Podcasts about bereaved parent

Today's guest, Teresa Davis, currently goes by another name - The Grief Mentor. She hosts a podcast that is released twice a week. On the podcast, Teresa works to 'shine a light into the shadows, helping you discover that joy and pain can coexist, and that you can still have a purpose here on earth.' In addition to the podcast, Teresa offers a free grief survival guide, a free grief masterclass, a grief worship playlist, weekly newsletter, monthly support groups, and even one-on-one Grief Mentor sessions. As amazing as all of these things are, however, the thing that I admire most about Teresa is her sharing of the story that got her to this place of hope and healing in her grief journey. Though Teresa had a strong faith and was leading Bible studies, that faith was rocked to its core the day her oldest son, Andrew, a 32-year-old commercial pilot, was killed in a plane crash. She says that the world lost its color that day. She felt betrayed by God. God could have protected Andrew that day, but he didn't. She had devoted her life to God, but she felt He had failed her. Over the following months, Teresa found herself at a crossroads. She could either continue living in the darkness or she could choose to rebuild her life. Interestingly, a visit to the plane crash site months after the accident became a pivotal moment in her life. The smell of jet fuel was still in the air as she searched for where the cockpit had crashed into the ground. Suddenly, she heard God's voice in her head repeating Scripture - 'Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here.' Instead of feeling like the place of death and destruction, the crash site began to feel like a holy spot, the place where Andrew began his new life in heaven.  Over the next months and years, Teresa's faith continued to grow and evolve. It took on a strength it had never had before. Teresa began to pray, 'Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.' He has answered this prayer again and again. Now, by working as the Grief Mentor, Teresa takes other grieving parents by the hand, showing them how to feel joy in the midst of chaos.

None of us want to be bereaved parents. We love the idea of being a new parent. It is a title we wear proudly. We love the first time our children call us mama or dada. Although many thoughts go through our minds when welcoming our new baby, the average parent certainly does not think that they could ever be a bereaved parent. Our children aren't supposed to die before us, so those thoughts don't enter our minds. When talking to Hollis's mom, Amanda, she is quick to admit that she does not want to be a bereaved parent. She wants to continue to be Hollis's mom, but she wants to be a regular parent and not a bereaved one. Of course, this is impossible. Amanda wants to continue to be Hollis's mom, which means she is a bereaved parent. In the almost two years since Hollis died, Amanda has started two new jobs. She dreads the questions that will invariably come asking about her children. How many children do you have? Four. What are their ages? This is when Amanda needs to take a deep breath before answering, knowing that this answer will now ruin someone's day. Amanda longs to be able to answer this question and not have the asker suddenly become awkward and start fumbling with words. She wishes that they could accept the simple fact that she gives when she says that her son passed away at the age of four, but she knows this will not happen. They will mumble an apology and avert their eyes. They likely will turn away and not ask her further questions about her family at all. They don't want to think too hard about being the parent of a child who died because they certainly don't want it to happen to them. This conversation makes me think more about the podcast and my social media accounts. My primary focus will always be helping bereaved parents heal, but perhaps a secondary focus should be helping everyone be more accepting of us as bereaved parents. I am so proud to be Andy's mom, and that means I am a bereaved mom. I never want to be ashamed to say it. Maybe announcing it will help others realize the term is not taboo, and they can accept us as we are today.

Typically we steer clear of breaking down grief by type of relationship, but today we're making an exception. In this episode we talk about the experience of grieving the death of an adult child. This is a topic that has been requested on many occasions, both because it is pervasive and also often overlooked. If you've experienced this personally or love someone who has, we hope this episode offers some insights and ideas for how we as a society can be better equipped to understand this unique type of loss. Visit whatsyourgrief.com for hundreds of free articles we've written about all things grief and loss. If you like the podcast, we think you'll love WYG Grief Support Hub. It's our online membership community that brings grievers together for learning, creativity, and support. You don't have to navigate grief alone - participate in grief conversation sessions and groups, a discussion forum, grief support webinars, creativity projects, community writing sessions, and more. You can learn more here and join.  If you're a grief professional, we have a community for you too. https://whatsyourgrief.com/grief-professionals-community/ You can also make a donation here at any time to help us keep the lights on.  Feeling holiday grief dread? https://whatsyourgrief.com/product/rewriting-the-holidays-after-loss-eworkbook/ Get Lessons to Write On: A Guided Grief Journaling Intensive here.  https://whatsyourgrief.ck.page/products/lessons-to-write-on-grief-journaling Pick up the What's Your Grief Book Bookshop.org Barnes & Noble Amazon Books A Million IndieBound

In our last episode, Donna Evans shared the challenges and joys of raising her special-needs son James Bruce to adulthood, and the deep grief she experienced when he unexpectedly went to Heaven in February of 2022.  Today we have a great conversation about the sovereignty of God in the midst of our broken pieces and the ministry He has given her because of her role as mom to James Bruce.  I'm glad you're here, because I believe you're in for a blessing!  Click HERE to visit Donna's blog and see all the wonderful resources she has available! I would love to hear your thoughts on the show. Click here to send me a message!** IMPORTANT** - All views expressed by guests on this podcast are theirs alone, and may not represent the Statement of Faith and Statement of Beliefs of the While We're Waiting ministry. We'd love for you to connect with us here at While We're Waiting! Click HERE to visit our website and learn about our free While We're Waiting Weekends for bereaved parentsClick HERE to learn more about our network of While We're Waiting support groups all across the country. Click HERE to subscribe to our YouTube channelClick HERE to follow our public Facebook pageClick HERE to follow us on Instagram Click HERE to follow us on Twitter Click HERE to make a tax-deductible donation to the While We're Waiting ministryContact Jill by email at: jill@whilewerewaiting.org

Susan Kalansky shares her journey At the 47th National Conference of The Compassionate Friends; an enriching and supportive event for many newer and long-time bereaved parents, grandparents, and siblings. https://www.compassionatefriends.org The post Susan Kalansky: Being Both a Bereaved Parent and Sibling appeared first on Open to Hope.

Send Victoria a Text Message!Grief is a teacher, a harsh one, but it comes bearing profound lessons. In today's heart-touching episode of Grieving Voices, I sit down with Dave Roberts, whose personal odyssey through loss is nothing short of inspiring. He shares his intimate experiences following the passing of his daughter to a rare cancer.From grappling with unimaginable pain to discovering a spiritual connection and wisdom beyond the veil - this episode isn't just about coping; it's about transcending grief and embracing life in its entirety.Key points covered in this episode:Dave reflects on three significant dates that changed his life.He discusses the rarity and severity of alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma, which ultimately led to his daughter's passing just ten months after her diagnosis.The profound impact on Dave's life post-loss, including how none of his professional training prepared him for grieving as a father.His involvement with bereavement support groups helped him feel less alone but also prompted deeper reflection on what more he needed for healing.He discusses a chance encounter that opened up new spiritual pathways that transformed Dave's approach to grief, leading him to coauthor a book.The importance of continuing bonds with loved ones who have passed away is highlighted as an integrative process for moving forward while still honoring those we've lost.Dave doesn't hesitate to discuss raw emotions or societal expectations around male vulnerability. He dives deep into these topics, offering solace and understanding to anyone struggling silently.Let Dave's words guide you through the darkness toward the light—because sometimes it takes hearing someone else's story to begin rewriting our own.RESOURCES:Co-Authored BookThe Teaching Journeys PodcastBereaved Parents of the USAGrieving Voices | Ep 40 with Chris KerrNetflix | Surviving DeathCONNECT:Author WebsitePersonal WebsiteFacebookInstagramLinkedIn_______NEED HELP?National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255Crisis Support the Show.This episode is sponsored by Do Grief Differently™️, my twelve-week, one-on-one, in-person/online program for grievers who have suffered any type of loss to feel better. Click here to learn new tools, grief education, and the only evidence-based method for moving beyond the pain of grief. Would you like to join the mission of Grieving Voices in normalizing grief and supporting hurting hearts everywhere? Become a supporter of the show HERE.

