, Music or Missions, three of Adam’s passions. A few years later it readjusted into a ministry to bring comfort to newly grieving parents. That readjustment included the creation of what we now call “Love Baskets.”

Love Baskets contain resources on the grieving process, our books and comfort items. The Love Basket package is sent to parents and families that we find through the daily local obituaries, pulling the ones that have surviving parents, searching for a mailing address and finally, mail 6 – 8 weeks after the death.

We assemble the packages, print out a specially created card with the child’s name, prepare the postage to be attached and take them to the post office to be mailed. We started this ministry on Adam’s birthday, April 24, 2003, and as of the end of 2013, we had sent out over 1500 baskets. The saddest part of that number is that 90% of the names come from only one newspaper in one city – ours. And many don’t get sent because we simply can’t find an address to send them to.

These Love Baskets began because we wanted to let moms and dads starting this horrible journey of grief that they are not alone. It is such a lonely time. There are very few people that understand. There are even less that stand by your side as the years go by.

The numbers of supporters typically drop off after about 6 weeks and for sure after 3 months. Nobody “gets it” unless they have been there. That’s when the ‘aloneness’ becomes more intense and frightening to grieving parents and family.

We receive thank you letters and the number one response is that when they felt so alone and abandoned, our Love Basket arrived and let them know that they, in fact, aren’t alone, that someone does understand and cares.

We fund LNF Ministries by generous donations and 100% goes to the ministry work, with no salaried workers. All is done with volunteers. We keep up our supporters up-to-date with Newsletters on our web site. We are a non-profit 501c3 organization in Minnesota.

with Daphne Greer

Daphne, what is your loss story?

It was summer, July 16, 2008, to be exact. My son, daughter and I were on our way to daycare and work. We commuted 25 miles each way every day and were about 15 miles from home when suddenly, we hit a farm truck in the middle of the highway.

After the car came to a stop, all I could hear was my 3-year-old son, Hunter, crying hysterically in the back seat. I looked up, my windshield was shattered and the driver’s side door was caved in. I tried to open my door, but couldn’t. I climbed out the passenger side door and immediately unbuckled Hunter, consoling him as best I could. I looked and saw my daughter, unconscious in the back seat. The farm truck driver immediately came to help, as did a woman who stopped at the scene, taking care of my daughter, applying towels to her injuries.

Lydia Marie Greer
November 27, 2002 – July 16, 2008

Hunter and I sat holding each other on the side of the road waiting for help to arrive. Not knowing the extent of Lydia’s injuries, we prayed out loud together for Lydia, pleading to God to save her and make her okay. These were the longest moments of my life. Trembling from shock, I tried to call my husband but was unable to dial the phone. Thankfully, the other driver was able to dial the number for me. With my husband on the phone, I told him we had been in an accident and he needed to get there fast. Before I knew it, my in-laws arrived and took care of Hunter, as I was loaded in the ambulance.

My husband got there just as Lydia was loaded into the helicopter, in which he then drove an hour to the trauma center. Already in the ambulance and unable to move, the commotion of the responders and loud sounds of the propellers were frightening.

I was taken to the nearest hospital, in the town where I worked. They took blood, urine, x-rays, and cleaned the deep glass from my arm ending with a plethora of stitches. I suffered a broken elbow, as well as severe lacerations to my upper arm and head. The entire time, the nursing staff was excellent and took care of my every need. I remember talking with them saying, “I just want my daughter to be okay”, incessantly asking them, “How is my daughter.” Thinking about it now, I never received an answer.

Before I knew it, a couple of hours later, my husband came into the room. He looked up at me sobbing, his eyes swollen with tears falling and said, “Sissy didn’t make it.” In a moment I will never forget, I began to scream and pleaded for this not to be true.

After several hours, I was able to leave, yet before we could go, we were told we had to tell our son. The chaplain led us to a little room where my husband and I had the difficult task of telling him about his sister. We then were driven home by one of my husband's co-workers. I remember sitting in the backseat, in grey issued hospital sweats, heavily medicated, and not sure of what had just happened.

For days and weeks after, I felt like I was living a dream. I could not fathom what had happened as I waited for her to walk through the front door.
 
What would we want everyone to remember about Lydia?

Lydia was my firstborn child and a vibrant little girl, so full of life and love. She had a love for dancing, shopping, and fashion. She was very outgoing and her big personality could entertain an entire room. I like to call her the glitter glue to our family. She was the sparkle, the glitter, and glue that has held us together.

Much like her grandmother, Lydia was a girl who loved to shop, eat cinnamon rolls, drink hot chocolate, and explore what the world had to offer. She loved the spotlight, as her singing and dancing was a daily occurrence in the house. She loved people, friends, and was a social butterfly. She was a creative soul who taught me not to worry about what others think and to be comfortable with who God made me to be. She was known for her mismatched style, yet she took pride in her appearance and doing things on her own. She loved to draw and made beautiful artwork, leaving many notes and pictures around the house for us to find, long after she passed.

Lydia would often talk about God and want to know when she could meet him and go to his house. She was fascinated by her family members who passed long ago, having a deep desire to meet her great grandparents, often requesting to go to the cemetery to see them. I would smile and tell her God is always with us and how wonderful Heaven is, but that she had long life to live on earth before then. Little did I know, her time here would be brief.
 
What impact do you want to leave on the world?

After the years have gone by, I want others to see how God has worked in our lives, as well as Lydia’s. Lydia was an old soul and looking back, there were signs all around me of what was to come and , yet I wasn’t able to connect the dots.

I want to be an example for all those hurting out there due to loss, to see that it is possible to live a happy life, live with a passion and purpose. Being a family struggling with faith during those first months, we have found our true reason for being and want to show others what God has done for us during this time. By bringing joy and serving others, we can find that purpose. God still has a plan for those of us that are here; we must live to the fullest.

