Tuesday, September 5, marked 11 years since our precious Mandy died. Words can't begin to convey how much we miss her; it's a constant hole in our hearts that I suppose will never fully close. If we're honest, I guess we don't really want it to, because that might mean we've left her behind even though we know that is not the case. We appreciate how you indulge us (that means me) as we blow your newsfeed up with picture after picture....I know you've seen them all a million times, but they are all we have left until we see her again in eternity.
The moment you conceive a child, a part of your heart and soul belongs to that child FOREVER. Whether they never live a day outside of the womb or live until we are old and gray, having them die before us is perhaps the most painful thing a mother and father can ever face. Having experienced this, I feel obligated to walk with other hurting mommas that cross my path. I am not a counselor, and I can't take away the hurt, but I am willing to share the journey, even though it sometimes means I keep reliving my own. Certainly, I can't understand what it is like to watch your child die of cancer, or be killed in cold blood, or die before you ever get to hold them, or kill themselves via suicide or drugs, or even what it's like when YOUR child dies in a freak, tragic accident. All those situations are completely unique, but they all leave a momma spending the rest of her earthly existence missing a piece of her heart and soul.
Here are some other things I DO understand:
I understand that even when there is NOTHING you could possibly have done, you'll always feel deep down in your heart that your child's death is somehow your fault.
I understand that you'll go over every single minute of your child's life and beat yourself up over and over for each time you weren't the kind of parent you wanted to be.
I understand that if there was an illness or accident involved, you'll wonder if you had just tried this treatment or asked the doctor to do this or asked them not to do that, maybe your child would still be alive.
I understand that you'll always believe that if you'd just prayed a little harder, God would have spared your child.
I understand that after one child dies, you'll constantly feel that you are failing your remaining children because you can't be the mom they want or need anymore.
I understand that you want to "fix it" for your other children or for your spouse and you never can or never will but you still keep trying.
I understand that you'll feel as though you are failing your spouse, your other family members and your friends because you will NEVER be the person they once knew.
After 11 years, here are some other things I understand:
I understand that one day, you'll wake up and your child's death won't be the first conscious thought of the day.
I understand that one day, you'll make it all the way to lunch, then dinner, then maybe a whole week without crying and know that it doesn't mean you've left your child behind or forgotten them.
I understand that one day, you'll laugh without feeling guilty because you "shouldn't" laugh after your child died.
I understand that one day, you'll be able to smile and not cry when you hear stories you've never heard about your child.
I understand that one day, you'll be able to reach out to another mom who is grieving, not without crying, but with strength, grace and dignity to show them that they, too, will eventually be able to understand all these things as well.
Jesus calls us to be His hands and feet to a world full of hurt and pain in whatever way we can. If I can do that by sharing the journey with another momma who has to walk this road for reasons neither of us will ever understand, I've given meaning to Mandy's death in ways that I could have never imagined.
I understand that you'll go over every single minute of your child's life and beat yourself up over and over for each time you weren't the kind of parent you wanted to be.
I understand that if there was an illness or accident involved, you'll wonder if you had just tried this treatment or asked the doctor to do this or asked them not to do that, maybe your child would still be alive.
I understand that you'll always believe that if you'd just prayed a little harder, God would have spared your child.
I understand that after one child dies, you'll constantly feel that you are failing your remaining children because you can't be the mom they want or need anymore.
I understand that you want to "fix it" for your other children or for your spouse and you never can or never will but you still keep trying.
I understand that you'll feel as though you are failing your spouse, your other family members and your friends because you will NEVER be the person they once knew.
After 11 years, here are some other things I understand:
I understand that one day, you'll wake up and your child's death won't be the first conscious thought of the day.
I understand that one day, you'll make it all the way to lunch, then dinner, then maybe a whole week without crying and know that it doesn't mean you've left your child behind or forgotten them.
I understand that one day, you'll laugh without feeling guilty because you "shouldn't" laugh after your child died.
I understand that one day, you'll be able to smile and not cry when you hear stories you've never heard about your child.
I understand that one day, you'll be able to reach out to another mom who is grieving, not without crying, but with strength, grace and dignity to show them that they, too, will eventually be able to understand all these things as well.
Jesus calls us to be His hands and feet to a world full of hurt and pain in whatever way we can. If I can do that by sharing the journey with another momma who has to walk this road for reasons neither of us will ever understand, I've given meaning to Mandy's death in ways that I could have never imagined.
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