When Sandy first contacted me after her son, Blake's death, I never imagined that less than 2 years later she would be sharing his story on the podcast. When Sandy wrote to me, it was only 6 weeks since Blake had died. The pain was palpable throughout her email. Her very last sentence to me read, 'This is the MOST excruciating pain ever!!' She was filled with anger toward the doctors who failed to diagnose Blake quickly enough and see just how sick he was. Sandy says that she was in a very dark place for over a year. She posted on social media about Blake, finding others to share her pain. She would spend time with Blake's friends on his birthday and other special days, but Sandy stayed in darkness focusing on Blake's death and all that had been lost. In a way, Sandy felt comfortable in the grief. She felt that if she didn't continue to tightly hang on to the grief, she might start to forget Blake. It felt like the best way to honor Blake was to remain in her dark grief. Amazingly, it was a near-death experience that showed her a new way. Sandy had a long history of diabetes, but after Blake died, she neglected routine doctor's visits and her diabetes went out of control. She was found by a friend unconscious in her home in a coma. She had to be intubated and placed in the ICU with failing organs. Her family was told that Sandy would not survive. Somehow, however, Sandy did survive. Doctors and nurses in the hospital all came to see the 'miracle patient' who should have never lived. Suddenly, everything changed for Sandy. She realized that for some reason, her life was spared. It was not her time to die. She decided to rededicate her life entirely. Instead of focusing on Blake's death, Sandy worked to focus on his life. She tells his story to anyone who will listen. She talks about his amazing heart and giving nature. She educates others on tissue and organ donation. Sandy decided that for the remainder of her days, she would focus on living in the light and not the darkness. It is not grief that holds her close to Blake. It is her unchanging, amazing love for Blake that continues to keep him close.

After Daphne's 5-year-old daughter, Lydia, was killed in a car accident 15 years ago, Daphne struggled to find any hope. She dreaded looking at her daughter's closed bedroom door. Her therapist gave her a bit of advice that she still lives out all these years later. Daphne's therapist told her to 'sprinkle a little bit of Lydia' throughout the house so Daphne did. She put Lydia's favorite nail polish on the counter and hung Lydia's feather boa on her curtains. She worked to leave little bits of her precious daughter everywhere.   Now after 15 years and a move to a new house, there are not quite as many of Lydia's possessions around the house, but the spirit still applies. Daphne has written a book about her grief journey, co-authored another book, and been a contributor for a dozen others. She has a blog called 'The Sweeter Side' on her website, grievinggumdrops.com. Through her writing, Daphne sprinkles a little bit of Lydia in order to bring hope and healing to grieving parents everywhere.   Now, Daphne has a new dream. Over the years, Daphne has met many grieving moms, especially through Compassionate Friends and Ellie's Way. She has followed many bereaved moms (including me) on social media and noted how many of us are working to bring little bits of hope to grieving families. This gave Daphne an idea. What if she asked these moms to submit their own little stories to make a collection? This collection would tell the stories of their late children as well as give little messages of hope - little stories that could help to inspire other moms on their own grief journey.   So that is exactly what Daphne is doing. She is collecting 52 stories from 52 different moms to make a book that a grieving mom would read over a full year. Daphne still laments the fact that it took her so long to find any hope in her grief. She wants to provide a bit of hope each week to moms who are feeling hopeless. It is a gift to them as well as a gift to all of us who are contributing, because now we, too, can sprinkle a little bit of our own children out to others in the world.   To contribute, email DaphneBGreer@gmail.com

'What if?' This question haunts many bereaved parents long after their child dies. My 'what if' questions tend to be: What if I hadn't let him change before we left for the game? What if I had picked up the ticket so we didn't need or stop at the office? Or even what if we picked him up from soccer practice instead of carpooling home? For others, the 'what if' questions might be: What if I had taken him to the doctor sooner? What if I had listened more? Or what if I had done this one thing differently? All of these questions and more linger on. For today's guest, Donna, and her husband, Kent, the 'what if' questions continue as well. In fact, Donna shares 4 very specific 'what if' questions that she relives when thinking about her son, Devin's final bout with ITP. As parents, we do anything and everything possible to protect our children. Knowing what Donna knows now, she would have acted differently that day, but with the information they had at the time, each decision seemed to be the right one. The problem, of course, is that there is absolutely no way to predict what will happen in the future. There was no way that I could have known that leaving a few minutes earlier or later might mean that we wouldn't be the car that was hit that night. We traveled that patch of highway hundreds of times and had taken the kids to many baseball games. How could I have known that on this trip Andy would be killed? Given Devin's ALPS diagnosis, he had been through several bouts of ITP. Each episode had been treated with the same protocol resulting in recovery each time. How could Donna, Kent or any member of Kent's medical team have known that this time, instead of recovering, Devin would have a devastating brain bleed? The reason that we focus on these 'what if' questions is because we desperately want there to be a different outcome. We replay things in our minds wondering if our child might still be here if we had made even one slight change. Unfortunately, that is impossible. We don't have the ability to turn back time. The challenge is to attempt to let go of the guilt and to let 'what if' questions begin to fade away.

Those of us who have lost a child can begin to dread the end-of-the-year holidays way before they arrive, especially the Christmas season. Several years ago, as Laura struggled with this, she ended up putting together her own advent time with God. Today she talks about this, and how you can join her on a […] The post 237: Preparing for Advent as a Bereaved Parent appeared first on GPS Hope.

Some of my favorite interviews are ones where the child whose story we tell reminds me of my Andy. I tend to get a little more emotional during those interviews because I am reminded of stories in my own past. I feel a special connection to these mothers as I see a little of myself in them. This is one of those special interviews, and Jackie is one of those moms who I feel like I already have a deep connection with despite having only an hour long Zoom conversation. Dane, like Andy, was a kid who felt big emotions. He could get anxious easily, but would get excited over seemingly little events in life. He was a great friend to other kids and loved spending time with his family, especially Jackie, who he often called 'the best mom ever' (although I did tell her that Andy and Dane would likely argue about who had the best mom). Jackie told stories of how the two of them would go to a Red Box machine and leave a bag of microwave popcorn and money for a movie. Dane would beg his mom to wait in the parking lot to see if if the next customer 'got excited' when finding their surprise. After Dane was suddenly killed at the age of 11 while on a snowmobiling trip with his Dad, many people remembered Dane's sweet loving spirit. More than one person said that everyone should learn to 'live like Dane.' The phrase struck a cord with Dane's family and they started a 'Live like Dane' Facebook group. The family even made little cards with Dane's picture and a QR code linking to the Facebook page. The card reads, 'This random act of kindness was done in honor of Dane McCoy. No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted. Please help continue his legacy by paying it forward.' People are then encouraged to share their random acts of kindness stories on Facebook. I love this idea. I love that Dane can be remembered in this way by people he never even met. Today, I urge all of us to 'Live like Dane' by surprising a friend, or even a stranger, with a random act of kindness. I can picture Andy and Dane together looking down from heaven, getting 'so excited' as someone discovers their unexpected gift.

Timing. It is said that timing is everything. Although timing may not be everything, it does make a great impact on so much in life The other day, I lost a precious earring that my husband had given to me as a gift. We looked and looked for the earring thinking it was gone forever, but timing (with perhaps a little help from heaven) saved my earring. At the moment that it fell out of my ear, I had a grocery bag over my right shoulder even though I normally carry bags on my left. That earring fell at the perfect moment in time to land right in that grocery bag. Throughout my talk with today's guest, Rebecca, I thought about timing. From the time of her routine prenatal ultrasound with her son, Ethan, Rebecca and her husband knew that Ethan was not going to be a healthy baby. The option of terminating the pregnancy was offered to the family. They declined. Doctors suggested that they simply let Ethan die when he was born, but again, they declined. Rebecca and all her family and friends prayed for a miracle. They knew that little Ethan could be healed and they needed to do everything medically possible for Ethan to give him a chance to have a life here on earth. Ethan was born and Rebecca lived with him in the NICU. She continued her earnest prayers to God, and then, after 6 weeks, Rebecca and her husband knew that it was time. It was time to let Ethan go. Ethan was ready and they were ready. Ethan died in a beautiful hospice unit free of tubes and lines on his own timing. Rebecca would not have changed one single thing. Over the next weeks, Rebecca started listening to this podcast to help in her healing. Almost 10 months ago, Rebecca wrote to me to tell me about Ethan and that she wanted to share their story, but again, this is where timing comes back in. She was early in pregnancy with another baby, and her anxiety was very high that things would go wrong. She felt that she had to safely deliver this baby before talking to me about Ethan. So that leads us to today and the sharing of Ethan's story. The timing was not right for Rebecca last December, but now, after baby Miles' birth, the timing is just perfect.

