Tag: death

Mourn with Those that Mourn

stephaniemoorewrites

There is so much pain in the world.

On Monday my mind clouded, thinking about the knock.

The knock that every military family dreads.

Their serviceman or servicewoman wasn’t coming home.

Within the minute it takes them to answer the door, their life will never be the same.

Then, on the same day, George Floyd’s last pleading words are caught on video as he was murdered.

Last words.

Some of his last words were very similar to Rory’s last words.

I’ve thought a lot about George’s family.

Their haunting minutes, the ones that forever changed their lives, are viral for everyone to see.

Their pain is everywhere.

George was a father. Son. Brother. Friend.

I mourn with them.

And I’m listening.

Not only to their pain but to those that share their same fear. That because of the color of their skin their loved one might not come home safely.

I hear you.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

When There’s So Much Loss

stephaniemoorewrites
The grandsons carrying Dorothy.

Loss.

So much loss.

After we received the call about the death of my mother-in-law, Dorothy, I curled up in bed, crying.

I thought, “How will we move forward? How do we keep going? It’s too hard. Life’s too painful.”

As my thought was concluding I got an immediate impression.

“You’re not alone. You’ve done this. You weren’t alone then and I won’t leave you now.”

These last two years have felt heavy, hard, and impossible.

But as a family we’ve done the impossible with help from family, friends, and Him.

Faith. That’s been the key for me.

We’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other because we believe we’re going to see these loved ones again.

I’ll take a deep breath and hugs my boys through their sorrow because I believe we’re building a family that’ll last into forever.

I’ll cling to my husband as we weather yet another storm because I love him and I have faith that there’s something more for us than this life.

Faith isn’t easy. In fact it can be downright hard.

But we’ve experienced loss before so we know the work it’s going to require.

And we know we’re not alone.

So we’ll keep trusting. Keep believing.

We’ll keep hoping.

Loss Can Happen So Quickly

stephaniemoorewrites

My thoughts have been on the New Zealand volcano eruption.

Most of the deceased were on a cruise.

They’d saved up their money.

Excitedly told their family about the new adventure they would be going on.

Hopefully they hugged their loved ones. Then probably told them, “See you in 12 days.”

While cruising, they embarked on a tour, to see something new, to see a volcano.

And life will never be the same for any of them.

Or for their loved ones.

My heart breaks for their families.

Life can change so quickly.

It can go from high to low in ten beats of the heart.

Part of me wants to hold onto my men and huddle in a shelter.

But we know too well that loss can happen when you’re sitting at the feet of a loved one, watching and caring for her.

Lance and I will be on that boat, on that cruise, in 80 days.

Part of me is ready to hand in my ticket.

I can’t go!

Look at that loss!

What about my boys?

So, what do I do?

All I can think of is to take every moment I can and make it count.

Lance and I will be celebrating 20 years of marriage. And we made BIG plans.

We’re traveling to destinations we’ve dreamed about visiting together. And making it happen.

I don’t want to live in fear.

I want to live.

But I promise we will not be visiting any volcanoes.

So Many Deaths

stephaniemoorewrites

I have a degree in history.

I’ve studied about many wars. Many struggles. Many deaths.

It wasn’t until I started to work at the National Archives and read personal accounts that something became blatantly clear.

These were sons I was reading about.

Daughters.

Fathers.

Mothers.

Sisters.

Brothers.

Uncles.

Aunts.

From that point on as I read about history, it was personal. The people that were dying on the pages meant something to someone else. Probably lots of someone elses.

And since Rory’s death, I’ve taken it one step further.

Their deaths are an empty seat at the table.

At the movie.

In the car.

In the pew at church.

When going on vacation.

Everywhere.

From November 13th, 2017, there will always be someone missing from our family.

I used to feel bad when deaths would occur, now it’s almost debilitating.

These mass shootings.

I can’t even.

So many families.

The sorrow, grief, fear that are taking over their lives.

I hope this isn’t a norm for our future. For my boys’ future.

Something has to change.

Please.

Something has to change.

My heart and love goes out to the victims’ families.

Too many empty seats.

What Can I Do?

stephaniemoorewrites

There are a couple of questions that I get asked quite a bit. One being:

What can I do for people who are grieving?

It’s a great question without an easy answer. Every grieving person is different. In fact, every grieving family member mourns differently.

But I think it boils down to two main things: show up with love and be patient.

Show up

Showing up will look different depending on the person grieving and the relationship you have with them.

Are you a Facebook friend or a best friend? Show up according to your familiarity with that person.

Show up with a dinner. That’s wonderful because food is the last thing a grieving person wants to think about.

Show up and sit on their couch with them. Listen. Express love. Let them tell stories of the deceased. Tell them stories of the deceased.

Show up with cards.

Show up with emails.

Show up at the funeral.

Show up with flowers.

Show up with treats.

Show up with hugs.

Show up well after the death. Your life moved on. Theirs didn’t. Show them their loved one isn’t forgotten.

When you show up, show up with patience and understanding.

Those of us grieving are messed up.

Our emotions are at the surface. There’s a really great chance we’re going to cry. If you can ride out that emotion with us, we’re grateful we had an opportunity to talk about our loved one. To connect with another in our mourning.

Be patient with planning. Each day brings difficulties with it. Be understanding if your grieving friend is late or has to cancel. If your grieving friend has a spouse or kids, he/she is trying to juggle other people’s grief and needs as well.

Be patient with responses. Especially right after the death, my phone exploded with messages and notes of love. I read each one, they were beautiful and I was grateful. But I didn’t have the energy to respond. Be understanding of their emotional and physical limitations.

My best advice:

Show up with zero expectations, bringing in all the love.