What is Normal after your child dies?

~ by Tara & Heath Carey in Massachusetts after they tragicall lost two little girls, Violet and Iris, in 2002, when natural gas caused their apartment to explode..

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.

Normal is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, Christmas, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 4th, Passover or Easter, anniversaries or just because...

Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything anymore.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's &; why didn't I's go through your head constantly.

Normal is reliving the accident continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.

Normal is having the TV on the minute you walk into the house to have noise, because the silence is deafening.

Normal is staring at every child who looks like your child and then thinking of the age they would be now. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.

Normal is every happy event in your life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in your heart.

Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of your "normal."

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your childs's memory and their birthdays and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special your child loved. Thinking how they would love it, but how they are not here to enjoy it.

Normal is having some people afraid to mention your childs name and Normal is making sure that others remember them.

Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we as parents continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, there are days when the grieving gets worse, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. Nothing compares. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare.

Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.

Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because you know your mental health depends on it.

Normal is realizing you do cry everyday.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone but someone stricken with grief over the loss of their child.

Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.

Normal is not listening to people make excuses for G-d. "G-d may have done this because…"

I know my children are in "heaven," but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why my beautiful children were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.

Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did the laundry or if there is any food.

Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have two children or no children, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that your children are dead. And yet when you say you have no children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your child or children who have died.

Normal is asking G-d why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a G-d.

Normal is knowing you will never get over this loss, not in a day nor a million years.

Normal is having therapists agree with you that you will never "really" get over the pain and that there is nothing they can do to help you because they know only bringing back your child back from the dead could possibly make it "better."

Normal is learning to lie to everyone you meet and telling them you are fine. You lie because it makes others uncomfortable if you cry. You've learned it's easier to lie to them then to tell them the truth that you still feel empty and it's probably never going to get any better -- ever. And last of all...

Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal."

WHEN A CHILD DIES - SURVIVING THE DEATH OF DREAMS Part 2 of 2

~ by Carol Staudacher ~ Continued from Part 1 on Monday, April 25th, 2011....

There will be times when you feel especially fragmented, as if the challenge of getting through the day is beyond your capabilities or beyond your desire. When you feel this way, let your heart dictate your direction. Rest and reflect and allow your feelings to come forth without censoring or resisting them. Don't hold back tears. It's not just a myth that crying makes you feel better--it actually does.

During these times of release and reflection, you might begin a project you can work on quietly, slowly, and lovingly--a scrapbook of photos, a letter or poem to your daughter, a piece of prose that describes your son--emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually. Describe everything he/she meant to others, everything he achieved in his life. You may tape-record your own memories or experiences. Some parents have pieced together clips from their videos and those of friends or relatives to make a composite of their child's life.
More than anything, follow your own lead, do what allows you some relief. If you need to tell your story over and over, seek out those who will listen. If you need to reflect upon your child's life, privately and for great lengths of time, then indulge yourself in solitude.

When you begin to regain some degree of peace and strength, consider contributing some part of yourself--your knowledge, affection, or skills--to a child or an adult in need, someone who could experience self worth as a result of your attention, guidance, and kindness.

Regardless of the brevity of your child's life, you can build a legacy out of the love you hold by allowing it to spill over into the lives of those you don't even know yet. As one mother put it, "You can gather the love you have and use it to lighten the darkened spirit of a neglected child who has never been the source of anyone's pride."

Whether or not you choose to put your grief into action in this way will be just one of the choices you consider as you work to reshape your future. Regardless of the direction you choose, you'll continue to tap those same powerful resources that helped you to this point. "Surviving his death has brought me this far," a young father said, "now I owe it to my son to go forward with as much perseverance and vision as possible." Trust yourself to do the same, to follow the path that honors your heart

Carol Staudacher is an author and grief educator – Carol does a regular column for Beliefnet.net focuses on the adult grieving process and her books include "Men and Grief" and "Beyond Grief: A Guide for Recovering From the Death of a Loved One".

WHEN A CHILD DIES - SURVIVING THE DEATH OF DREAMS Part 1 of 2

~ by Carol Staudacher

"It's not supposed to be this way," the mother of a dying teenager cried. "I wasn't meant to live longer than my daughter. But now I have to."