For the first three months after Angela lost her daughter, Alonna, Angela said that she was in a fog and did not move. Alonna was shot and killed just as she was being dropped off to attend a bonfire at a friend's house. Unbeknownst to her, Alonna was arriving just as an altercation was beginning in the front yard. Angela's amazing, talented, and beloved daughter was gone, and Angela didn't know how to continue living herself.   Months passed without Angela even being able to stay in her own home. Even getting up to shower was difficult. At some point, however, Angela had a realization. She thought, 'I need somebody and somebody needs me.' Angela needed help that only another bereaved mom could give her and knew that she could give other grieving moms help as well. After being unable to find a group for grieving moms, Angela started a monthly support group where grieving moms could gather and offer love and affirmation to each other. She named the organization 'Alonna's Song' in memory of her wonderful daughter.   More recently, Angela realized that she could do more than help bereaved moms locally in her state of Indiana. She could be a link to connect grieving moms across the country and even around the globe. Angela says, "Maybe I don't have the exact right words that will give comfort to a mom in California, but perhaps a mom in Alabama does." I want to be the link that will bring those two women together. Through her podcast, Angel Moms... "Hopes of Heaven", Angela does just that. She shares stories of angel moms everywhere so we can support each other by hearing other stories of loss and hope. (This week, Angela interviews me.)   Angela ends every episode of her podcast with a final question, 'Momma, what are your hopes for heaven?' Angela's personal answer is this. "It is my hope that heaven is having heaven be everything that I have ever read about heaven and more! My hope is to be totally blown away. My hope it that Alonna will be there waiting and that it will feel like no time has passed at all." Thank you, Angela. Those hopes are all of our hopes as well.

Silence is deafening. Freedom is imprisonment. These are the first words that today's guest, Suma, wrote in her journal after her 18-year-old daughter, Shrinidhi died. Although Shrinidhi was never able to walk, talk or even use her hands, the family's home was always bustling with noise and happiness. After Shrinidhi unexpectedly died in her sleep, the silence was indeed, deafening. Since Shrinidhi's diagnosis of Rett syndrome at the age of 2, Suma's life revolved around helping her daughter live her best life. Suma was quite literally her daughter's hands, feet, and voice. When Shrinidhi decided that she wanted to become a published author, it was Suma who sat at her side as her daughter used her eyes on her communication device to write each exact word that she wanted. It might take hours for her to write a single sentence, but the two of them would sit together until it was perfect. Shrinidhi was even able to complete and actually publish her book as well as complete her high school diploma. Her accomplishments became an inspiration for girls with Rett Syndrome around the world. (To buy Shrinidhi's book, Extraordinary Wild Adventures on Amazon, click on link.  Since Shrinidhi died several months ago, Suma has struggled to find purpose. There are not more stories to help write, no homework to make sure she completes, no therapies and no doctor's appointments. In a way, Suma, is more 'free' than she has been for 18 years, but as Suma says, that freedom feels like 'imprisonment'. Suma feels lost. Her world was already isolated before her daughter's death, with her address book primarily consisting of doctors, nurses and therapists, but now, without Shrinidhi to care for, they are simply gone. The once small life now feels microscopic. That is her current struggle, to find purpose for her life after losing Shrinidhi. Right now, part of that purpose feels like reaching out to other moms whose medically fragile children have died so that perhaps they can find a bit of purpose together.

When I see a cardinal flying around me, I believe it is a little 'sign' of Andy. I have many stories of cardinals, including two recent ones that came just when I needed them. Friends of mine who are bereaved parents have similar stories of things that remind them of their children. Seeing hearts in nature, rainbows, and the colors orange and purple are just a few of them. Now I have another thing to add to the list - pacifiers. Yes, pacifiers. I have spoken to a lot of dads over the past four years, but Vincent's Dad may be the proudest dad I have ever met. As a 33-year-old first time dad, Trent was ready to be a father. From the first moments of pregnancy, Vincent was treasured. Trent took hundreds of pictures of Vincent over his four months of life. Shortly before Vincent died of SIDS, Trent and Vincent played a little game together. Trent would put his pacifier in Vincent's mouth and then Vincent would quickly try to spit it out. Trent would push it back in and Vincent would start to spit it out again. On and on this little game continued much to the delight of both father and son. The day that Vincent died was devastating for this new young family. There would be no new pictures and no more fun father-son games. Just as suddenly as the joy of fatherhood entered his life on the day Vincent was born, all of this joy was suddenly snatched away. Trent was in shock as he drove into the empty parking lot of the funeral home that would help the family care for Vincent's body. As he pulled into a spot, he spotted something in the middle of the parking space. He quickly stopped and jumped out of the truck. One word that came out of his mouth - Vincent. He bent down and picked up a pacifier. This was not just any pacifier, mind you. It was the exact type, color and size of Vincent's pacifier. Now several months later, Trent still keeps that pacifier close by. It is a reminder of Vincent and the joy of fatherhood. It is a reminder of every precious day that Trent had with his son. Now, every time I see a pacifier, I too, will think of baby Vincent and his amazing dad. *For more great stories and pictures, follow @grupata on Instgram

Today's guest, Aga, compares her life of grief to living in a deep, dark forest. She says that she longs to see light. Occasionally, bits of light do find their way down through all of the darkness, but then, in an instant, the light disappears, and she is left in the darkness again. I love this analogy so much because it emphasizes the unpredictability of having those moments of light and how brief and fleeting they can often be.   Aga will be the first to say that she had a stressful life when her son, Maks was alive. He was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome, and her life really revolved around getting him all of the care that he needed. There was constant anxiety. She wondered each day if she would get a call from school to come pick up Max if he was ill. Every holiday had back-up plans in case Max was sick or something else happened.   Today, almost a year and a half after Maks' death at the age of 12, Aga has none of that stress and anxiety, and she hates it. She hates that she could now go to a movie after work or travel out of town with almost no notice. Friends from the outside likely think that the 'silver lining' of her son's sudden death is that she has gained freedom in her life. For Aga though, that freedom is suffocating, and she hates it. She longs for the anxiety of her former life when she was constantly worried about Maks. She feels lost without it.   That brings me back to her amazing forest example because not only is Aga in the dark forest of grief, she is lost in the dark forest of grief. She no longer knows her purpose, has no idea where she is going, or even who she is anymore. This is why we need people to walk with us in the forest of grief. We need people who have navigated the forest for a while who will hold our hand when things get especially dark. These people will not have the answers to all of our questions, but they will stand beside us as we begin to figure out the answers for ourselves.

Five years later. There aren't words to describe the heaviness of this day. I got an email from my father-in-law saying that he felt like their lives ended when they received the phone call that night. I couldn't agree more. The family we are now is not the one we were 5 years ago. From the outside, we may look the same. We still go up north to the cottage, go tubing in the boat, and eat Grandpa's famous ribs, but we aren't the same. There is a hole there that people don't want to acknowledge. I often fear that Eric and I are the only ones who miss Andy, and then I get an email like that. As I was 'preparing' for this horrible anniversary day last week, I told my therapist I was scared to invite other people to an event because I was afraid that no one would come. That very night, however, I was texted a picture proving that people outside our family miss Andy, too. The family of Andy's best friend, Joni, was at a Chelsea soccer game in Chicago, and Joni and his family were holding a huge sign which read, 'Rooting for our team, Andy.' They remembered and made a point to take Andy with them on a trip to see that team that Joni and Andy loved to cheer on together. Joni told me that they felt him there with them all night. Ultimately, what I decided to do to honor Andy Tuesday was to have a Livestream with Eric and Gwen to talk about the day and share stories about Andy. I asked others to come on and watch and share a memory, but knew that if no one came, it would not really hurt as much as having an event with no one there. After the Livestream, I announced that we would go to the cemetery, but I had low expectations that anyone would come. I felt like I just needed to end my days there with Andy, getting a few hugs from people who loved him. I was actually shocked, but more than 25 people came to give us hugs. I likely got more than 50 hugs and my heart felt just a little less heavy. These days are incredibly hard, but surrounding yourselves with people who love you can make it just a little easier. I'm just glad that I was brave enough to ask.

Every week before I release a new podcast episode, I listen to the full episode one last time in order to get one or two take-home points that I can write about to accompany the podcast release. I know that some people will never listen to the episode and only read these paragraphs either through Facebook, Instagram, or my email list. I have been told that sometimes listening is just too painful and reading the little introduction is all that people can handle. Today, I have a problem. I would need 30 or 40 paragraphs in order to cover the key points of this episode. Karen's insights, although she is so early in her grief after losing her daughter, Ashley to lymphoma, are simply amazing. As I listened, I kept changing my mind about what the write-up should include. Karen just kept sharing nugget after nugget of priceless wisdom. We talked about the fact that the body is amazing at what it can endure until it suddenly can't anymore. She shared the wisdom of her rabbi who said that she could not believe in a God who would cause Ashley's death to happen, but does believe in a God who is crying with us and surrounding us with the love that we need to get through the pain of her loss. We discuss the power of words and the difference between trauma and TRAUMA. The talk about how bittersweet is a term that does not do justice to either end of the emotional spectrum. The pain of your child being missing is excruciating, not just bitter, while the event we are celebrating can be amazing and not just sweet. We discuss the fact that we will never get to the other side of the tunnel of grief while we still live. We can definitely see beauty and even some light in the tunnel, but we will never see the light at the end of the tunnel. By now, I think you see my dilemma. There is just too much to share in a concise way. There is only one answer. This is a podcast episode that you simply must listen to from beginning to end. It actually may even be a good idea to take out a pad of paper to jot down some notes. I know you won't regret it.