Most of all, I want people to realize that there can be a positive side or sweeter side to their grief. If we focus on the beautiful life that lived and keep legacies alive, incredible things can happen.

After a lengthy career in law enforcement, my focus has now changed. I was not the same person anymore and didn’t have the same heart for my job as I used to. I now find my passion in helping and serving others, recognizing the true meaning of this life we have been given. In losing Lydia, I was thrust into a devastating world of heartbreak, yet there have been remarkably positive impacts on my life as well. From new friends and relationships, to closed doors and new opportunities, life has taken me on a new path of self-discovery. I hope others will see this and get a glimmer of hope during times when the world turns dark.
 
What lessons could people learn from your life?

Bad things do happen to good people. After 14 years in law enforcement and having a fairly good life free of tragedy, I never dreamed that losing a child would happen to me. But it did. One thing I would want people to know is the importance of slowing down and listening to God and let him guide your path. Listen to what he is saying and telling you. Don’t get so consumed with everyday life that you miss those moments. Moments with God, moments with your children, moments with your family are the things that really matter. Re-evaluate your life and priorities. After going through this, looking back, I clearly see that God was with me, and how he worked in our lives, both before and after the accident.

It’s okay to smile through your grief. As time passes, it’s okay to laugh, to enjoy yourself, don’t let the devil of guilt consume you. We are still here for a reason. It’s time to live life with purpose and passion. We all need to look deep inside and find what really motivates us and makes us happy. For me, I wanted my daughter to be remembered. It was a scary first year as people did forget. I have relied on God, trusting that he will direct my path and it will be okay. I know He will make triumph out of tragedy, and He has.

Lydia’s Love was started in 2011, a non-profit that provides birthday parties to homeless and needy children. This has been a rewarding and heartfelt experience. Seeing joy in children’s lives during hard times, as they feel and know that they are special, is priceless. It has also been a wonderful way to get the community involved. From churches, to school groups, to families and organizations, Lydia’s Love has given others a positive avenue to volunteer and give back in.

In addition, I recently started blogging. Something new to me, but something I felt a calling to do. It’s called Grieving Gumdrops:-The Sweeter Side of Grief. It’s about my writing and reflections on my grief, as well as highlights those other people, books, blogs, organizations, etc., that have found meaning or a positive sweeter side of their grief. In the midst of this, I am also working on a memoir, wanting to share my story as God has wanted me to. During the past five years, I have kept a journal and now looking back; God has been with me all along and has done some miraculous and amazing things. I can’t wait to share.

by Lourie Formby (Ella's dad)

“Arise, shine; For your light has come! And the glory of the Lord is risen upon you. For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, And deep darkness the people; But the Lord will arise over you, And His glory will be seen upon you. The Gentiles shall come to your light, And kings to the brightness of your rising” (Isaiah 60:1-3).

The Spark that Lit the Flame

Friday, January 25, 2013, was a beautiful winter day. The blue sky was clear with a slight cool breeze and temperatures in the mid-60’s for most of the day in central Mississippi where we call home. My wife, Julie, called me early in the day to remind me of our meeting with friends later that night at The Back Door Restaurant, one of our favorites, located about 25 miles away in Columbia, Mississippi. I arrived home around 4:45 PM and rushed in to shower and change clothes prior to leaving for our social event that evening. As we walked out, we talked about our plans for the next day, which included working in our flower beds, attending our 5-year-old Ella’s first Upward Basketball game at the church, and then taking her to the birthday party of her best friend, Gracie.

That particular evening, we decided to take our original 1940 Chevrolet Master Deluxe Sedan, aka “Ole Bess”, a car I had purchased 20 years prior. It was ideal for the short drive we were making and with a full moon rising visibility would not be an issue. We arrived at the restaurant as scheduled and had a wonderful visit with close friends of ours. As we started to leave at approximately 7:50 PM, I stopped and showed my friend my car, and we talked for about 10 minutes. We hugged, said our goodbyes, and all piled into Ole Bess for the ride home.

As we made our way through the small town of Columbia, all three of us were in awe of the brightness of the full moon. Ella was the first to comment saying, “Look at the moon guys!” We all talked about how beautiful it was and the fact that it was so brilliant that evening. As we turned onto Hwy 44 heading east, we again discussed the plans for the following day while Ella continued to comment on the moon. I began telling her that the moon would dance through the trees and follow us all the way home. About 10 miles into the drive, I made a remark to Julie that it was very unusual to not see very much traffic on this highway. We had scarcely passed any vehicles since leaving the city limits of Columbia. Just about the time, I said that Ella reminded us that it was Friday night and that she would be sleeping with her Mommy (a new tradition we had started a few weeks before). She added, “Daddy, you’ll have to sleep in the guest room because you snore!” We all laughed and continued our small talk.

It was at this point I noticed a car approaching from behind at a very high rate of speed. I glanced down at my speedometer, and Ole Bess was holding steady at her top speed of 50 MPH. As the car moved within 100 yards or so, I looked at Julie then glanced down to my left and said, “Honey, this fool is going to attempt to pass me on a double yellow line!” I began to move my car off the road to allow the person room enough to pass if they chose to.

Those words had barely left my mouth when the approaching car impacted ours at such a high rate of speed that it threw Julie and I forward violently. Our car was lifted and began spinning out of control. I yelled, “Hang on!” All I could hear were Ella and Julie screaming in pure terror. I turned the steering wheel hard left to correct the clockwise spin, but the car was uncontrollable. Then I saw a huge oak tree directly in front of us as my car came out of the spin. I attempted to miss the tree, but the car slammed into it, ripping off the right side of the car as it absorbed some of the impact. We hit a second oak tree head-on which caused the car to violently flip, throwing Julie out the passenger side door. The antique car did have seat belts in the back but not in the front seat mainly due to the fact that they could not be installed easily.

