What on earth do you say to a bereaved mum? It’s simple, STALL

A wonderful, thoughtfully written article.

Chasing dragonflies

It can seem like there’s plenty of advice about what not to do when it comes to grief. I’ve written a number of emotional posts about how some people get it ‘wrong’ when talking (or not!) to a beavered parent, such as this one and this one. While my rants are only one element of my complex grief emotion, I am, in the main, very accepting that people can’t be expected to ‘get it right’ all the time when dealing with such a sensitive issue (though I have heard some true howlers!).

But there are times when it’s worth knowing just what bereaved mums like me want from our friends and acquaintances particularly in the early days.

View original post 1,649 more words

The Stockings Were Hung by the Chimney with Care

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there…

 

Growing up as a preacher’s kid, Christmas was all about the birth of Christ and there was no focus on Santa whatsoever. We, as kids, knew that some kids truly believed Santa (Saint Nicholas) landed on the roof top in his sleigh and came down the chimney, delivered their presents and filled all the stockings. But, to us, Santa was a story of a man in a red suit who represented a nice concept of giving at Christmas. That was it. To our family, Christmas was all about Jesus being born in a manager.

imagesMy husband’s family, on the other hand, did the whole Santa thing. When we got married, Joe firmly told me that, when we had kids, we would NOT allow Santa to be the focus our Christmases. He said that he felt betrayed and lied to by his parents when he found out that his parents bought the gifts and that they were not delivered by Santa.  He couldn’t understand how they could lie to him like that. He felt like he was supposed to be able to trust that his parents, of all people, would be honest with him! It was a traumatic experience for him as a little kid.

It is kind of creepy, if you think about it. You’re told a man in a red suit is watching you all the time. He knows what you’re doing. Your parents lie to you and use it to control your behavior at Christmas. Just my opinion. I guess I never understood the fascination with Santa.

You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I’m telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town

He’s making a list
And checking it twice;
He’s gonna find out
Who’s naughty or nice
Santa Claus is coming to town

He sees you when you’re sleeping
He knows when you’re awake
He knows if you’ve been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake…

Christmas Carols – Santa Claus Is Coming To Town Lyrics | MetroLyrics

When Eric was a baby, though, we were given a stocking for him that had been hand-made by a family member. It was cute and thoughtfully given, so we bought stockings for rest of us to up as decorations. We decided they would be a good place to hold fun little gifts for each other, and they became a part of our holiday tradition. A few years later, my sister gave beautifully hand-made stockings for each of us and we put them up every year. Finding little “stocking stuffers” to put in each other’s stockings became part of our Christmas tradition. It was the fun way we ended our Christmas Day celebration every year by “opening” our stockings, stuffed to the top with fun little gifts, all at the same time. A Christmas tradition.

As I said in my previous post, that first Christmas after Jason died was so hard. As I sat on the family room floor, crying while surrounded by Christmas decorations, I truly didn’t know how we were going to celebrate Christmas without Jason. I couldn’t even get the decorations on the tree because I was so raw with the pain of missing Jason. I could barely function that Christmas. We had tried to instill a sense of tradition at Christmas and create memorable moments for our family. How were we going to maintain our family traditions when our family was broken and missing Jason?

One thing I remember is sitting on the family room floor that Christmas, trying to figure out if I should put up the stockings. I stared at the five nails above the fireplace. If I put all five of them up and we filled them with little gifts for each other as we usually did, I didn’t think I could handle seeing Jason’s stocking hanging there empty. If we put something in Jason’s stocking, it would be sad because he wouldn’t really be there to “open” his stocking with the rest of us. I couldn’t put up the rest of our stockings and not Jason’s. It would be obvious he was missing and would feel like a betrayal by excluding him. If I didn’t put them up at all or put them up and didn’t put anything in them, we wouldn’t be maintaining one of our traditions. Was that fair to the rest of the family? I didn’t know what to do. None of the choices seemed right, because it didn’t seem right that Jason was gone.

We tried to maintain some of our traditions that year, just because we didn’t know what else to do. Our Christmas traditions had become woven into our family way of life. We didn’t want to cheat the rest of our family out of celebrating our traditional Christmas, but every tradition we tried to maintain that first year after Jason died just emphasized his absence.  No matter what we did or didn’t do that Christmas, it was obvious Jason wasn’t there. It was so hard.