"I'm gonna leave." This is such an innocent phrase. It is something that Chester's son, Corban, likely said to his parents hundreds of times over his 21 years of life. It meant that he was going somewhere - to school, to the movies, maybe just out with friends. He was going somewhere specific. That is why it was so healing for Chester when he learned that these were the last words that Corban said to the first responders seconds before he died. Corban had been in a car accident and had been speaking with the ambulance team as they were waiting for help to get him out of the car. He calmly said, "I'm gonna leave," and then he quietly took his last breath and died. Although the ambulance workers tried to save him and get him back, he was already gone. That phrase is what gave Chester and his wife a little bit of peace in the most horrible time of their lives. If Corban said he was 'gonna leave,' it meant that he was going somewhere. His life wasn't just over; it was just continuing somewhere else. He wasn't on earth anymore, but he seemed to know at that moment that he was going on to heaven. Only three weeks later, Chester started scribbling words down on a napkin based on these final words. These words became lyrics and a tune started forming in Chester's head. The first lines of the chorus are as follows:       If you say you're gonna leave, you're goin' somewhere       But the place we wanna be is where you are After help from musicians and eventually a producer in Nashville, the final, beautiful song was completed - a song celebrating Corban's life and remembering that someday we will all be reunited 'somewhere' together. It was released as 'Gonna Leave' by CorbansDad just in time for Father's Day this year. What a wonderful tribute from a father to his amazing son. I guarantee listening will touch your heart. To learn more, visit www.corbansdad.com. To watch the YouTube video and hear 'Gonna Leave', click here.

When someone asked Elizabeth what her grief felt like in the months after her 9-week-old baby, Delia Grace died, she described it as if her body was on fire, but that the fire was invisible to others. She says that she tried to continue functioning, but that it was impossible to do the 'normal things of life' when you felt like you were on fire. You can't think. You can't focus. You can't understand what others are saying to you. It's just too painful to function. Since Delia Grace died 7 years ago, Elizabeth and her family started an organization to help other bereaved families grieving the loss of a child called Forever Our Angel (foreverourangel.com). They send books free of charge to grieving families. They also sell a children's book (with or without stuffed book buddies) written by Elizabeth to help grieving children. There are resources all over the website introducing grieving families to retreats and other resources nationwide. We as grieving parents have experienced tremendous suffering. As awful as that suffering is, however, we can and do learn from our suffering. As difficult as it is to admit, we can grow in our suffering. Suffering changes us. Not all of those changes have to be bad ones, however. Some of those changes can be good. They can make us better people. One of my favorite lines from this week's podcast was when Elizabeth said, "We have a wealth of knowledge that but for our experience, we would not have been able to attain." Through her foundation and speaking to others, Elizabeth is doing a tremendous job teaching others to have compassion for those who grieve and suffer. Whenever Elizabeth is introduced to a newly bereaved parent, she says that her heart breaks a little inside. She doesn't want them to be here and experience this pain, but since they are, she wants them to know that she is there for them. Elizabeth says, "If you are here, you have me. You don't have to do this alone." That's what we all need, isn't it? A place to feel a little less alone in our suffering.

Trigger Warning: This episode contains the story of a loss of a child and the journey of grief following.  The loss of a child is something that nobody can understand unless they experience it. But bereaved parents need support, validation, and awareness.  Today, I'm joined by bereavement and grief advocate Stefania Thomson as she shares her story of navigating loss and discusses how to support bereaved parents. Show Notes: https://bit.ly/3OmgO3x  Book a Free 15 min Consult with a mom therapist: momwell.com  Follow Momwell on Instagram: instagram.com/momwell  Sign up for our weekly VIP Newsletter: momwell.com/newsletter  Register for one of our popular workshops and courses: momwell.com/shop Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I first met today's guest, Destia, when I was a guest speaker for Lisa Boehm's Hope and Healing Together Community last year. I learned that Destia's son had died of Moyamoya disease, and that, in her grief, Destia was trying to educate the medical community about Moyamoya in order to help save lives. Destia decided to come on the podcast to continue this process of educating people about this rare genetic disorder as well as get to talk about her amazing son. After recording, I often hear back from guests and continue emailing them. In fact, some of my closest friendships today started as those email exchanges. I was a little surprised to hear from Destia, however, as she told me that she was concerned that she didn't show enough emotion during the interview. She wrote, "I am really broken over my son's death two+ years ago, but I might have only shown my gratefulness that we had him as long as we did. In other words, I did not show my deep grief."  I quickly reassured her that I thought it was lovely and that Aaron would be so proud of her, but her words did make me a little sad. They didn't make me sad because I thought the interview was anything but great. It made me sad because all of us as bereaved parents feel so much pressure to show just the right amount of sadness to the world. Over the last 4 years, I know I have occasionally had comments from listeners that they stopped listening for a while because I was not sad enough. I have had other times when I have felt like I have been too emotional during a specific episode. I am actually quite thankful that Destia wrote that to me because it reminds me that all of us show our emotions differently on any given day. I am in a group text of bereaved moms and one of them asked today if there were certain days where we just felt like we were on the verge of tears all day. Many of us quickly responded yes to that question. There are other days, however, when we do feel a bit more 'together'. On those days, we may seem more thankful than sad. Today, I am reminded that both are perfectly fine and completely normal.

When starting this podcast almost 4 years ago now, I had a goal. I wanted to create a resource for bereaved parents, a platform for parents to tell stories of their children and their personal grief journeys. I wanted it to feel safe and encouraging, offering a little bit of hope as they traversed through the dark, lonely road of grief. I realized while recording this special 200th episode that we have together created so much more than a resource. We have created a community. As Gwen read each child's name out loud this week, images flew through my mind - a picture of a child or family, a favorite color, a sport or sports team. Some of these images brought tears to my eyes while others a bit of a smile, but they all brought a sense of community. During recording, I talk quite a long time about how I think of Caleb and Chrisy (Ep. 19: Caleb's Mom) whenever I see the color orange. As I sat down that afternoon to edit the episode outside on my deck, an unusual bright orange butterfly landed beside me and sat for a bit. It was gone before I had time to snap a picture, but I thought about Caleb immediately. Later, I went to therapy, and as I was leaving looked up at the calendar that hung by the exit - another orange butterfly - Caleb again. That evening, I went to golf league and my partner was using bright orange golf balls. (Oh my word! Caleb again!) I reached into my bag and picked out 2 bright yellow Callaway Supersoft balls (my favorite brand) that Eric had recently found for me. I immediately thought of my friend Laura and her Luke (Ep. 102: Luke's Mom). If Caleb was to be represented on the golf course, then Luke was going to be as well. Luke loved yellow just as much as Caleb loved orange. Then, things got even crazier. I am not a good golfer. The idea of me getting par is unusual, and a birdie is almost unthinkable, but on the night before Andy died, I did just that. I got a birdie in Ladies League. It had not happened since and I sort of thought it was a gift from God that would never happen again. On the third hole of the night, however, I hit a great tee shot. My second shot was even better - 140 yards right on the green rolling closer and closer to the hole until stopping a mere 15 inches from the hole. Could it be? Could I really hit another birdie on the day I recorded episode 200? As I tapped in the birdie putt with my yellow 'Luke' ball, I almost started to cry. I shared with the women that I was golfing with the story of my last birdie and the fact that I had just recorded episode 200. We all teared up, feeling like it was a little gift from God and Andy. I then decided to share my orange stories from the day with the ladies. One of the women then said that she also loves the color orange. She had an orange wedding, showed me her orange phone and even just bought a cottage on Orange Ave. As we finished the round, she noticed an orange golf ball sitting near the cart path. She immediately picked it up to hand it to me. Before even looking, I knew it would be an orange Callaway Supersoft. It had to be - a gift to me from Caleb on my special day. As we sat down to dinner outside, our cloth napkins and centerpieces were - you guessed it - orange. We ate dinner and then went to try some dessert. Apparently, there were amazing cupcakes that evening. Looking at the cupcake types, I thought I would cry again. Sitting on the table were three lemon cupcakes. It seems that Caleb finally gave Andy a 'turn' to give me a gift. You see, Andy's favorite type of cake is lemon. We always had lemon cake for his birthday. The last time we ate lemon cake together was that night almost 5 years ago when I had my birdie. We celebrated Valeriano's birthday with a lemon bundt cake that Andy helped me buy. Less than a week later, we would serve lemon cake at his funeral. And now, on the day I recorded episode 200, I got to eat the best lemon cupcake I have ever tasted. There are some days when I wonder if I should keep doing the podcast or if I should give it up. Listener numbers that had been steadily increasing had become a bit more flat recently. Were people still interested or had the podcast run its course? Then I have days like this when I have my answer. It does not matter if I have thousands or dozens of downloads in a given week. The people who listen are meant to be there. They are meant to be a part of my community. These children impact my life and the lives of all who listen. Today, I got special little gifts from Caleb, Luke, and Andy. I like to think maybe they were all planning it together in heaven.