How do you survive the death of your child? As a parent, you're supposed to be the provider, the nurturer, the protector, the mentor, the guide. You invest love and hope and certain beliefs in your son or daughter. But most of all, you do not outlive your child.

When tragedy strikes and you do bury a child, you're faced with reconstructing a life that has been suddenly robbed of its parental responsibilities and joys. The source of a certain kind of reciprocal love in your life is now absent. Your child may have loved openly or buoyantly, or been reserved and quietly affectionate. He or she may have been a typical teenager--aloof, moody, even a bit defiant, loving reluctantly. Your adult child may have doubled in the role of your sister, brother, friend, or caregiver. In any case, the place you reserved in the center of your heart and soul for your unique son or daughter is now aching.

Parents who lose a child to miscarriage or infant death experience a different, wrenching loss--often made more painful by people's awkward efforts to suggest that the brevity of a child's life should limit the extent of grief. But parental bonds begin with the dreams and hopes we carry for our unborn children. You probably enjoyed months of anticipation. You may have set up a nursery, had showers, enjoyed the eagerness of potential grandparents. For you and all who shared your joy, the loss and grief are very real.

Regardless of the age of the child, when you lose a son or daughter, part of your self is gone. In the case of mothers, part of your physical self is gone--the body that grew and quickened within you. For both fathers and mothers, your sense of family has undergone severe change. There are hopes to abandon, expectations to dismiss, and a whole array of profound emotional responses that both confuse and weaken the strongest and most determined of adult survivors.

Often parents have severe feelings of anger directed at others they see as having some direct responsibility for their son or daughter's death. These may include members of the medical community, relatives, the child's friends, even organizations or institutions.

It's crucial to talk about your strongest emotions with someone you trust. Avoid friends and relatives who do not have the capacity to acknowledge your feelings of despair, sadness, longing, regret--or even guilt. You do not have any obligation to listen to someone tell you that you are lucky because you have other children, or that you can get pregnant again, or that there must be some way your child's accident was "part of God's plan," or that your child's illness could have been cured or averted. You have lost your child, and you need to talk to others who have done the same, those whose pain parallels yours, whose understanding will be deep and supportive.

You can find groups for grieving parents by contacting the pastoral care office of the largest hospital near you or by inquiring at the closest hospice. They should be able to direct you to local, specialized support, such as a group for women surviving neonatal death, or for parents surviving the loss of a child to AIDS.

Part 2 (of 2) of this article will continue on Wednesday, April 27th...

A DIFFERENT EASTER

Yes it's Easter Weekend and another holiday that will be celebrated without our beloved children.

Despite the ache in your heart, I hope you can and will reflect and find peace and wonderful memories that warm your heart and make you smile.. I also wish for you and your family a peace filled, blessed Easter holiday.

Remember - you aren't "letting go" but simply healing and moving forward...

I thought this story might touch you as it did me, written by a sister in grief from Tampa, FL.. Cherie Houston

A DIFFERENT EASTER,

~ by Chris Gilbert, TCF, Tampa, Florida

Easter bunnies, brand new clothes, egg hunts, candy and baskets, the start of Spring. How exciting is this time of year? A new beginning, everything so fresh, so invigorating! But, unfortunately only painful and sorrowful memories are here for those of us who are bereaved parents and grandparents.

Gone is the laughter, the excitement in a special child’s eyes, the feeling of a whole new aspect in life. Spring is here and the world appears ready to bloom again with new life, new hope, and new wonders.

How can we view life in this way when part of ourselves is now gone, forever lost to us? How can our lives continue to go on when one of us is missing, no longer able to share this “newness” of life? It seems so unfair! And yet, out of our “darkness” comes the first signs of hope – a “bud” of survival, a moment of laughter, a memory of a happier time.
The Easter season usually represents rebirth; let this season be the “birth” of your finding your way back to life again, of finding the ability to heal, and of being able to resolve your grief so that hope and comfort are once again in your life.

Let this time of the year show you, that you CAN, make it through this deepest, most difficult, and sorrowful time of your lives.

SPRING HAS COME !!

~ Betty R. Ewart, BP/USA National Newsletter

“Spring has come, The grass has riz, I wonder where the flowers is?”