That’s the thing about traditions – they are tightly woven into and become meaningful remembrances of a holiday. The hanging of the stockings was just one of many of our Christmas traditions that carried weight of meaning to us as a family tradition. Yes, it was just a fun little part of our Christmas morning, but every single tradition we had was part of the way WE celebrated OUR Christmas as a FAMILY. Now part of our family was gone. And there were so many more traditions we had as a family besides hanging the stockings, each one spotlighting Jason’s absence. Asian food for dinner Christmas Eve. Candlelight service as a family on Christmas Eve. Cinnamon rolls Christmas morning. On and on. So many traditions.

Traditions. What do you do with your family traditions after a child dies? I think it takes many years to figure out which traditions to keep and which ones are too painful to continue. Some traditions can be bittersweet reminders of past Christmases before our child died. Some are put away for a while and may be started again at some point. Some are put away for good because they just hurt too much. New traditions are added in. For us, I think it continues to be a work in progress, this finding of traditions to add special meaning to our family Christmas. I guess I’m still not used to the idea of celebrating Christmas without Jason. I don’t think I ever will be.

© 2014 Rebecca R. Carney

Happy birthday, Mr. Jay

sc00030f1esc005ba7efsc004cc833

Jason and Becky 1999

Jason and Becky 1999

32 years ago, we welcomed Jason David Carney into our lives. We were so privileged to have Jason born into our family. We love you and miss you so much, Jason.

 

Ghosts of Holidays Past

I think of these days as “the ghosts of holidays past.” The Christmases, Thanksgivings, birthdays, vacations, events and things we used to do together as a family, various and numerous holidays. They’re the days that tug on my heart, reminding me of times gone by that will never come again. You see, no matter how long it’s been since Jason died, I will always miss those times when we were all together for a holiday or whatever. Those times can never come again, because there’s no way on earth we can all be together now that Jason is gone. Part of our family is always missing.

4th of July celebration

4th of July celebration

Jason loved the 4th of July. Barbeque. Fireworks. Friends. Just being together. We always had so much fun celebrating the birth of our country.

I’ve been sad today, and I’ve been struggling. I can’t ignore it. I can’t deny it. I might as well just acknowledge it. I’m not always sad, but today I am. I’m sad. I miss those times. I miss my boy. I wish he were here to celebrate this day with us. Jason loved to have fun. He always made everything so much fun, so much better.

I miss you, my Mr. Jay.

© 2014 Rebecca R. Carney

Beauty for Ashes

My husband and I recently returned from a trip to Washington, DC. On our way home, we drove down the Blue Ridge Parkway. It’s such an incredibly beautiful place, and I realized as we were driving along that I felt like I wanted to physically pull the beauty inside of me. I almost felt like I was a parched, desert wanderer wanting a deep, refreshing drink from the beauty around me. I wanted the beauty to soak deep into my very being, into my life, into my soul. It was like I wanted the beauty to refresh me and to bring a measure of peace and beauty into my life. I wanted to apply it to heart, to my hurt, to my life.

IMG_4410

Blue Ridge Parkway (Virginia side)

Mabry Mill - Blue Ridge Parkway

Mabry Mill – Blue Ridge Parkway

I don’t feel that way all the time, but there are times when I am very much aware of that same deep craving for beauty – as we drive onto the Biltmore Estate, as we hike up to a waterfall, as we drive through the Blue Ridge Mountains in the fall, when I see a particularly beautiful picture or piece of artwork, when I see a sunrise or sunset.

Sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean

Sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean

As we drove along home that day, I started analyzing why I feel so strongly at times that I need to pull beauty inside of me. I think I’m trying to apply some beauty to the places in my life to the places that still hurt so much, to the places that are still broken, to places that have been made ugly or feel empty by the things that have happened to me – by Jason’s death; by friends disappearing and leaving us so alone; by selling and moving from a home I loved and a state that was home to me; by having to “get rid of” so many things that were important to me until I feel like I have hardly anything left; by wandering and wandering and wandering and wandering, trying to find a place of peace and beauty that feels like home again…and never quite succeeding; by trying to come to grips with things in my life that are beyond my control and being confronted with things that I just wish I could make better.