After Greg and Cathy's adult son died unexpectedly by suicide, every part of their lives was impacted by the grief. Day-to-day tasks seemed almost impossible. They were now looking at the world through the lens of grief. Cathy says that some days she would drive to the grocery store only to sit in the parking lot for a few minutes, realize that it would just be too hard, and then drive back home again. Now, many people said to Cathy during these first weeks and months, "Call me if you need anything." The logical thing for Cathy to do while she was sitting in that parking lot would have been to call one of those friends and ask if they could meet her at the store or even go to the store for her, but in that moment, it was impossible for Cathy to use the lens of logic. Her emotions were out of control focusing on everything that she could not do at that moment. Thinking of a 'logical' solution was impossible so she just drove back home knowing that she would have to do without the groceries. This is just one of the many reasons that Greg and Kathy felt called to start a ministry of their own in order to educate the public about child loss to help them understand a little bit about what grieving parents go through each and every day. They started an organization called The Empty Chair Endeavor and recently launched a podcast entitled 'Hope After Child Loss' in order to give parents a platform to tell their personal stories of faith and grief. We may not be able to put down our own grief lens to look through the logic lens as the world around us does, but Greg and Cathy hope that their ministry will give listeners a little glimpse of what it feels like to look at life through the lens of grief.

Resilience is a word that we don't often think about before encountering tragedy. When we see people face difficult trials and then go on to triumph, people call them resilient, but what is resilience? How would we define resilience? As I was preparing for this podcast, I thought that I should probably look up a true definition so I did just that. Merriam-Webster discusses the word resilience in this way: 'In physics, resilience is the ability of an elastic material to absorb energy (such as from a blow) and release that energy as it springs back to its original shape. The recovery that occurs in this phenomenon can be viewed as analogous to a person's ability to bounce back after a jarring setback. Wow! That definition really blew me away. I love the visual of absorbing energy as if from a blow because that is exactly what it feels like when our child dies. It is a tremendous blow that knocks us off our feet. We fear that we will never be able to get up again. We might not be able to go on living. When we go through child loss, it feels like we receive blow after blow, again and again. That is where our resilience comes in. Even though we don't think we will be able to go on, somehow, we do. Somehow, we get out of bed. Somehow, life continues. We are not the same by any means, but we survive as we attempt to go back to something close to our original shape.  Today, Gwen and I discuss five key areas that impact our resilience and ability to continue living after tragedy. Thinking about these different points can help as we attempt to move forward through the pain of child loss. Our resilience can assist us so that we to not simply crumple up into a ball and whither away as a result of this great blow, but that we instead retain some of our shape and release positive energy back to those around us.

Since starting the podcast, I have often discussed how the mind and body are closely intertwined and how during our grief, one affects the other. Grief doesn't just make us sad. It impacts every aspect of our lives including our bodies. Just a few weeks ago, Gwen and I did an entire episode focusing on how our bodies are affected by grief. As we were preparing for that episode, Gwen suggested talking with today's guest, Cindi, due to her expertise in the area. Unfortunately, numerous scheduling difficulties made that impossible, but after talking with Cindi, I now understand why Gwen felt so strongly about having Cindi on the podcast. Cindi is a nurse by training so knew a lot about the functioning of the body. She was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis as a teen so knew the medical system long before her nursing training even started. I think all of us instinctively know that there is a body-mind connection, but it is not something that is really taught in Western medicine. We learn a disease model and are taught which medications or procedures to use in order to cure the disease state.  When Cindi's newborn daughter, Jessica, died during childbirth, Cindi really began to see just how much grief and stress impacted her physical health. She was living in chronic stress and although the body is amazingly resilient in many ways, it can only adapt and compensate so much. For Cindi, the chronic stress eventually led to liver failure which forced her to stop taking her arthritis meds. No arthritis medication meant that even getting out of bed was almost impossible. On the advice of a trainer, Cindi turned to functional medicine for answers and it completely changed her life. Now, Cindi's body and mind are both healthy, and she truly feels like she has an understanding of how grief and other life stresses affect the body. She works with individuals and their doctors to help them find a way to help their bodies find a state of wellness. To learn more, join Cindi's Wellness Warriors Facebook group or email her at cindiraymond@onpurposeLLC.org.

When listening to today's episode, you will likely not believe the number of times the word 'hope' is spoken. From the very first day that Jimmy's 22-year-old son, Lee, was killed in a car accident 16 years ago, Jimmy has clung to hope. Initially, that hope was given to him by another bereaved father who stayed with him in his home after Lee died. He said that although Jimmy could not feel it at that moment, the pain would not always be so intense and that his family would experience joy again. This was Jimmy's first glimpse of hope. In the coming months and years, Jimmy's grief was intense. There were days when he did not think he could survive the pain, but that little glimmer of hope remained. His faith never abandoned him, and he would constantly remind himself of Psalm 118:24 - This is the day that the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it. Each day, he would make the decision to choose joy. This did not mean that he did not grieve deeply. Jimmy cried daily and would allow the waves of grief to come. After those periods of deep mourning, however, he would feel just a bit better.  Over time, that hope grew stronger and the joyful moments became more frequent. Jimmy relates that years after Lee's death, their first grandchild was born. He remembers looking into his wife's eyes that day and seeing pure joy resonating there for the first time since the accident. It had taken years, but it was there. That does not mean that Jimmy has left his grief behind. It is always right there with him. He even apologized before we started recording, telling me that he would not be able to tell Lee's story without tears. That's what makes Jimmy's words so precious to me. If Jimmy were to tell me just to feel joy and forget about the pain, I would have cast him aside. If he had told me to cling to my grief and never feel joy again, I would not be able to feel any hope for the future. Jimmy, however, allows us to experience both. His parting words to me today were, 'There is hope for joy in your life again. Hold on to hope. Don't give up.'

When listening to the story of Donna's son, Andrew, I was immediately struck with how his life was touched by God. That is not to say Andrew didn't encounter difficulties. In fact, quite the opposite is true. God seemed to shut door after door in his face, but would at the exact right moment, open a window for life to take a new path. Andrew obediently crawled through each window. From a young age, Andrew dreamed of being an Air Force pilot. As he grew taller, he was eventually told that he would be too tall to be a fighter pilot. He was crushed, but soon afterward, God opened that window. He started going on church mission trips and met a missionary pilot. He found his answer - he could combine his love for flying with doing work in the mission field. After high school, he packed up and moved from Colorado to Spokane, Washington, to train to be a missionary pilot. Then, another door closed. His log book that he had to keep meticulous records in to become a pilot was stolen not once, but twice. In the meantime, he had started volunteering at Peak 7 Adventures, and God opened a window. Peak 7 is a faith-based non-profit providing outdoor adventures to under-resourced young people. He found a new purpose in life. He taught climbing and was a guide for white water rafting. Over 4 years, he spent more than 4500 hours teaching, loving, and encouraging young people. Even as he thought about returning home to Colorado, God intervened, and Andrew met and eventually married his soul mate, Emily. Stories like these are weaved throughout today's episode, but it certainly seemed like Andrew's final door was closed when he died suddenly from a fall just as he was getting ready to work on repairs in a local climbing area. As much as it felt like the end, however, Donna can now see that even in Andrew's death, a few smaller windows opened for others to crawl through. Peak 7 started a new program, naming it after Andrew. Fellow climbers continued the work Andrew started by replacing old, rusty pins in the climbing areas around Spokane.  Donna started going through windows as well. Initially, she went to a local GriefShare, then to a bereaved moms group 30 miles away. Next, Donna went through training to become a small group facilitator. Now, she hosts bereaved moms in her own home several times a year, giving them love and support as they suffer the worst pain a mother could know.  Thank you, God, for both doors and windows.

After talking with hundreds of bereaved parents over the past four years, we all seem to hold one fear in common. We are all scared, no matter how young or old our child was when they died, that over time, they will be forgotten. We are afraid that we are the only people who will remember our children. Many parents, myself included, set up foundations in our child's name to help them be remembered hoping that through the organization, they can live on. When someone goes out of their way to honor one of our children without our prompting, it is truly a gift. We know that our children were valued by others when they take the time to do something truly memorable in honor of them. That is a gift that today's guest Allison was given after her son, Noah, died suddenly from meningococcal meningitis. After Noah died, Allison gave the helmet that he wore as a plumber's apprentice back to the shop where he worked. Noah had worked for a large company, Dean-Lane Contractors, and was the youngest apprentice ever hired there. At 21 years of age, he had already been with the company for three years and was loved by all.  After Noah's death, the company quietly took care of many of the family's expenses, but the most precious thing that they did came as a total shock to Allison. As she walked through the front door of the shop one day, just inside the entrance was a massive picture of Noah sitting with his helmet and vest as well. Allison was in complete shock. She said to the boss as he came to greet her, " I can't believe that you just put that front and center in your massive company." He responded, "Well, where else would we put him? He belongs here." Just hearing her tell this story brought me to tears, This is what we want. We want our children to be honored and remembered. We want their lives to have mattered. We want others to smile just a little when they think of how they lived. Now, Allison knows that the employees and visitors to Dean-Lane Contractors have an opportunity to think of Noah each and every day as they walk through the front door.