As the car stopped, I was stunned. The car was lying on its right side trapping Ella and me inside. I yelled for Julie but she did not answer. Ella awakened and began screaming again and crying for her Mommy. I grabbed for her and unbuckled her seat belt in the darkness. I could smell gasoline and knew we needed to get out of the vehicle as quickly as we could before it ignited. I yelled for help because my left arm was broken and I could not open the driver’s door, which was now directly over my head.

Finally, a good Samaritan yanked the door open from above and assisted me in getting myself and my daughter out. Once out of the car, Ella seemed fine for the moment, so I ran towards my wife’s lifeless body about 20 yards from where the car came to rest. As I rolled her over, her entire front skull was visible and looked as if she had been scalped. Her eyes were half opened and fully dilated. She was not breathing, and I yelled for someone to please call 911. I remember whispering something to the effect of “She’s gone!”

I then ran back to Ella, and it was at that moment a lady said, “Mr. Formby, I am one of Ella’s kindergarten teachers!” When she called Ella’s name, Ella ran to her. It was then that I began to hear my Julie moaning in pain, so I ran back to her. She asked me to roll her on her side because she was having trouble breathing. I kept begging someone to please call 911, and they reassured me help was on the way. In what seemed like hours but I finally started hearing the sounds of sirens coming in the distance.

Within about 25 minutes after the collision, Julie was airlifted to the local hospital by helicopter, and Ella (still thought to be okay) and I were transported by ground ambulance. But on the 25-minute drive to the local hospital, Ella began seizing. She would never recover from her injuries and succumbed to chest and head injuries on Monday, February 4, 2013, at 10:29 AM.

Our Ministry Beginnings

The day after Ella passed away, I was contacted by a co-worker asking if it would be okay for his church to establish a memorial fund to assist us in paying our medical bills. I kindly said, “No, I don’t want to do that, but, if you wanted to start a children’s ministry, I would support it 100%.” Towards the end of that same week, my cousin sent me an email stating that Ella’s name meant “torch” or “bright light” in the Hebrew and Greek languages respectfully. This gave me an idea. I contacted the two individuals heading up the Ella Marie Formby Memorial Foundation: Children’s Ministry and asked them to change the name to Ella’s Light: Children’s Ministry.

A few days before we had Ella’s funeral, I began researching ideas for a website, logo, and the possibility of creating a 501(c)3 (nonprofit) organization. In the last week of February 2013, we met with the church accountant to discuss and make plans for the donations they had received for the ministry. We thus began to pursue 501(c)3 status which was obtained March 15, 2013. God was affirming that He was blessing us and this ministry. Within 45 days of conception, we had incorporated the ministry, filed for nonprofit status, and begun building a foundation that would have the potential of reaching thousands of children in need of the love of Jesus Christ.
 
Our Vision

Children, starting from birth are exposed to both positive and negative teachings and behaviors that they will carry with them for the rest of their lives. Our ministry believes that if we can plant the seed with our children, the love for Jesus Christ can grow in each child’s heart.
Ella’s Light Children’s Ministry, Inc. was created to keep Ella Marie Formby’s memory alive by ensuring that as many children as possible hear God’s word, come to know Him, develop a love and personal relationship with Him, and learn to serve Him through Christian programs and events provided by this ministry. Jesus told us, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14).

All donations to Ella’s Light will provide resources to rural churches that would not have adequate means to provide Christian programs and events to reach these children. These resources will provide age-appropriate bible studies and materials as well as activities for children at their biblical learning level. We understand that each child is uniquely different and God has gifted them to learn differently, therefore we pray our support to the rural church body will provide numerous opportunities for them to learn using their God-given intelligence.
 
The Take Away

I have often stated that this has to be the worst pain and heartache we have ever endured, but we both understand that God had a purpose. Although we may not ever see the full reasons for Him to allow our only child to leave us, one day we will know.

This month will be the second anniversary of that night that changed countless people. Since then, we have grown a children’s ministry that is located in Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, Texas, Alabama, Tennessee, Georgia, Florida, and in foreign countries such as Syria, Africa, and Peru. God is working to save lost souls for his kingdom. With His help and direction, we will fulfill His mission by sharing our light in an ever-darkening world. If you would like to help support our ministry, please feel free to visit our website at www.ellaslight.org and get involved.

I have often thought about the needs of the poor and downtrodden children in our communities. When we volunteer to help those in need, we are building rewards in heaven that will last for eternity, would you not agree? WE WANT CHILDREN LIVING SCRIPTURE NOT JUST LEARNING SCRIPTURE!

by Natalie Bacho (Abby's Mom)

It seems surreal to be sharing our experience of loss. With life, loss is inevitable. During our 20 years of marriage, that four-letter word has entered our life in different forms.

We’ve lived through pet loss, the passing of grandparents, and job loss. Then there are the more intimate losses. We had two miscarriages, Steve’s father passed very early in our marriage, his mother 12 years later. My mother passed at age 68 in 2010. Our parents are loved and missed. Each loss was difficult as it carries its own circumstance and journey.

Abigail Gracen Bacho
July 22, 2003 – December 25, 2012

This is how life works in the big scheme of things. However, life wasn’t supposed to unfold the way it did for us on December 22, 2012. Something this horrible doesn’t happen to our family. It shouldn’t happen to any family.

When we were asked to share our experience, it was humbling, to say the least. We are also grateful. We always view any opportunity to speak of our daughter as a gift. Our lives now are very different. Any given day is a mystery as to how it will unfold. Will the day bring tears or triumph? Plans may unexpectedly change because we hit a wall of grief. Nothing is certain anymore. Nothing is as it once seemed. Nothing that is, except for God’s grace. Without this, we can’t fathom how we could live through every parent’s worst nightmare.