For some reason that poem, bad grammar and all is going through my head over and over this year.Our Ruthie died on Easter and spring came and I guess the grass and the flowers “riz” that year; but I don’t remember it!

This year we have had so much bad weather and cold that it seems that spring will never come.Somehow we expect that, when the weather gets sunny and warm again, and the growth comes back, we will be all well again. Somehow, the fact that what died in the fall and winter and is now showing new life and coming back is not the answer.

Then we think, let’s have our children come back now and we can get back to “normal.”

It’s hard to look at spring those first years after the death of our child and not have these thoughts.However, if we have a belief and faith in the resurrection, we may one day come to realize that all life is a cycle and there is and will be a resurgence of life at times when it may seem the dreariest.

So, when the grass and flowers begin to come back and when those of us who like to garden begin to plant and clear the garden, we can begin to have hope that we will see our children again some day.

Another lesson spring brings to us is that those flowers, when they come back, are not the same flowers. They have a new life and a new look. We also know that this is true of us. We are not the same people we were before our child died. We “come back” into life a changed person – hopefully a person changed for the better.

So, the grass, flowers and butterflies will soon be back and maybe we can begin to clear the cobwebs and concerns in our lives and become a new spring creation too. It won’t happen overnight and maybe not this year, but it will happen!

RENEWAL

~Priscilla Kenney, Boston MA, TCF

RENEWAL

In the first warm days of springtime

when the winter chill is through,

each waking thought and closing prayer

begins and ends with you.

Like the daffodil and crocus

that survive the bitter snow,

my soul is gently lifted up

and is warmed by sunlight’s glow.

It’s a time of fresh renewal,

a beginning – not an end,

and oh, how much I miss you,

my daughter and my friend.

So I’ll take the warmth of springtime

and hold it close to me,

to help me through the winter storms

till your face once more I see.

You don't stop being parents when your child dies

~ I want to thank Susan Eliston-Throm from Apache Junction (who lost her 17 year old grandson in an auto-accident in 2008) for sending me the following article. Susan said she reads this almost daily to remind herself how important it is to continue "moving forward" for the sake of all those around her - She can't remember where she got it from, but she told me it was written by Michelle P in June 2010… So I trust Michelle won't mind us sharing it with you...

Michelle P. wrote: Denise Schipani once expressed how parents go on after the death of a child perfectly: “You go on, but you take a wildly different path.” If we are the sum total of our experiences – and losing a child is surely one of the most traumatic experiences I’ve ever witnessed – then what actually happens to parents in these circumstances is not only unknowable, it’s unimaginable.

Michelle P. also wrote: I watched my parents deal with the accidental death of my younger brother (he drowned at the age of 19), through the months when they were literally sick with grief, and the eight years since. They (as am I) are forever changed by his death but not necessarily in a negative or even regrettable way. And that’s because (and I’m not sure how to say this right) it’s not only in death that we were changed: that change actually began with his life – the fact that he died is only one aspect of who he was, just as the fact that my mother is not just a person who lost a son, she is a person who HAD a son for 19 years. And after working (and it really WAS work) through their grief, my parents choose to go on living full and even healthier lives partly as a celebration of his life. They see it as his inheritance, as something he’s given back to them, a way to make sense of his death – it gives even more meaning to their lives, to their identities as parents (because you don’t stop being a parent when your child dies).

I am incredibly proud of my parents for this: it is not only one of the bravest decisions they have ever taken, but it means that I have not lost them along with the future I would have had with my brother ~ by Michelle P.

APRIL SHOWERS

~Written by Beverly Mangum, TCF, Tri-County WV

And the rains came…they ceased, and they came again. The little memory I have of the time just after our son was killed is mostly that I thought I would never stop crying. There was no control and that would frustrate me, and I’d cry that much harder. My eyes were so swollen I had to ice them to see, and the crying, coupled with the inability to eat, dehydrated my body.

I could tell my crying only upset those around me, so I learned to cry when I was alone. Then I was able to take deep breaths and control some of the tears only to get a headache with my heartache. Gradually the crying eased up. It’s been a few months since I’ve had a really hard sit-down-and-sob crying spell. We try so hard to be strong and pent the emotions up, and then ‘wham-o’, the big one strikes. It is exhausting, but I think the release can be good.