Colin Campbell is a lot of things - writer, husband, friend - but the role he identifies with most is being a father. So, when his two teenage children, Ruby & Hart, were killed by a drunk driver in 2019, Colin was lost and terrified. Who was he without his kids? How would he survive the intensity of grief? Soon after their deaths, well-meaning friends and family would say, "There are no words," but for Colin, this phrase wasn't comforting. It left him feeling more alone because what he really needed were words. Words so he could talk about Ruby & Hart. Words to help articulate his pain. And words from others who shared what they remembered and missed about his children.    Colin's book, Finding the Words: Working Through Profound Loss With Hope and Purpose, outlines the words and actions that helped him stay close to Ruby & Hart while learning to live in a world without them.   Topics in our conversation: How Colin continues to honor and remember Ruby & Hart The rituals and routines that were helpful in the early days of grief How Colin navigates guilt and anger Learning to lean into the pain Finding ways for joy to live alongside grief The myth that the death of a child leads to divorce How Colin continues to embody being a father Colin's article in The Atlantic - What Losing My Two Children Taught Me About Grief

A Thousand Pounds. That's what today's guest, Bri, decided to name the book that she wrote 14 years after suddenly losing her 10 1/2-month-old son, Lach (available here). When Bri was thinking about what the pain of child loss felt like, she describes it as if you were suddenly asked to carry a thousand pounds with you everywhere you went. Even now, she does not think that the thousand pounds are gone or even that the load is lighter. It's just that over time you get a lot better at carrying it. The moment that Bri lost Lach, her life changed forever. As much as she didn't want to be one, she was a bereaved mom and would be for the rest of her life. Shortly after Lach's death, Bri was introduced to a mom who lost three of her eight children when they were hit by a car. She shared her story with Bri, and sat and listened as Bri told hers. She was struck by the honesty of this older, experienced bereaved mom. She did not sugar-coat anything and admitted to Bri that she would feel the pain of losing Lach forever. However, she was not a sad, broken woman. She radiated compassion and love. Bri thought, ‘If I have to be a bereaved mom, I want to be a bereaved mom like that.' She didn't have the choice of whether she was a bereaved mom. That had already been decided, but now Bri did get to decide what to do with that grief moving forward. She decided that out of her ashes, God could help her create something beautiful. Over the last 14 years, Bri has done just that. In addition to her book, Bri and her family created Lach's Legacy, an organization that works to bring ‘connection, comfort and hope to families after the unexpected loss of an infant' for families in South Dakota. In addition, the organization raises money used for research in SIDS research. Through her own pain, Bri is helping to create a little bit of hope for those in the depths of despair.

Today's guests Myron and Jenny would probably say that they had a pretty blessed life before August 2015. They had both grown up in the church. They had two amazing sons, Caleb and Jacob, who they brought up in the faith as well. In fact, on the night their boys got in their car accident, the whole family had volunteered at a church event. Caleb and Jacob had driven separately and stayed a bit longer for some last-minute cleanup, but the parents expected the boys to arrive home shortly after they did. Unfortunately, their truck was struck by a drunk driver. Jacob was instantly killed while Caleb suffered life-threatening injuries. Their lives were turned completely upside down. They tried to balance mourning Jacob's death with being present for Caleb as he recovered in the hospital from a traumatic brain injury. Although during the first weeks and months, they often felt like they were in a fog, they had an amazing church family to support them. They clung to their faith and slowly began to find some new purpose in their lives. Myron began speaking before young people on the dangers of drunk driving while Jenny turned inward and began to write. During the pandemic when the whole world seemed to shut down and isolate, Jenny started a blog and even published her book, 'God Prints: Finding Evidence of God in the Shattered Pieces of Life.' (Learn more about Jenny, her journey, and her plans for the future on her website, jennyleavitt.com.) When I asked today's guests, Myron and Jenny, to give some closing words for today's episode, Myron said that he just wanted people to know that there is always hope. Even when life seems so dark and you might feel like giving up, don't do it. Myron and Jenny are constantly sharing their story with others in order to help show others that they are not alone and that hope can defeat the darkness. Myron says he wants people to look at their lives and say, "If Myron and Jenny can get through this, so can I."

Today's guest, Krysten's oldest son, Ty, loved being in nature. Having recently graduated from high school in California, he had planned to go out to Colorado to enjoy the mountains and hike before enlisting in the Navy. Then the unthinkable happened. On September 2, 2019, Ty went on one of his frequent hiking trips with friends and died when he fell in a freak accident.  Krysten and her family were shocked and devastated. Throughout the episode today, Krysten relates how now, 3 1/2 years later, she is struggling to find her purpose. Should she work to make trails safer? Should she train to become a grief counselor? Should she find some other grand purpose for her life moving forward? She reminds me so much of the moms I have talked to over the years. She places this pressure on herself to do more. As I continued listening to Krysten, I began to see how little credit she is giving herself. She shared that on her birthday, she joined Facebook and on her very first post, decided to raise money for the search and rescue team that found Ty. Over 2 weeks, she raised $2500. Every year on the anniversary of Ty's death, she has 'TyFest' where Ty's friends gather to play soccer and reminisce about Ty. Every year it looks a little different, but she continues to honor and remember him. In addition, Krysten enjoys nature more herself and will go on hikes to places Ty would have enjoyed. On each special trip, Krysten sprinkles just a few of Ty's ashes along the way. To Krysten, all of these things might seem small and insignificant, but together they are already giving her purpose. They are all honoring her amazing son, Ty. Even sharing his life with others on the podcast helps to give her a little purpose as well. I hope that Krysten can help to show all of us that finding purpose doesn't have to be big. It can be quiet, soft, and beautiful.

When I first heard from a listener about today's guest, Patti, the email included an attachment which was a copy of the obituary that Patti wrote for her late son, Nick after he took his life almost three years ago. To say that it was powerful would be a vast understatement. It was beyond powerful. In fact, I feel like it is something that each and every parent should read. Her words about Nick's battle with addiction can help everyone understand that no family is immune to this disease.  Patty writes: 'Nick was robbed of his future by the disease of addiction. No one plans to be an addict. It is a disease, not a choice, and it has reached epidemic proportions. Nick started using drugs to make himself feel normal, to feel accepted, to feel worthy, because this is what the drug told him at first. What it didn't tell him is how it would devastate his family, take his education, take his jobs, take his future, take and take until it took his life. Addiction will take hold and destroy anyone in its path including families and loved ones of those afflicted. We all know someone who is affected by this epidemic. It isn't a character flaw, IT'S A DISEASE.' Patty's deep love for her son shines through in her words. She reads the entire obituary in the episode, and it is truly a love story for her son. Since Nick's death, Patti has worked to end the stigma of addiction. As Nick went through his 13-year battle with addiction, he felt shame. He didn't want people to know. That's not what Patti saw in Nick - Patti saw a brave young man fighting for his life every single day because that's exactly who Nick was, a brave fighter. Patty ends Nick's obituary in this way: 'In memory of our beautiful son, please help those that do not understand, come to the realization that addiction is a disease and NOT a choice. I believe more people will reach out for help early on rather than trying to hide their disease from family and friends. Please help End the Stigma.'