Steve and I are the parents of three beautiful daughters. Three girls with very distinct and different personalities. We were always amazed at how children can be related and still be opposites. The same environment, the same rules, nurtured the same, but each has such different spirits. As our daughters grew nothing could be more evident. Our children are just who they are. They are ours to teach, guide, and love. Who they are on the inside is who God has created them to be.

We were thankful. We were also frazzled, hopeful, stressed, and doing the best we could as parents. I’ve always said, there’s no guidebook on how to do this. You follow your heart and pray. Sometimes you make mistakes and sometimes you get it right. You have unconditional love from your children and they have yours. There’s promise and beauty in that. There’s promise and beauty in so many things if we are open to it. Even through the darkest moments, if we try and see the light there is promise in this as well.

December 22, 2012, is a day that will never just be 3 days before Christmas for our family. After the hustle and bustle of getting ready for the holidays, we were dedicating a day to be together. My dad had just arrived the day before to spend Christmas with us. The girls were very excited. Steve had been working late hours leading up to the end of the year. We decided to slow down and have a day of fun. First stop, a couple of hours at the skating rink. They were just learning this new activity. Still a little wobbly but they were getting the hang of it. I can see the day play over in my mind like watching a movie. I can see their big smiles, laughter, and excitement for the days to come. A perfect way to start a well-deserved break.

Next came Saturday evening Mass. Our choice to attend church on Saturday wasn’t unusual, but I don’t have an answer as to why we made this decision. Maybe it was one more chance to reflect on Advent and the anticipation of Jesus’ birth. It was a quiet hour in church together as a family of five. I have a very vivid memory while we sat in our pew. Charlotte was 5 and could fall asleep anywhere. Her tonsils were enlarged and had been for some time. A date had been set to have her tonsils removed after the first of the year. She had fallen asleep on my lap and was snoring like an old man. We received a couple of sideways glances as her snores seemed to echo in the sanctuary. Abby got the biggest kick out of this. Trying not to break into a full laugh, she stifled her laughter to a giggle.

During this time, Abby did something that I will treasure forever. She rested her head on my shoulder as we sat side by side. When I sit quietly with my memories, I can feel the beauty of this moment. I can feel the weight of her head as her thick blonde hair brushes my neck.
By this time everyone was hungry. The next stop was dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants. We enjoyed our food as we talked about the day. Abby loved this place because it had one of her favorite items on the menu. Anything fried!

We decided to tour a local neighborhood’s Christmas lights before heading home. This was a yearly tradition while listening to our favorite Christmas music. Another decision that can’t be explained, I volunteered to drive. The rationale was that I was more familiar with the neighborhood. Not a decision that I would normally make. As we look back on this night, we know without a doubt, God was with us. He was there and has never left our sides. Even when we pulled away, He stayed.

The next few moments are embedded in my memory. We were not far from the neighborhood. The light was green as we entered the intersection. In an instant, there was a deafening booming sound. Then an immediate extreme hard jolt that caused our bodies to violently jerk as our minivan went into a jarring 360-degree spin. I lost all bearings as to where we were or what had happened. When the car stopped spinning it was smoking but still running. I was disoriented and confused about what had happened. I knew it was horrible. At the same time, I was trying to convince myself everything was going to be ok. It couldn’t be as bad as it seemed.

I instinctively turned to look behind me and the first sight was Charlotte slumped over in her car seat. I called her name with no answer. Then I looked at Steve who was sitting directly behind me. He had blood coming from his mouth. He was making a groan that I had never heard before. I took a quick glance towards his legs and could see pavement. His door was completely crushed. He couldn’t answer me as I kept calling his name to grab Charlotte.

Hannah was in the third row with Abby. She was reaching for me and crying. My dad was moaning in pain as he sat beside me in the passenger seat. Immediately, I started to hear voices. These were strangers who seemed to appear out of nowhere. These voices started yelling at me to turn the car off. I tried, but what my mind was telling me to do, didn’t connect to my hands. After a few fumbled tries I turned off the smoking engine. The passenger side wasn’t impacted and doors started to open. These heroes began helping us out of the van. Someone grabbed Charlotte as she regained consciousness. I was able to crawl across the passenger seat and stand. Hannah was then beside me by the aid of these angels helping us. As I grabbed Charlotte from the arms of a stranger, I began to ask about Abby. I remember a woman coming up to me and as she wrapped her arms around us she started to pray.

I kept checking Hannah and Charlotte and repeatedly asked them if anything hurt. Hannah started to complain of left leg pain. I knew she needed to be examined. My dad was in a great deal of pain with his back. Within minutes but felt like hours, the sounds of blaring sirens arrived. I remember thinking this is very bad but at the same time, this can’t be happening.

I never saw Steve again until I visited him in ICU. In a moment similar to being struck by lightning, in all of the confusion, I suddenly realized I had not seen Abby. I started frantically asking people where is Abby? With Charlotte in my arms and Hannah by my side, I ran back and forth between anyone I could find with a uniform pleading with them have you seen my daughter Abby? A rescue worker told me he thought she was in one of the ambulances. He led me to a rescue vehicle with an open door. As we approached it, I looked inside and saw a sight I will never forget. I saw a team working tirelessly doing chest compressions on Abby’s small limp body. I’m a registered nurse. I knew what that meant. The parental part of me couldn’t comprehend what I was witnessing.
From this moment, it was as if we were thrust into this unfamiliar, unfathomable world with no escape.

When I’ve allowed myself to look back, I can see the light of Jesus guiding us. Some moments more clear than others. The ER nurse’s name was Martha. Not a common name but a name that held a lot of meaning. Martha was my mother’s name. She lost her battle to lung cancer 2 years before. Her presence was very much missed, especially during the holidays. She was there. God was allowing me to feel the comfort of His presence through our nurse’s name.

