Tag: loss of a child

Brain Problems

stephaniemoorewrites

I’ve read articles where experts talk about the affects of grief on the brain. The idea that people in the depths of grief don’t have the same brain function as they did before.

There’s truth to that.

I can’t speak to the science. I have no idea. I can speak to my everyday brain.

I have always been a scheduled person. I want plan out days, weeks, months.

I was eager to plan holiday celebrations.

I loved planning vacations.

I was on time and kept my life and my family’s life in order.

Man, that’s not how my life runs anymore.

I have to calendar every event. If it’s not in my phone, I won’t remember it.

Planning activities feel so overwhelming. If it’s more than three steps then it’s too much for me. We’re winging way more than we used to.

The number of times I open my computer to look something up, or turn on my phone, or walk into another room and completely forget what I’m doing. It’s UNREAL! Things are gone from my brain in seconds! I mean, I did that occasionally before, but now, it’s off the charts.

Between Lance and I, we pull off vacations together, each taking a part. Even then, it’s not planned out like it once was.

One of the things I’ve noticed is that my brain is constantly trying to process grief. Every minute, it’s working through the trauma, the sadness, the missing, the strategies to get my family and me through this hard life.

This leaves a lot less brain power for the everyday.

When people say that grief affects every aspect of people’s lives, it’s true.

Down to everyday functioning.

Down to brain power.

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.

Painful Todays

stephaniemoorewrites

The past month has been painful.

There have been triggers that I can point to that take up mental and emotional space. Which is already limited for me.

But I think a big part of it is: a settling in and a question.

In my mind this is what I’ve allowed myself to think:

Rory has moved on.

My baby girl passed away.

But I’ve expanded my verbiage to include:

My daughter is dead.

Those all mean the same thing. Different words. But words are important to me and I haven’t allowed myself to use that word much.

Died.

Dead.

They’re final.

My daughter will never walk through my door again.

Done. That’s it.

It’s not a new thought! I’ve been living with it for one year, seven months, and nine days.

What I’ve been getting stuck on is this.

How do I live the rest of my life with my daughter being dead?

It feels endless. The pain. The waiting. The getting by. It’s endless.

How do I live a whole life with my boys when I’m broken with pieces missing?

People do it.

Bereaved moms have reached out to me. They’ve survived decades now without one of their children.

I just struggle to understand how I’m going to do it. My ultimate hope of being with her again is death.

That’s what I’m straddling. My life here with the boys is important. I want to be here! But the life I hope to find in Heaven with Rory is equally important. I want to be there!

I have one foot planted firmly here on earth, loving my family. And one foot ready to jump to the other side.

It’s overwhelming.

I’ve been trying to take a step back. To focus on today.

Love today.

Care today.

Hug today.

Give cuddles today.

Spend time today.

Serve today.

I can make it through today.

Then tomorrow I’ll start again.

I’ll put that on repeat.

Though, I’m broken and not the mom or wife or woman I once was, I love my boys and husband with all I have left.

I can’t foresee the struggle between the two worlds ever changing.

But I’m working to bring a little Heaven to earth.

To include Rory in my work from day to day. To serve and love with her and for her.

Jesus Christ is my Hope.

He lives.

She lives.

With that hope, I’ll make today count.

And tomorrow.

And every day I’m gifted after that.

She’ll Never be a Teen

stephaniemoorewrites

I love watching my boys grow.

Being a teenager isn’t easy.

They’re trying to figure out who they are.

Who they want to be.

They’re forming their ideologies and questioning what they’ve been told.

They’re learning about friendships.

They’re having their first real crushes.

It’s an honor to stand beside my boys as they find themselves.

But as the boys outgrow me, the reality is hitting me.

Rory will forever be eight in my mind.

She won’t grow past that.

I can speculate.

I can wish.

But it doesn’t change the reality.

I won’t see Rory grow into a teenager.

No girl drama.

No late night talks.

No rom coms.

No talking about her first love and her first broken heart.

No getting ready for her first date.

No teenage fun.

Teenage years can be so hard to navigate.

But it would have been privilege to walk beside Rory.

The Girl that Loved Dogs

stephaniemoorewrites

For Rory’s birthday service project last February, we took needed items to the Humane Society.

We brought in a couple boxes.

The manager of contributions, Lisa, gave us a wagon.

We rolled in a huge stack.

Then had to go back for more. And more.

Lisa was so appreciative.

She hugged us.

Cried with us.

Celebrated our girl with us.

Right before we left she said she wanted to add Rory’s name to their memorial garden.

Lance and I came up with the wording.

Her brick was placed yesterday.

To the girl that loved dogs.

That loves dogs.

Thank you for continuing to help us remember and celebrate her!

We miss her.