When I think of retirement, I often think of people moving to Florida or perhaps helping out by spending extra time caring for grandchildren. However, that is not how today's guest, Jim, spends his retirement. When Jim retired, he started working part-time at a local funeral home helping newly bereaved parents navigate through the worst time of their lives. When Jim's 16-year-old daughter. Kaitlyn, died suddenly while at tennis practice, he felt completely lost. He and his wife went to the hospital and were told by the staff to take as much time as they needed with their daughter. They were offered a lock of her hair to take home with them as a keepsake. They were then left alone with no idea what to do. They spent some time with Kaitlyn and then went home. The next day, Jim's wife made the painful call to school that Kaitlyn would not be going to school that day or ever again, for that matter. Jim had to call a funeral home to arrange for someone to take her daughter's body after the autopsy. Jim initially fell into a deep depression. He actually became suicidal, but eventually found his way back to living. He found a great counselor and then a great support group for parents whose children had died through a local hospice. He turned his life around and found purpose again. He started attending the support group faithfully and then helped lead it, but he often thought back to those first hours and days when he and his wife had no one to help guide them. This is what drew him to his position at the funeral home. He is now the guide that he needed six years ago. He is the person helping families make those early decisions and helps answer the question, “What do we do now?” He quickly leads grieving parents to the support group that took him much longer to find. Jim gives these parents so much, but it helps him as well. Every time Jim helps a family in this way, he feels Kaitlyn close by. He feels her presence and that gives him hope and healing as well. To read Jim's blog, visit journeyfromdespairtohope.com

It has been less than 5 months since Brittany's sweet 12-year-old daughter, Madyson, died unexpectedly from myocarditis, but Brittany has already become an inspiration to other bereaved moms. In the days and weeks after Madyson's death, Brittany felt devastated and alone. She stayed in bed all day. She struggled to even be able to eat. She asked God why He hadn't taken her with her daughter. Brittany said that her faith wavered. One day, in the midst of her despair, she asked God to give her a sign. Brittany walked into her daughter's room and pulled out Madyson's notebook. Brittany thought she had read everything in that notebook just days before, but as she leafed through the notebook, she turned to a paper that Madyson had written 9 months before that looked unfamiliar. The writing is as follows: 'Why to Love Yourself'  The reason you should love yourself is because God didn't put you on this earth without a purpose and to find that purpose, you gotta get up. You gotta get out the house and on your feet. God didn't bless you to stay in bed and worry about your fears. So get up! Get up! Treat yourself. Go out. Be free because I promise you, today may be your weakness, but tomorrow going to be your power. Reading those words from Madyson changed something for Brittany. Yes, she still struggles in her deep grief, but reading her daughter's words to ‘Get Up!' challenged Brittany to do just that. Now some days, getting up out of the bed may be all that she can do, but even that is enough to celebrate. On other days, Brittany will write a post on social media that inspires someone else to get up out of bed as well. That is an amazing win.  Even as we struggle and feel completely broken, we can still in our own little way help one another. Those words from Madyson can help us all in our grief. We do have a purpose. Even in our grief, we have a purpose, but in order to find that purpose, we need to get up. Brittany keeps Madyson's words in a frame so she can read them every day. Perhaps, we all should do that as well.

When Gwen and I were deciding what to name this week's episode, Gwen's title was 'Taking a Pause Before the Claus comes to Town: Last minute tips to survive the holiday.' I chuckled at the title's length and changed it to 'Last Minute Christmas Tips.' It turned out, however, Gwen was right, maybe not about the length of the title, but about needing to put the word ‘pause' into the title. This turns out to be key for more than one reason. First of all, we do need to pause before heading out to family gatherings this holiday season. We talk and plan and figure out what we can and can't do. We make backup plans and even escape plans to implement if things get too overwhelming, but an equally important piece that can be easy to overlook is to take a minute to pause. Before rushing out of the house, take some time for yourself. Take some deep breaths. Just be present in the moment. Take a break from the busyness. Pause. That brings me to the second reason that putting the word ‘pause' in the title this week is perfect. When I hear Gwen talk about taking a minute to pause, the words that jump into my mind are ‘be still.' Whenever Andy was feeling anxious about anything in life big or small, I would remind him to breathe and ‘be still.' His Bible verse that he truly clung to was Psalm 46:10 - Be still and know that I am God. Reciting those words during anxious moments would put his mind in a better place. This week at the Grand Rapids Choir of Men and Boys annual Lessons and Carols concert, a song written by guest conductor, Richard Webster, in memory of Andy, debuted. The title was ‘Be Still and Know that I am God.' It was the most painful and beautiful and meaningful song I have ever heard in my life. A gorgeous piece of music was written to honor my boy that reminds choirs all over the world to take a minute to pause and to be still. So today, in the midst of the holiday bustle, I say to all of you the words that I said to Andy so many times, “Be Still.” *Listen to the end to hear the song. Go to andysmom.com/171 to see a video of the song. Go to the Grand Rapids Choir of Men and Boys Webpage to hear the full concert (grcmb.org)

Today's guest, Arava, reminded me of something that I think all of us know instinctually. Each person's life is really made up of a collection of stories. When we think about any person whom we know and love and want to describe that person to someone else, we start telling stories about them. We don't just say, ‘my son was kind or my son was funny.' We tell a story that shows their caring nature or demonstrates their humor. When Arava's 29-year-old son, Garett, suddenly died of an aneurysm, she turned to stories right away in her healing. Her sister, who is a rabbi, officiated at Garett's memorial service and asked all those in attendance to share stories with the family. We cannot truly make new memories after our child dies, but if others tell us new stories, we can almost get a new memory. Stories started coming to Arava as the family sat shiva in the first days after Garett's death. Now, one and a half years later, the stories come less often, but they still come. As each one comes, Arava takes time to write it down and is now compiling a book of stories to be shared with family and friends. The family also started a foundation in Garett's memory to keep his story alive (ghfg.org). Arava really made me think about the power of storytelling. I guess that is truly why I do the podcast each week. I want to give parents a chance to tell stories. I want everyone to get to know that parent's child a little bit. I want them to be appreciated and even a little loved by someone who might live on the other side of the world. These stories that we share with each other bring us closer together and even closer to our children. As Arava says this week, “Stories bring me such comfort. I feel like I have him back for a minute.” I want us all to feel like we have them back, even if it's just for a minute.

Faith and grief are often hard for many people to feel at the same time, especially when people are from a Christian background. Christians grow up learning that God has a plan for the world and that God's Plan is inherently good. We are taught that challenges are placed into our lives in order to help our faith and build us into better people. After the death of a child, those statements that we all accepted are a bit harder to take. I'm not saying that they are not still true, but they are more difficult to accept. We struggle when we don't like God's Plan. We feel guilt that perhaps we aren't good Christians if we are feeling our grief deeply and showing our emotions to the world. Even worse, family and friends often put pressure on us. They encourage us to trust God's Plan. They are uncomfortable seeing us actively grieve. They get worried that our faith is somehow not strong enough if we show too much emotion. This is why I absolutely love today's guest, Derek. I can honestly say that I have never spoken to anyone who can cling to God and truly feel the depth of their own personal grief at the exact same moment, as well as Derek. Speaking with him brought me to tears more than once and inspired me in my own faith. He reminds me that God is OK with me feeling my grief. He is patient and does not demand that we push aside our grief in order to show we have faith. We can, and should, hold grief and faith together. Derek is an amazing example of how this can be done well. I hope and pray that I can become a little more like Derek each day.

I have often heard people being encouraged to be ‘thankful givers.' It is supposed to inspire us to either give with a thankful heart or be thankful for a giving heart or something along those lines. When we are grieving, however, there is a new almost unimaginable challenge. Now, we are asked to be thankful with a grieving heart or grieve with a thankful heart. How is that even possible? On this week's podcast released on Thanksgiving Day in the US, Gwen and I really look at what it is like to be thankful during grief. From the outside, it may seem impossible, but it is not. It just can look very different than it used to look. At first, we may only be thankful for a few small things - a ray of sunshine, a hot bath, or an encouraging word from a friend. If that is all that your grieving heart can be thankful for, that can be enough. I loved recording this Livestream episode because so many listeners commented and wrote in ahead of time. What really struck me was what really seemed to rise to the top of the thankfulness list is that we are thankful for each other. When I pour myself into you, you, in turn, pour yourself right back into me, and we both feel a little bit better. This brings me back to that original phrase of being a ‘thankful giver.' I think we are all at our best when we work together as thankful, giving grievers or grieving, thankful givers or even giving, thankful grievers. It doesn't really matter what order the words are in. What matters is that they are all there. We grieve better in community, and I know that this year, I am so incredibly thankful for my not-so-little community of grievers.  Thank you.

Elizabeth Abaray shares the story of losing her beloved baby girl, Delia Grace, and the unfathomable sorrow of losing a child. She talks about how when we allow God to change us through our suffering, we become more of who God created us to be. Elizabeth explores the importance of walking with one another and using our pain for the greater glory of God. Elizabeth has written a children's book "Hugs for You, Kisses for You." It is a resource for children ages seven and under to support them during times of loss and to help them to know that nothing--not even death--can separate us from those we love.