God provided love and strength as friends and neighbors came to the ER. He was there as the police informed me there were witnesses who had seen a large truck run a red light causing our accident. God was with Abby and Steve as the family waited for their arrival to Atlanta hospitals by helicopter. Something as small as noticing one of Abby’s nurses wore zebra-striped clogs (her favorite print), told me He was there. He was present as the family came while we waited and prayed.

As it became medically clear that the injury Abby suffered was brain death, there are no words to describe what that realization is like. The reality of the situation was crushing. Abby’s inevitable death was being discussed without Steve. While I had 3 days to hold her, pray over her, talk to her, tell her how much we loved her, Steve was fighting for his own life. However, in a strange way, I never felt alone.

Abby was bigger than life. She was determined, strong-willed, and compassionate. She loved being with family and always wanted to be on the go. She craved the spotlight and let her imagination take her from the stage to the classroom as she pretended to be a teacher. Abby admired and aggravated her older sister. She protected and mothered her younger sister. She was a good friend and kids seemed to be drawn to her. Abby had a beauty and smile that lit up the room. Her contagious laugh could brighten the darkest of days. She was discovering the vastness of God’s promises through her weekly religious education classes. She was not perfect. We had our arguments. She could be difficult. Her fiery spirit could leave you fuming. Her compassion for others was just as fierce.

Knowing Abby’s heart and who she truly was under her shell and knowing what only a parent can know of their child, it was never a question that Abby would want to give life to others through organ donation. She would want others to live, to laugh, and to love. With my 2 sisters and aunt (my mother’s sister) by my side, I watched as Abby was wheeled out of the ICU room to give the most precious of all gifts on Christmas Day, the gift of life. Before letting her go, I studied her. I wanted the impression of everything about her embedded in my mind.

It would be 4 weeks before Steve would know we had lost Abby. He had been in a medically induced coma to give his body a fighting chance. There were moments that were unclear if he would survive. Looking back, there is no answer as to why or how I could function. Only the love shown by family and friends and God’s grace can answer that.

Just as there is no guidebook for parenting, there is no reference on how to do this. Nothing to give answers to the heartbreaking questions. It’s true what other parents of child loss share. It is a physical pain. Your mind can’t process much. I believe this is another way God’s grace allows your spirit and body to catch up with each other. Everything is different, family dynamics, relationships, marriage. Steve and I didn’t face this together. Our grief has never been in the same place. He had to recover physically before his grief process could begin.

The one thing we had together was our faith. Who else could we turn to? Who knew our fear and our pain with no words? How could we explain the loss of Abby to her sisters when we didn’t have the answers? Only God could carry us through this, individually and as a family. The generous giving of strangers was a way God provided in many forms. Through financial, spiritual, and personal means our family was being cared for. There are no words for the gratitude we have for so many. These gifts sustained us and gave us hope that through the darkest of days, a light was still leading the way.

This light and force kept tugging at us. Through the rawness of the loss of our daughter, we knew that Abby’s life mattered too much to just end. Our circumstance was out of our control, but we could control what happened next. Lives had to be touched by Abby’s precious life. There was no other option. We would start a foundation to help others in Abby’s honor. Children will know her as their friend and she would continue to make people smile.

With our dedicated family and others who were placed in our lives, for this reason, Abby’s Angels Foundation was created in August of 2013. This foundation encompasses everything Abby and emulates her spirit. Hand made bracelets originally created by Abby’s cousins, whom she adored, are the foundation’s symbol of our faith and Abby’s life. Nothing reflects Abby more than an accessory and a little bit of bling.

Proceeds from the sales of the bracelets help fund the mission of Abby’s foundation. Purchasing a bracelet supports Abby’s Closets. These are special spaces that provide school supplies to underprivileged students. Wearing a bracelet shares Abby’s life and creates awareness of the dangers of distracted driving for all age groups, especially teen drivers. The work will continue to evolve and be on the go, just as Abby was in life. The work will keep her present in our lives and in the lives of others.

Sometimes it’s unclear as to how we got to this place. Other days it is very clear. Moments take shape like hills and valleys. Some parts of the day can be positive and productive. Other parts fall into pieces and are painfully confusing. You can’t anticipate what will bring joy and what might bring tears. You breathe in and out. You take each day literally one day at a time.

Honestly, we don’t know how to be a member of this club called child loss. We didn’t want to join. We want our daughter back to watch grow into who she was meant to be. We want to hear all 3 of our daughter’s voices tell us good morning each day. What we want and what we have planned doesn’t always come to be. We will always miss Abby every moment of every day. It may not be for us to know why this happened and why our lives took such an unexpected turn.

What we can do is mention her name every day and talk about her as we laugh and cry. Through memories, we remind Hannah and Charlotte of their lives together. We can still parent her through the work of her foundation and feel her strong guidance. We can help others through her giving spirit. We will continue to pray and seek God’s grace and light through the darkness. We will turn to our faith and the promise of being together as a family of five, enjoying our days together once again.

by Jennifer White

On July 19th, 2011 my brother, Andrew, called me. I was getting ready for a meeting, so I didn’t pick up his call. He texted and told me to call him as soon as possible. I leaned against the wall of the bathroom in my apartment, part of me knowing my world was about to shatter. My mom, Joanie, had taken her own life after a long battle with mental illness and alcoholism. Suicide burst into my life, like an intruder, breaking things I thought I’d have forever, stealing my sense of security and knocking me to the ground.

In the beginning, my mom’s suicide was a shadow cast over the memory of her life and the future of mine. It felt like the only way to define her life and the only thing that had ever happened in mine. As time passed, the shadow began to recede and I realized suicide was the ending, but it wasn’t my mom’s whole story, and it certainly wasn’t going to be my entire story. I decided I would put suicide into its proper place in both of our lives.

