A Child's Time to Grieve

As an adult, in a dangerous situation, we put the oxygen mask on ourself first, and then we give it to our child. Well, widowhood was like a disaster that hit my life. In the first year of grief, I needed everyone else's help before I could help my children. My daughters, 6 and 7 at the time, not only didn't have a father that first year, but their mother was absent as well.

I felt depleted. I was emotionally unavailable to them and wrapped up in my own grief. The little sense I did have, I made sure they met with their school counselor. I had no idea how they were processing their grief and if they were even doing ok.

We also had some family conferences with the guidance counselor. My daughters were able to talk about their feelings. The counselor reassured me that they had a healthy understanding of what happened. This relieved me since I had been consumed with my own thoughts. Even though we lived under the same roof I had no idea how my children were coping.

I kept going that first year mainly on faith. I didn't feel death was final when I had hope in eternal life. I know my girls heard me say that alot. I also think God was carrying them that first year. I imagined they were cradled in His arms as a protecting Father until I was well enough to meet their physical and emotional needs. I think the spiritual needs were covered.

Once the first year of widowhood was behind me, I felt stronger. I thought more about my children's needs. My oldest daughter attended a weekend hospice camp, for children who had lost a loved one. The day I picked her up they had closing ceremonies. Each child shared an experience from the weekend. I didn't know whether to feel happy or sad for them. It was tragic these children suffered a loss but fortunate that they found joy again.

The following year, both my girls attended the hospice camp and also went to a children's eight week hospice grief support group. A counselor told me it can take children up to four and a half years to work through grief. So after the first year of it being ALL ABOUT ME, for several years after it was then ALL ABOUT THEM. There were times I was ready to move on, to new goals and relationships, but I backed up and sacrificed moving forward until my children caught up.

Moments of Comfort in Grief

There were dreams, and then there were dreams that brought me comfort. Dreams where I'd see my former husband, Nelson, and know without a doubt that he was close by. I dreamt one night that I could see what he was doing in heaven, and that he was happy, healthy, and youthful. Other times, I'd cry to God for a sign. God never let me down. Nelson would come to me in a dream and wrap his arms around me. I'd know it was him by his embrace.

These moments of comfort kept my hope for eternal life alive. As the one year anniversary of Nelson's death approached, there seemed to be more moments of final comfort along with higher anxiety levels. These moments of comfort and anxiety were magnified in my life.

About 2 months before this monumental event of completing my first year of widowhood, my youngest daughter, Nicole, would be celebrating her seventh birthday. It would be the first birthday party I'd have to throw for one of my daughters by myself. Nelson always loved throwing the girls' birthday parties but now it was all up to me.  I didn't like it one bit. But it was time to suck it up and make it a memorable day for my seven year old.

We celebrated Nicole's birthday at the bowling alley, the day before her birthday. All of Nicole's friends showed up along with many of mine and Nelson's. The presence and support of my husband's friends emphasized Nelson's absence but also brought me peace to know how much we were loved. 

The comfort came the following morning. Nicole woke up on her birthday in a daze. "Mom!" Nicole's eyes opened wide. "I had a dream of Daddy! I was surfing at the beach. A huge wave came crashing over me and then Daddy came. He wrapped his arms around me and saved me! I felt him holding me, Mommy, he really hugged me. I could feel it!" Joy burst into my heart. Nicole felt a moment of comfort, too. And what better day but her birthday!

I believed that her father could have come to her and held her even if no one else believed it was real. The dream comforted us and helped us to go on. My children had their own grief journeys they were on and deserved to have their moments of comfort, too! Do you believe that dreams in grief are real, too?

No Fear After Death

When death took my loved one, my whole life was turned upside down. In the first 6 months of widowhood, I could have cared less if I died, so I could be with my loved one. I lived with little fear. I wasn't fearful of flying in planes or the approaching hurricane I lived through while visiting Puerto Rico. I had a calm inside me that gave me freedom. I was free to experience life without being afraid of anything.

Then little by little as the years went by, fear slipped into my life again. I believe this was healthy. It meant that I was living life again after accepting my loss and I didn't want to die anymore. I was hanging on to life and feared what could possibly happen. But I really don't like to live in fear and I try to fight any fears I do have.

So when my daughter gave me a Christmas gift to go skydiving with her, how could I resist! I'm not a big fan of flying in airplanes, but I love amusement park rides and the thrill of riding on motorcycles. I fought the fears inside and took a leap of faith (out the airplane door). It was an experience I'll never forget!

Yes, it was crazy! AND INSANE! But a lot of fun and I'm happy to still be alive. We might as well live life now with as little fear as possible and enjoy it. Because eternal life might be here before we know it!

No Pain...No Gain in Grief

Key To My Broken Heart

I understand how a spouse could die from a broken heart. I had to gasp for air. It felt like I was suffocating. There's nowhere to escape. Nelson was gone- five months. It felt like yesterday! The intensity of continuous pain felt like it was swallowing me up in misery. Though I felt devastated with human despair, my faith in Christ promised us hope after death. I believed Nelson had eternal life but now I needed to find hope for myself to go on without him.

There were times that my anxiety rose to levels that I had never coped with before. "How will this pain ever go away?" I grieved the hardest when I went to bed. The intensity of pain came like thrusts of a knife piercing my heart over and over. I'd fervently cry into my pillow. Never in my life had I ever experienced distress so violently. The pain had to run its course.

On the evening, of the 5 month anniversary of Nelson's death, I was visiting his family in Puerto Rico. As dusk fell, I excused myself for an evening walk. I wanted to be alone. I didn't want to force a smile or make small talk. I was hurting. What would make it stop? I wanted to feel comfort. I wanted to be near Nelson. I walked to the cemetery where Nelson was buried. The skies had turned dark but the streetlights shone on Nelson's gravesite.

It was so quiet and peaceful. I laid on my back, on top of the above ground mausoleum and gazed at the stars as tears slithered down my temples. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. "It hurts God, so much! Help me! I don't know what to do!" I let out a few soft sobs then curled up in a fetal position. After a few moments the pain subsided as if a blanket of peace embraced me.

This became a defining moment in my grief. I knew the pain would keep coming back for a period of time. Each time my tears overflowed, God's comfort continued to take away the throbbing pain. I handed my broken heart over to God to be healed. I could then live through the pain and move on through grief.

If we keep covering up the pain and not facing it, we'll never move on and find joy again. After months of running and trying to do grief my way, I finally broke and surrendered to God. My way wasn't working so well. It was time to move on and face the giant. MY BROKEN HEART!