At last month’s meeting we had a new Mother – the word “fresh” kept coming up as we each tried to console her. It was “fresh” for her – her son was killed the month prior. Her presence and emotions brought back for each of us those first months. The anger, the denial, the unanswered questions, the tears – none of us would want to relive those days again, but we all did with her at that meeting. No one can tell you that you’ll be just wonderful again, but you will slowly get better. The fact that this “fresh” Mother and the others who continue to come to the meetings was a sign of strength.

It takes a strong brave soul to admit that she could use some HELP. The person that reaches out for comfort is the one that will mend. We are not crazy, we have not done anything wrong, and we are not being punished. The death of a child – no matter what age, no matter what cause – is the hardest thing to happen to a parent, and to seek compassion and support is the healthiest thing we can do for ourselves. We have been there, we know what you feel, and we understand, and we do care – that’s why we’re called The Compassionate Friends!

One of the subjects we discussed was the things that pop up out of the blue that bring on an emotional reaction. A son, a daughter, a situation, a similar looking person or expression, a TV show, a word – it’s like a bomb dropped on your head! It hits hard – when you least expect it – and it hurts. Even when the death of a parent, relative, friend or someone we don’t even know occurs – it all comes back again. As one Mother so well said – you take each moment as you go along and to the best that you can.

There are days I feel I’ve gained or done nothing, and there are days I actually make some headway. I may not always do as much as I did before, but when I have a good day, I try to make the most of it. I don’t know how much earthly time I have left, but I’m not going to let it go to waste. It’s not how much time we have left, but the quality of the time given to us. No one will make it for us – we must do that on our own.

On A Child's Death - Poem

~ by Virginia Ellis

On A Child's Death

All heaven was in mourning,
The day that young man died;
When He closed His eyes, they said,
Ten thousand angels cried.

The angels shed their many tears,
Because He was God's Son;
But there is a special sadness,
When God takes the very young.

At times like that, I question God,
Why let a child die?
I cannot understand it,
And I need to ask Him why.

I, too, have heard the angels cry,
I've heard them cry first hand;
For I, too, gave up a child,
And I've tried hard to understand.

Yes, I received God's comfort,
Though I'm grateful, I want more;
I want reasons; I want meaning,
I am a parent who's heart-sore.

God can give, and God can take,
I am well aware of this;
But, why my baby ... why my child?
Why did God put him on His list?

Did I love my child too much?
Was he too good for this old earth?
Had his purpose here been filled?
Was that why he was taken first?

I awake each day with questions,
I fall asleep at night, the same;
So many times I ask God why,
I'm both saddened and ashamed.

But then, in reflective moments,
When my prayers are most intense,
One word keeps going through my mind,
Patience ... patience ... patience.

Maybe now is not the time,
To explain this great heartache;
Even if I knew God's reasons,
What difference would it make?

Can't I just be grateful,
For any time we had?
Accept God's action without question?
Why is that so very bad?

What's my hurry ... why my pressure?
Is my faith not strong enough?
God will explain it when He's ready,
Surely I can trust that much.

God understands my broken heart,
He, too, gave up a Son;
He knows the pain of one lost child,
He weeps with me, and we are one.

Just as I talk to God each day,
I talk to my precious child;
I blow him kisses, and I say,
"See you, honey, in a while."

I’m tired of grieving and feeling this pain!

~ by Cherie Houston

I’ve kept diaries/daily journals since I was in high school… Recently I was looking through some old journals and came upon an entry I'd made January 3rd, 1973, 5 months and 3 days after the death of my daughter "Robin Marie" who was my second daughter to die. Robin died of SIDS when she was almost 8 months old. The entry on that day reads: “I just can’t take this pain anymore; I am so tired of grieving and hurting so badly, if I don’t stop I am going to drown and I want to become a mom again for Ricky (who was my first born and only 21 mos. old the day of that entry) and be happy again”

I certainly don’t remember that day, but I do remember feeling that sense of dread and drowning at different times after the deaths of all three of my children - Randee Marie who was hours old when she died March 17, 1971; Robin and then my son Bobby, who died just 18 months ago when he took his own life on September 19th, 2009..