When I think of my mom’s life now I think of her laugh. I imagine her, head tilted back, eyes closed. Her laugh was never loud. It was gentle and contagious. I think of how she always seemed to know if one of her friends was going to be alone on a holiday. How she’d send food if she couldn’t be with them herself. I think of all the lives she touched, through her work as a nurse and through her friendships. Suicide is what happened in the darkest moment of her life. I wouldn’t want my life to be judged by the things I’ve done in my most despair-filled moments, so I won’t judge my mom’s existence by her suicide either. My mom’s death is now an event that happened. It is the most horrifying, terrible thing that I’ve experienced, but it is not the only thing. I have also graduated from college, changed careers, gotten married, adopted a dog and bought a home. I’ve experienced heartbreak and rejection, turmoil and other stresses. My mother was mentally ill and an addict, but she also loved children. She was always the first adult on the ground to play with a toddler and the first friend to buy a onesie for a baby on the way. She was often difficult to be around because her depression was so dark and masterful, but anyone who ever had one of her chocolate chip cookies knows they will never taste a cookie that good again in all their life. And that’s who she was. And that’s the greatest lesson she could give me and the one I apply to my grief most often. We are all multi-faceted, dynamic creatures. We all contain darkness and light. I hope my life won’t be defined by my darkest, private moments or the most visible, generous ones. I hope it will be defined by my journey in between and through those moments.

The most painful part of my grief is the knowledge that I will never see my mom again. I will never hear that laugh or receive another gift from her. I don’t have any more opportunities to fight with her or to work through our differences. She will never meet my children or know me as an adult. That’s the pain that takes my breath away, that knocks me down in the middle of a song or the smell of a stranger on the street.

Two years after my mom’s death I started volunteering in memory of her. She taught me the importance of giving back to others and I thought volunteering might help me connect to some of the positive memories that were hidden beneath the tragedy of her suicide. One day I volunteered through the city of Los Angeles to clean up an elementary school. I was assigned to paint crew. I spent all day painting a huge wall blue and I remembered a story my dad had told me about my mom, a story from when they were young in their careers as a surgeon and a nurse, my mom had volunteered to paint Sesame Street characters on the walls of the children’s ward. Remembering that story made me feel deeply connected to my mom. To the woman she was and the mother she was to me, not to the way in which she died. As I drove home from volunteering that day I realized I could capture the experience I’d had that day and give a version of it to other people. I created Hope After Project, a program where I build memorial community service projects inspired by people who have died. These acts of community service help those who are grieving honor their loved ones in a positive, productive way. Every Hope After Project is custom built based on the needs of those who are grieving and the life of the person we’re remembering. We’ve planted flowers in memory of a husband, socialized shelter cats in memory of a brother, cared for trees in memory of a father, served meals to cancer patients in memory of a mother and spent time with homeless youth in memory of a son. Hope After Project gives me the opportunity to walk beside other grievers and to make the world a better place in memory of some incredible people who I never got to me in life, but who I feel so connected to.

At Hope After Projects, I’ve seen grievers turn corners and connect with people who will become friends. I’ve seen families change in front of my eyes as they plant flower bulbs that will bloom, or thrust rakes into the ground, or chat with cancer patients who share the same diagnosis as their deceased loved ones. I build community service events in memory of peoples’ loved ones and then I watch as they lift rocks, or paint walls or feed animals, all while feeling the freedom to say their loved one’s name whenever they want, or take pictures with new friends, cry without explanation or close their eyes against the rays of the sun.

Sometimes people ask me if Hope After Project helps me see the “good” in my mother’s death. The answer is simple and it is no. What Hope After Project does for me is put my grief, the pain of my mother being gone and the fact of her suicide in its rightful place. I call it the grey space. It’s a place where the memory of my mom’s laugh doesn’t negate her alcohol-induced rage. It’s a place where she was infinitely generous and made a decision to take her own life. It’s a place in my soul where I can watch healing occur and feel tremendous gratitude to be exactly where I am without feeling happy that my mother is dead. It’s the place where I heal.

Visit Jennifer’s website, www.hopeafterproject.com, to learn more about memorial community service projects that help the grieving find hope.

by Nancy Wickett

The phone rang. It was 7:34 am. I grabbed it before it rang the second time. (Had I been asleep, I wondered?) It was my husband, Don.
“Is Philip in his room?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is the van home?”
“Yes, why?” My heart started beating faster.
Don blurted out… “I just got this email he sent to all of us and it says, ‘Goodbye Forever…’”

My heart sank. I dropped the phone. I quickly went to the hall–Philip’s bedroom door was OPEN! He was gone. I told Don to come home and get me.

Philip Hagan Wickett
September 6, 1983 – March 1, 2007

I’m not sure how I got through the next 8 to 10 minutes waiting on my husband. I prayed. Philip lived alone in an apartment, but he had stayed the night with us. And we spent a lot of time talking and listening to him. He had been depressed. I assured him that things would get better.

We arrived to Apartment E, and his door was locked. We banged on his door and no answer. I told Philip we wouldn’t be angry at him–“PLEASE open the door…”

Don went to get the manager to open the door. Philip was lying face down on his living room floor. He had used a gun to kill himself. I will never forget that horrible sight. It is embedded in my mind forever. My precious baby boy was was dead. Philip was 23. It was Thursday, March 1, 2007.

I was in shock! How could I go on living without Philip in my life? I saw him almost every day. He was my youngest child. I knew he was ill. He had been seeing a psychiatrist for two years and had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. He also talked about suicide but always promised he would never kill himself. I prayed for Philip — without ceasing it seemed — to be healed.

Philip started showing signs of depression when he was 20. He had moved out of our house and into his apartment about one mile away. We thought he might just be lonely in his apartment. He still came home every day. He also complained about back pain and leg pain. Sometimes he walked with a noticeable limp. He said the medication helped at times and other times it didn’t.