I know it may seem strange to try to apply something so abstract as “beauty” to one’s life. I remember, not too long after Jason died, feeling that I just wish people would be kind to me so that I could apply the salve of “kindness” to my broken heart. I felt like kindness would help me heal. I suppose neither one of those is much different than trying to find “love.” They’re all rather abstract concepts. We all have needs in our lives such as these that we are trying to fill, broken or hurt places we are trying to mend. I guess trying to apply the beauty I see to the broken areas of my life is one of mine as bereaved parent. We all need beauty to balance out the harshness in our lives. We need rest to balance out the hard roads we travel. We need joy to balance out the sorrows.

I don’t feel as broken as I once did, but the analysis of why, at times, I feel I need an almost desperate need to absorb beauty into my life made me realize there are still many broken places in me. I think that’s just the way it is for a parent whose child has died. We are broken people, broken in ways most people wouldn’t understand. We are confronted with our losses in so many places and at so many times. Our brokenness just doesn’t show all the time or in ways one would expect. When it does, I guess we try to find the beauty in the ashes.

© 2014 Rebecca R. Carney

You Never Know When, How, or Whose Life You Will Touch

I received an incredibly touching comment on one of my blog pages this morning:

Dear Becky,
When I was young in the early 1970′s, my father would take me fishing and hunting with him in Wyoming. We spent lots of time around LaBarge Wyoming. On Sundays, as we drove along beautiful rivers and streams near the Salt River Range and the Wyoming Range, my dad always found ‘The Singing Knudsens’ on the radio. I believe it was KMER, the radio station out of Kemmerer. We thought you guys were great. I remember thinking how brave you must have been to sing on the radio. I think about those times a lot because I was very close to my father. Those were such incredible times. I was just thinking about LaBarge, my dad, and listening to the Singing Knudsons. I searched the internet and found you here. I have three sons of my own now. I was truly heartbroken when I read your story. I can not imagine losing one of my boys. I wonder if I could even survive it. You and your family will always be very special to me. I wish happiness and love to you and your family always. Thank you for bringing much to mine.

Sincerely,
Peter

It was such an encouragement to me right now, and was something I really needed to hear. I have been struggling lately with not being stressed and discouraged with some things going on in our lives.

This was so timely and such a huge reminder that we can’t really see the big picture at any given point in our lives. Sometimes it seems as though our lives don’t make a difference no matter how hard we try. Something I was just a small part of so long ago made a difference in someone’s life. My family is a part of some wonderful memories of special times Peter spent with his dad. That’s just amazing and so very humbling to me. Thank you, Peter, for such a huge encouragement and the reminder to keep on trying when it seems like what you’re doing isn’t making any difference. You just never know when, how, or whose life you may be touching.

Becky

© 2014 Rebecca R. Carney

 

Oh, my boy, I miss you so….I’d walk 1000 miles if I could just see you again

Jason turns 18

JASON DAVID CARNEY – 7/29/82 – 3/3/02

I truly would walk a thousand miles if I could just see you again…

A THOUSAND MILES

Making my way downtown, walking fast
Faces pass and I’m home bound
Staring blankly ahead, just making my way
Making my way down through the crowd…

And I need you
And I miss you
And now I wonder

If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass me by
‘Cause you know I’d walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you
Tonight

It’s always times like these when I think of you
And I wonder if you ever think of me…
‘Cause Everything’s so wrong and I don’t belong
Living in your precious memories…

‘Cause I need you
And I miss you
And now I wonder

If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass me by oh
‘Cause you know I’d walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you…
Tonight

And I… , I…
Don’t want to let you know
I… , I…
Drown in your memory
I… , I…
Don’t want to let this go
I, I don’t…

Making my way downtown, walking fast
Faces passed and I’m home bound
Staring blankly ahead, just making my way
Making my way down through the crowd…

And I still need you
And I still miss you
And now I wonder

If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass us by
‘Cause you know I’d walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you

If I could fall into the sky
Do you think time would pass me by
‘Cause you know I’d walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you
If I could just hold you
Tonight

Writer(s): Vanessa Carlton
Copyright: Songs Of Universal Inc., Rosasharn Music