When I read the entries now in my journals, especially this one after Robin, I see that my entries and my life always began to change once I admitted to myself that I didn’t want to continue to feel the horrific pain I was feeling… The change is especially obvious after that entry following Robin’s death - soon after I became pregnant with my son Bobby, my little boy Ric began sleeping through the night and he seemed so much happier and was really thriving… Whether I realized it at the time or not, I’d obviously made a conscious or subconscious decision to “let go & move forward”

We can’t just wish this pain away - we can't avoid the journey of mourning. Grieving is necessary to heal our minds and our spirits. No matter what you’ve read or heard, grief involves the whole person—our bodies, our minds, our emotions and our souls… Unfortuantely, there aren’t any rules, so that if and when we follow certain steps, one after another, we will ease our grief and complete our journey more quickly! We can’t simply deal with one emotion or feeling and then move on to the next step. We can’t deal with the anger and denial for a certain period of time and then again, move on to the next “step” on the list… No we don’t resign ourselves to their being gone and all the sorrow that comes with that realization that they are gone and never coming back - we don't face that and then just move on to the next “step” No that isn’t what happens..

Instead, all of these emotions are like the tide – they will flow back and forth between each and all of these emotions (and so many more that I haven’t even mentioned) and they will continue back and forth for quite some time. Then many months or years later we may come to the end of our grief journey.

The intensity and duration of our grief journey will always vary and it will always vary depending on who has died – a parent, sibling, spouse, friend, or worst yet - one of our children. For those of us who lose a child, I’m not sure that journey ever ends-I think it just becomes different…

No, we will never forget and understand that no child can or will ever be replaced. But what I have learned since the deaths of my children, is that in order to let go of the pain and move forward, I had to find a special place in my heart and my mind for my children who had gone before me.. And that special place in my heart and mind becomes protected by new memories and joys, that allow me to then visit that place without the overwhelming pain that controlled me in the beginning of each of those journeys...

I hope you can find ways to allow yourself to move forward and to create new memories and joys that will also protect the memories of your child who has gone before you..

Infant death ~ Continued ~ Part 2 of 2

~ By Mayo Clinic staff, Shawna Ehlers, Ph.D.

This is continued from our Blog Posting on April 2, 2011: Again, Shawna Ehlers, Ph.D., a psychologist at Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minn., and an assistant professor of psychology at the College of Medicine, Mayo Clinic, continues to answer challenging questions about coping with infant death.

When my baby died, so did my hopes and dreams for the future. How can I go on?

Grief can cloud much of the remaining good in life, especially in the period right after an infant death. You may find it difficult to invest renewed hope and excitement in any part of your life — but learning to continue living is part of the grieving process. For help making the adjustment, seek support from other parents who've been able to find solace in living. When you're ready, participating in family activities and special occasions can remind you that you're loved and supported.

My partner and I don't seem to be grieving in the same way. How can we find strength in each other? Grieving can take a heavy toll on marriages and other intimate relationships. Accepting your partner's response to grief can be one of the most challenging aspects of grieving as a couple. It can be tough to accept your partner's coping mechanisms if they don't fit your concept of grieving. For example, perhaps you feel closer to your baby by talking about him or her every day — but your partner copes by looking toward the future. If you don't recognize these differences, you may wonder whether your partner supports you or even cares about your baby's death. But the differences don't need to pull you apart. To strengthen your relationship, work toward compromises. You might agree to limited discussion times, encouraging the more talkative partner to supplement the need for conversation with understanding friends or support groups. To respect the other partner's need to look ahead, schedule a social event once a week during which you agree to focus on the pleasurable aspects of your life together.

How does the grief of infant death ever reach resolution? As time goes on, your grief will begin to fade. Eventually you'll find it easier to engage in other aspects of life. The first anniversary of the baby's death and other poignant reminders will be difficult, but they'll get easier with time. Sadness surrounding your baby's death may never go away, but with time it may more closely resemble remembrance than heart-wrenching grief.

Infant death: Grief and the path to remembrance – Part 1 of 2

Grief can cloud much of the remaining good in life, especially in the period right after an infant death. Here are some suggestions that might help as you move forward on this journey after the death of your infant.