He began talking about suicide. We were frantic. We met with the psychiatrist who told us Philip was too bright and his IQ was too high; assuring us that Philip wouldn’t kill himself. I didn’t buy that. I begged Philip to see another psychiatrist, but he liked this doctor and wouldn’t change. I listened to Philip tell me he hated his life and how he wanted to die. I prayed with him and for him. I promised him that those feelings would pass. Things would get better. He would have days that were a little bit better every once in awhile – that was such a relief to see! But then, the blackness of depression would drape over his whole body again. And I would see my son drown. I couldn’t save him. My love wasn’t enough.

The perfect storm was brewing. A relationship with a girlfriend ended. Philip had a well-paying job at a computer company, but he was unhappy there. He just quit showing up for work. After attempts to get him to come back, the company fired him. Philip was involved in a car accident. He called me to pick him up because his car would no longer run. We assured him that night that he could drive another vehicle and that everything would work out in time. We didn’t convince him.

I worried about Philip, and he knew I did. I shared my faith with him often. He knew I prayed for him. I told Philip I could never live without him. He promised me that I wouldn’t have to.

I am hesitant to say I lost Philip, because I didn’t really “lose” him. I know where he is — Philip is healed now in Heaven. He is no longer in pain and has no more tears. “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelation 21:4

After he killed himself, I never thought I could go on. I barely did. I was in shock, and that protected me for a long while. I was a walking zombie for over a year. Even after that first year, I couldn’t stop sobbing. All I could think about was Philip, and how desperately I missed him! It was the worst pain imaginable. The days were long and lonely – the nights were the same. I either slept all the time, or could not sleep for many days. I gained 50 pounds. I was agitated and mean-spirited towards my family. I hurt them. It was a miserable time.

As a suicide griever, I would face the stigma of suicide often. The pastor had told us that God was waiting for Philip with open arms. I held onto what he said. I found out that many church-goers were raised to believe that anyone who dies by suicide goes to hell. I reminded them that this is not based on any Bible scripture. Suicide is not an unpardonable sin. Healthy people do not want to die. People who complete suicide are ill.

I questioned what I could have done differently and I blamed myself. Even though Philip had left us a long handwritten letter full of love and many caring thoughts, I was still left with the question, “why?” Suicide grief includes a lot of guilt and shame along with the pain and suffering.

Someone asked me if I had forgiven Philip. “Why?” I asked. “He was ill” …would I need to forgive him if he had died from cancer? I thought. I gave the question more consideration. No mother should ever have to bury her child…ever… No parent should have to. Philip was ill, yes. I still had to forgive him for the pain he had put me through. But even more, I needed Philip to forgive ME for failing him as a Mom. I was supposed to protect him from all things bad and evil. I was supposed to keep him safe. I could not fix his problems and make things all better for him. I needed God to forgive me too. I did so many things wrong. So pleading for Philip’s forgiveness and for God to forgive me was overwhelming. It was very easy to forgive my son Philip for completing suicide. He didn’t kill himself to cause me pain. He did it to end his. I forgive him. I also had to forgive myself.

The legacy Philip left was one of love. Philip won’t be defined by the way he died, but in the manner of how he lived. He was high-spirited and loved others in a big way. Sometimes he hugged me full force and tried to lift me as he squeezed, or sometimes he would just gently kiss me on the forehead when he said goodbye. Everyone knew Philip for his sense of humor and the way he could make you laugh. He was generous. He would help just about anyone in need. He was so compassionate and kind. He was a computer wiz and an amazing singer. He was loyal to his family and stayed in close contact. He was 6′-4″ tall, and I looked up to my son in so many ways. I am very proud of him.

Since Philip’s suicide, I have been active in the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention “Out of the Darkness Walks” with my husband Don, raising $1,580 to date for TEAM PHILIP HAGAN WICKETT. (www.afsp.org)

I have also found that people do not like to discuss suicide even though it is the second-leading cause of death for people ages 15-29. It happens every 40 seconds around the world. I try to offer other grieving moms encouragement, hope, understanding, and empathy on Facebook support groups called Mothers of Suicide and Mothers Against Suicide.

I finally feel like I can reach out to others and offer hope. I am becoming more involved with a suicide prevention program, HeartlLine of Oklahoma. (www.heartlineoklahoma.org)

Also, I have begun to share my life as a volunteer tutor. I have helped two elementary girls with reading skills in the last three years at Whiz Kids. (www.whizkidsok.org)

Things are easier. The pain is less raw; it has softened. My mind is not consumed with thoughts of Philip like it once was. I miss Philip and think of him often every day. I think about all the things Philip is missing and that makes me sad. I always assumed that his bipolar disorder was temporary. But I will never know for sure. I only know that I hated to see him suffer with such despair and anguish. He is now at peace with God.

We have a picture above our mantle I bought several years before Philip died. You see Jesus’ face embracing someone in a hug. Underneath that the caption reads “Come to Me!” With the Bible verse “[I will] bind up all the brokenhearted… [and] comfort all who mourn…” Isaiah 61: 1-2

No one will EVER replace Philip in my life. He is my son. I know the true meaning of being brokenhearted. Suicide grief over a child is horrible…and seems unbearable. Only God makes it bearable.

I could not have survived without God’s comfort He provided me. I never thought I would smile or laugh again. I’ve been blessed to have family stick by my side and love me when I wasn’t very lovable. I am so thankful for that. I have a grateful heart. I survived the horrible suicide of my son and this grief journey. My surviving child James and his wife have blessed me with two amazing little granddaughters. They bring me much JOY! It’s awesome to be their Nana! I never thought I would feel joy again. I do!

I will never “get over” Philip’s suicide. I am not the same person. I would rather go the rest of my life missing Philip than never having him in my life at all. It is such a blessing to be his Mom. I will miss him forever.

