Living with regrets

When they are born, children don’t come with manuals. As parents, we are left to do the best we can with the resources we have. Some of us have better resources than other; some of us have to do the best we can with what we have and the what we learned from our parents.

My family means the world to me, and I tried to do the best job I could to be the best parent I could be. I would do anything for each of them. My heart is so full of love for them that, at times, I feel like I can’t contain it. But, I know that, in some ways, I failed miserably as a parent. And no matter how much I love them, it doesn’t change the fact that I have regrets and wish I had done some things differently.

Some things that I thought were so important when my kids were small have proven over time not to be that important. I wish I could go back and do some things again, knowing what I know now. More patience, more fun. But, we never get that chance. Never. Ever. One shot. That’s it. I can never make the wrongs right. And, when a child dies, the opportunities to do better or to make new memories are gone. When I remember those days when I didn’t do such a good job, the regrets weigh heavy.

I hope my kids remember the good things more than the bad. How I got up every year at 3 a.m. to make cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning. The looking for weeks for the perfect things to put in their Easter baskets, and then getting up at 7 a.m. to put them together so they would be waiting when they got up first thing on Easter morning. The way I tried to keep our refrigerator and pantry stocked with things they and their friends liked so they would always have their favorites to eat. Keeping lots of things in the house for crafts so they and their friends would always have something to do. Glue, glitter, fabric paint, paper, pens, stickers. Baking, picking strawberries. 4th of July celebrations. Making Halloween costumes. Christmas morning traditions. Birthday parties. Ice skating lessons, roller blading. Sewing a birthday gift outfit from scratch for one of Jenna’s friends from a sketch she drew when she was 5. On and on. So much of what I did, I did with them in mind. I hope they know that.

I did try. I hope they remember that and forgive the rest. I am not perfect – far from it. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I wish I could. And, so, I have to live with regret. None of us are perfect. I know that. I guess that’s where extending grace and forgiveness to ourselves and to each other has to be.

© 2017 Rebecca R. Carney

 

Advertisements

Of things that can never be again

sc0063be31

4th of July celebration long ago

Oh, how you made each and every celebration so much brighter, my precious boy. How I wish we could go back once again to those days. My world is not the same without you. I miss you. I love you.

© 2017 Rebecca R. Carney

The NOT-Newly Bereaved

I have been trying since the fifteenth anniversary of Jason’s death to figure out how to put into words what it’s like to be this far along on this endless journey of grief…and yet still hurt so much. How one song can take me back to a time before Jason died. How one sight or sound can transport me to a time before Jason died…or to the night he died. We become experts at wearing masks, so we aren’t judged for not getting over the death of our child or not “moving on” by now. The author of this blog has put into words what I have been trying to figure out how to say.

~Becky

Bereaved Parents

Earlier this evening, a gal asked some questions for a group discussion she will be taking part of this week. It stopped me in my tracks momentarily because, quite honestly, I’ve never been asked such questions. Those of us that have traveled this journey for some years are ‘expected’ to have ‘gotten over it’ by now. In the world of psychology, if your grief has continued on past one or two years, they consider it ‘compounded’ or ‘dysfunctional’ grief. They speak of things in which they have no true knowledge.

Nope. It’s plain and simple grief…and all grief is complicated.

We do move forward on this journey and it does change over time, as most things do. However, IT STILL HURTS! No one outside of grief groups asks me about my son. Or, if it’s the first time they learn that I have a son that died, they ask how…

View original post 1,029 more words

Poignant Days

There are days when I feel your absence so acutely,

Days that remind me of what was,

Days that remind me of what could have been,

Days that remind me of what I wish with all my heart had been.

This is one of these days, and I miss you so much.

I love you, Jason.

 

© 2017 Rebecca R. Carney

Acknowledgement

Bereaved Parents

Grief does not demand pity; it requests acknowledgement.

Grief is not simply a feeling, it is a deep indescribable anguish of the soul that permeates our entire being. It exists whenever there is trauma and loss. I do not say this to diminish anyone’s grief in the loss of a beloved pet, a mate, etc.; however, there is no grief that compares with the loss of a child. You do not get over it, you do not move on from it. You only move forward with it. The excruciating pain becomes a lifelong companion.

Bereaved parents are not wallowing in self-pity. A part of their soul has been violently torn from them. Yes, they go on and find a manner of functioning that may appear to the outsider as if they have ‘gotten over it’; but let me be frank: NO! They have not! Appearances can be deceiving. Any unexpected…

View original post 674 more words

International Bereaved Mother’s Day

From https://thelifeididntchoose.com:

18268565_697026167165887_4661629661358390851_nInternational Bereaved Mother’s Day is observed the Sunday before Mother’s Day in the United States. May 7, 2017.

I didn’t even know such a day existed until I was a mom that needed it.

For those of us who have children in heaven, setting aside a day to acknowledge that unique mother/child relationship is helpful.

Traditional Mother’s Day is meant to be a time of celebration. A day when children send cards or flowers or give gifts to honor their mom and let her know that years spent pouring into their lives are appreciated.

Lots of church pews and restaurant tables are filled with family as children come home to be with mom.

But our child can’t come home.

That makes Mother’s Day complicated for me.

It means that while I am thrilled to spend it with the children who can make it home, there is always a tinge of sadness to the celebration. And I hate that. Because they deserve a whole-hearted mother.

So I’m thankful this other day exists. Thankful for a day when I can think about and speak about and embrace the child that won’t be with me next weekend.

Because our child is STILL our children. They’re still very much a part of our hearts. And I need to be able to speak that aloud for others to hear.

Some mamas will be drawing or painting hearts on their hands and writing their missing child’s name inside as a beautiful outward testimony to an inward reality. Every day we carry our missing child in our hearts.

international bereaved mothers heart brave and courageous

So if you know a bereaved mother, give her a hug today.

Make time and give space for her to share.

And then listen, love and lift her up.

 

https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2017/05/06/international-bereaved-mothers-day/

Edit:

PLEASE NOTE: I have changed the above citation to give credit to the original author of this post. When I first wrote this post, I had originally given credit to the Facebook https://www.facebook.com/GrievingMothers.org/, which is where I first read it. The Facebook page did not cite the original author, which was not the right thing to do. Melanie at https://thelifeididntchoose.com contacted me when she saw my post to let me know this had been plagiarized from her original post. She is the original author. I always try to give credit to the author of a writing or photograph, because I understand how hard it is and how personal it is to write about the death of a child. My apologies to Melanie and to those who read this blog.

~Becky

© 2017 Rebecca R. Carney