~ By Mayo Clinic staff, Shawna Ehlers, Ph.D.

Infant death is one of the most devastating experiences any parent could face. Nothing can take away the pain or fill the baby's place in your heart — but it may help to acknowledge your grief and share feelings with others who've had similar losses.

Here, Shawna Ehlers, Ph.D., a psychologist at Mayo Clinic, Rochester, Minn., and an assistant professor of psychology at the College of Medicine, Mayo Clinic, answers challenging questions about coping with infant death.

No one wants to talk about my baby's death. How can I feel secure acknowledging my loss? It's important to find social support for your grief. Acknowledging your baby's death — as well as your lost hopes and dreams for the baby's future — is an important part of the grieving process. It's often comforting and therapeutic to connect with other parents who've experienced infant death. This can be done through face-to-face support groups or Web sites devoted to grieving the loss of a baby. Consider professional counseling at any point, especially if you don't feel supported in your grief or you don't notice any improvement within the first six to 12 months.

How can I help my friends and loved ones understand what I'm feeling? Grieving is physically and emotionally exhausting. But friends and loved ones may not understand the intensity of your grief or your need for unconditional support. Focus on spending time with friends or loved ones who offer the type of understanding and encouragement you need. To help others understand what you're experiencing, you may want to share material on infant death from your doctor, support group or helpful Web sites. Avoid being drawn into arguments, however. If you're facing someone who doesn't support your grief, explain that the situation is just too difficult to discuss with him or her. If you ended a much-wanted pregnancy, carried a pregnancy to term knowing the baby wouldn't survive or discontinued life support for your critically ill baby, you may carry an even heavier emotional burden. If others pass judgment on your decision, you may feel isolated and even more desolate. Support from an understanding grief group or professional counselor can be invaluable.

I feel like I'm on an emotional roller coaster. Is this normal? An infant death is traumatic. You may be plagued with anger or guilt — or perhaps you're tormented by questions that simply can't be answered. All of these emotions are normal. How you handle your emotions is up to you. Remember, everyone copes with grief in different ways. Some parents find solace is creating a memorial for the baby. You may hold a funeral or memorial service, assemble treasured photos, or store a baby blanket or favorite toy. As you come to terms with your feelings, maintain your physical health. Eat healthy foods, include physical activity in your daily routine, and spend time with supportive friends and loved ones.

Part 2 will be continued in our next blog on April 5th, 2011....

Another Holiday is Looming: Easter

~ by Cherie Houston

Well, it's April 1st and another holiday is looming before us - Easter.. And when you child or children have died, thoughts of past Celebrations, including Easter and all the new outfits, chocolate bunnies, jelly beans, Easter baskets, Easter egg hunts and of course family gatherings can be very difficult.

And as we well know, it is commonly very difficult for those who have not been touched by the death of a child to understand the depth of despair that such a loss brings to our families. Yes, many can’t and don’t understand that the stress of holidays and special “dates” for those of us who are “mourning” including the moms, dads, siblings and grandparents, well that “mourning” and remembrance can feel overwhelming whether the loss was months or years ago."

But as we ponder the holiday ahead - some of us will remember our child during past holidays, and some of us will ponder our hopes for memories that were never to be for those children who died before memories could be made - but I'm hoping that maybe - thoughts of the true meaning of Easter can help each of us on this journey from mourning to joy during the Easter Holiday season ahead…

It seems to me that all the traditions of Easter reflect the belief that this is a time of celebration. Celebration of the resurrection, celebration of the rebirth, celebration and a salute to spring and yes, celebration of the coming to life again…

Yes, we may celebrate this holiday a little differently according to our beliefs and religious denominations, but for me to it helps to think that my precious children are totally at peace and happy at home in heaven... reborn again, just like the tulips, daffodils and easter lilies that appear after the long cold winter... reborn and blooming more beautiful than ever...

So many of us believe that the true meaning of Easter for all Christians, is to celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Since we were small, isn't that what most of us were taught? That once our journey on earth is finished – no matter how short or long that journey might be, that we will each rise again and have eternal rest and peace at home in heaven – reunited with those who have gone before us and our heavenly father…

So, until then, I hope you and yours can find peace and joy this Easter season.