If you, or anyone you know, feels hopeless or depressed or just needs to talk to someone…PLEASE CALL the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

by Rachel Marie Rodriguez

There comes a time in your life when you see your existence through a whole different set of eyes. Sometimes, through tragedy you find a deeper appreciation for this thing called life and all it entails.

On August 12, 2011 my life was to take a life shattering turn. I received a phone call that my grandson Malaikye was taken to the Emergency Room after an apparent fall. For 3 long days we prayed and prayer for a Miracle. A Miracle that would open our baby’s eyes and eventually be able to have him discharged from the hospital. My faith remained as I knew God was hearing our emotional pleas for Him to breathe life into our baby who was being kept alive by a ventilator.
Sadly, that Miracle didn’t come and we had the painful task of having to say goodbyes to our precious Malaikye. Witnessing my son Daniel fall to his knees on the hospital floor in disbelief, agony, and emotions crushed me to my core.

As a parent, all I wanted to do was bring some sort of comfort to my son. What could I say? What could I do to take this away from him? Absolutely nothing. This was a double edged sword for me. I had lost my grandson, and in a way, I was losing a part of my son. I knew he would never be the same. He adored his little boy and I always absolutely beamed with pride as I would sit back and watch him be a father to his “little monkey”. The only thing I knew to do was to Pray and remind my son of God’s Promises.

On August 15, 2011 our Malaikye entered the Gates of Heaven. But, not before he changed the lives of four people in desperate need. My son Daniel in the powerlessness of his grief, chose to donate Malaikye’s organs. Our baby was used by God to save the lives of four strangers. The reality of this is that God did grant a Miracle that day. He granted four! He answered the fervent prayers of parents, grandparents, sisters, brothers and friends of these recipients. And for this, we are eternally grateful that others did not have to suffer the loss of their family member. The ages of his recipients ranged from 9 months to 65 years old.

You see, throughout this journey from day one our family has been a testament of a Family of God. Where there was reason to unleash our anger towards all those responsible, we held our tongues, and continue to do so because we KNOW that God will reveal all in His Timing. After a long an emotional fight for justice, the person responsible for taking his life was sentenced to 25 years to life.

It was agonizing to remain restrained in a courtroom for 3 years, but it is one of the truest of testaments that we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us! If it were not for our faith and trust in our just God this could have turned out so differently. We continue to walked confidence fully knowing that God would administer justice according to His perfect will.

Today, the judicial part of the journey is over and the murderer has been held accountable. For many, this would leave someone numb and filled with rage over this loss. I chose to persevere and find some positivity. I have chosen to honor my grandson’s memory through acts of service. In his memory I became a Donate Life Ambassador. I am grateful to embrace the platform this gives me to not only share Malaikye’s story but to bring awareness to the beauty of organ donation. Yes, my grandson is the face of child abuse; an epidemic plaguing our country, but also on a positive note, he is the face of Hope given through organ donation. Today, we live life knowing Justice was served for Malaikye. Our court journey may be over, however, I continue to come alongside other families as they await their turn for justice.

In honor of my grandson, I have taken a hobby of mine and am using it to bring joy to others. I make memorial pieces such as bracelets, key chains and necklaces for those who have lost loved ones. Being of service and learning how one of these handmade pieces brings a smile to a loved one’s family is a form of healing through my loss. Spreading the Love of Christ as it was so freely given to me at my time of tragedy, now it’s my turn at paying it forward to help another family just beginning to walk their painful journey. In all things I do, I do to honor Christ first and foremost. I pray my actions always reflect what I so believe in. I know I will see my grandson one sweet day…for Eternity.

My son Daniel is an amazing young man that even with this constant pain over his loss, he remains a young man of integrity, strength, and positivity. And for that, God has blessed him with his sense of renewed life in the form of the birth of another son; Daniel Jr. I cannot say how very proud I am of my son and his decision to save others amid his loss.

Since Malaikye’s passing we continue to live life. It’s not easy because grief comes to visit us. Some days are harder than others. Days like his birthday or the anniversary of his passing are still emotional. I have made it my purpose in life to continue to share him with whomever God has placed in my path. So as the anniversary of his passing quickly approaches, we celebrate the life of a perfect little boy that I was honored to be grandmother too. Some ask, “How have you been able to endure such a horrific tragedy and keep your faith intact?” To this I reply, I must remember that I am not alone for the Lord is by my side. He has not forsaken me. He has guided me – without my being aware at times. I have seen and felt God in all of the ways that people have reached out to us and have felt strengthened by the numerous prayers lifted to the heavens on our behalf. He works through others to provide loving support, guidance and healing. I have felt His comfort, remember His promises and I take one step in front of the other.

I have to keep it real and say there have been times that I feel I have taken huge steps backwards but we must be thankful for a God who shows grace and turns us in the right direction. The Word of God is alive and living in each one of us if only we believe. If you haven’t taken the time to put the Word in your spirit, then it cannot feed your soul and body. So, take the time to put on your spiritual oxygen mask and inhale the promises of a loving Father, who wants to revive you and see you thrive and prosper. You mean more than the world to Him. So much so, that He sent His son Jesus to die for you (John3:16)

God has held to His Promises. He never gave me more that I could handle. He gave me strength in my weakness. He strengthened my Faith and was a lamp post to my feet in time of need. I have come to learn that there are many things God did not promise. He does not promise Justice on earth. God keeps score. He promises to heal the wounded, reward the faithful, and punish the wicked (2 Corinthians 5:10). But He doesn’t promise to do any of that until after heaven and earth are remade without the curse of sin. He promises justice. He does not promise swift justice. One sweet day I will be reunited with my beautiful grandson. But, in the meantime I will wait patiently and love life and embrace God’s grace given to me daily.