Our kids should be here. It is simply wrong that they are gone before us. It just is. Nothing that we do or say can make sense of the senseless tragedy of the deaths of our children. When Stef's 16-year-old son, Alex, died suddenly by suicide, her world was shattered. Their community was in shock. They were ‘The Kummer Family' - the family who had everything together. They were a family that inspired jealousy in others. Alex was a brilliant, straight-A student who made everyone around him feel special and valued. The Kummers went to church regularly and did family outings together. Certainly, suicide couldn't enter this family - other families, sure, but not this family.  But just over a year ago now, the unthinkable did happen. Suicide did enter the Kummer Family and stole away Stef's son, Alex. He got in trouble for something that, although relatively minor, became big in his mind. At that moment, his adolescent brain decided that his family would be better off without him. Alex, the kid who never hurt anyone and was the best friend of everyone, took his own life, devastating all who care for him. Now Stef's mission in life is to spread the word that no family is immune to suicide. She talks at churches and to other groups sharing Alex's story. She ends each email that she writes with the phrase, ‘the world is better with you in it.' Stef wants all parents to openly talk with their children about what to do when suicidal thoughts come, encouraging improved communication among families. Hopefully, by starting these conversations at home, fewer families will have to suffer through the tragedy of losing a child.

Today's guest, Melo, knows that her life changed in a moment 11 years ago when her infant daughter, Chloe, died. With that death, her life was split in two - the time before Chloe and her new life ‘After Chloe'. After Chloe died, Melo really threw herself into being her mother's full-time caregiver, but after she died as well, she found herself in the depths of grief.  Melo was in a deep, dark pit that seemed to have no way out. She struggled to even get out of bed each day. She gained 80 pounds. She even separated from her husband. People likely judged her from the outside, thinking she wasn't trying to help herself heal, but that is far from the truth. Melo sought the help of 14 different therapists for her grief starting shortly after losing Chloe. With a background in psychology herself, she quickly learned that many therapists simply do not know how to help people grieve. As Melo ever so slowly began to heal, she found herself drawn to help others in their grief. Eleven years ago, there were few resources for grief. Melo wanted to make sure that other bereaved people, especially bereaved parents, did not feel as alone as she had felt. Four years after Chloe died, a friend challenged her, saying, “what do you want to do with all that you know now?” She did not know the answer to the question immediately and told her friend just that. “I don't know what to do,” she said, “all I know is that it will be called After Chloe because that is what my life is right now - After Chloe.” Now, seven years later, After Chloe (afterchloe.com) has become something so much bigger than Chloe and Melo themselves. After Chloe has become a community of grievers supporting each other. Melo shares her personal story with her over 16,000 Instagram followers helping them feel less alone. She sponsors a summit in December focusing on grieving during the holidays. Melo works to spread the message that everyone grieves in their own way, and not only is that OK, but it is actually good.

Those of you who follow me on Instagram and Facebook know that I have been posting video clips of my interviews over the past several months. I usually pick out three or four short highlights that I think others might appreciate. This week was so difficult for me because I kept finding clip after clip that I wanted to share. On my initial listen, I come up with no fewer than seven clips that I somehow had to pare down to four. This should give all of you a little glimpse as to how much wisdom today's guest, Tiersa, has to offer. Tiersa lost her daughter, Savannah almost 5 years ago now under somewhat mysterious, some might even say suspicious, circumstances. Tragically, she will never really know how Savannah died as the investigation did not lead to concrete answers. You might think that this would have led Tiersa to be bitter, but nothing could be further from the truth. The compassion that she shows to others, despite her own pain, is truly inspiring to me.  Tiersa talks about wanting to live her life in a loving way toward everyone around her. She has done training for preschool teachers for many years and remembers discussing the term ‘first responders' with them. She would remind the teachers that these medical professionals are first responders and not first reactors. She would urge them to remember to respond to young children and not just react.  This is the approach that Tiersa is trying to take both in her own grief and in helping her children grieve the death of their precious sister. When doing something so difficult like grieving as a family, It is easy to react instantly with your emotions. It is better, however, if you can take a minute to gather yourself, truly listen to those around you and respond in a loving way instead.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, we all heard it said that everyone was grieving something. Millions of people worldwide lost loved ones to disease certainly, but many talked about grieving the loss of jobs, vacations, time with friends, graduations, and even things like the prom. They were all placed in this big bucket of ‘things we lost' during the pandemic and reasons that we were all grieving in our own way. Although to a certain extent, this is true, it is far too simple to just throw every loss into one bucket and treat all of these losses the same. Today's guest, Dixie reminds us that when we label these losses as ‘grief,' we really water down the definition. Having to quarantine from friends and family is certainly sad, but it should not be considered equivalent to suffering through the death of a loved one. When we do that, we diminish just how devastating it is to grieve a death loss, especially an out-of-order death loss such as the death of a child. Dixie's son, Parker, was in perfect health in the spring of 2019. He had transferred to a new college to further his baseball career. He was the starting shortstop on his new team and was proud to introduce his parents to his teammates between a pair of games the weekend before he passed away. On the day he died, Parker cleaned his room, laid out clean clothes for the afternoon, and even crossed off the day on the calendar. During practice, he was running sprints with the team. Suddenly, Parker collapsed on the ground. This fit, athletic kid, died from a sudden cardiac arrest. No reason has ever been found. Dixie has been grieving the loss of her sweet son ever since that tragic day. Every day is a challenge. The grief is so incredibly deep that she is changed to her very core. This is true for all grieving parents. We will never be the same people who we were before our children died. Other types of loss simply can't compare and it is important not to let ourselves fall into society's trap of thinking that every loss is the same. When we do so, we will cause grieving people to isolate themselves even more, and that does not help anyone.

For a minute, I want you to picture that we are traveling along our grief journey on a large tricycle with three equal-sized wheels. These three wheels represent our emotional self, our physical self, and our spiritual self. During grief, some people make the mistake of focusing on only one of the wheels when all are equally important.  Non-grieving Christians often put pressure on the grieving person to put all of their air in the spiritual wheel. They encourage us to pray more. They remind us that everything is part of God's plan and that God is in control of everything. They tell us that they are praying for us constantly. We, as grievers, may feel guilty if these phrases don't give us peace. We may start to feel like we are grieving in the wrong way. We feel that we'd better keep putting more and more air into that spiritual tire. We may even think that if we get enough air in that one, we won't even need the other tires at all. Unfortunately, most of us can't ride a unicycle. You may find that rare person who seems to only need one wheel and will be able to ride around on that spiritual unicycle with ease, but most of us need the whole tricycle with all three wheels equally filled. Today's episode is a reminder that although faith and spirituality are key parts of our healing process, they are not everything, and it is not helpful when we pressure ourselves to think that they are. In addition to that, my faith journey does not need to be smooth and steady. Oftentimes, it is really quite messy. When I envision God holding my hand as I am grieving, I usually think of myself as a weak and sad young child, looking up to my loving Parent to give me strength and support. Sometimes, though, I am not so easily led down the road. Sometimes, I am a screaming, whining toddler, and although I may be angry and pulling away, God, like any good parent, still doesn't let go of my hand.

When today's guest, Jane, reminded me of the great children's story, ‘We're Going on a Bear Hunt' by Michael Rosen, it made me smile. It is a wonderful book that has been made into a nursery rhyme that I loved to do with my kids. If you remember the rhyme, it starts with clapping and giving a call and response, ‘We're going on a bear hunt. Going to catch a big one. I'm not scared.' Then as the story progresses, we come across different obstacles on our bear hunt. With each obstacle, we talk about trying to go around it or over it, but ultimately, we always have to go through it. Grief is exactly like that. Even though I would love to be able to go around it or over it, we must go through it. When Jane and her husband, Jimmy, met in film school, they never would have imagined what films they would be making years later. In fact, Jane likely did not think that she would be making films at all as she went on to become a therapist. But then the unimaginable happened when their son Josh was killed in an accident while traveling in Vietnam. As a part of their own personal healing journey, they made their first film together, a film borne out of love for Josh.   Jane and Jimmy likely thought originally that they would only make that one film, but something almost magical happened. They witnessed first-hand the power of storytelling and what it can do for grieving people. They now have a charity in the UK called The Good Grief Project. Through the charity, they have continued to make films as well as host support groups for bereaved people. Two of their newest projects are simply amazing. Their latest film entitled, ‘A Love That Never Dies' chronicles their journey across the United States speaking to bereaved parents and sharing their stories. This film is available to watch on Amazon both in the UK and in the US. It is a film not about death, but about love and healing. In addition to the film, Jane and Jimmy are releasing a book, ‘When Words Are Not Enough' which can be ordered through their website or also through their book publisher. When I think back once again to that ‘We're Going on a Bear Hunt' nursery rhyme, I realize how much we can apply that to our grief journeys. Going on a bear hunt by myself would be terrifying, but in the nursery rhyme, we say, “I'm not scared.” What keeps us from being scared is the fact that we are going on that hunt together in community. We have films and books. We have podcasts. We have other bereaved parents. We can help each other go ‘through it' together.

Jenny's son, Sam, was a kid who lived in the moment. He loved life, and he enjoyed every second of it. Even as he was dying from a brain tumor, Sam continued to love life and live big. As others approached the family with apprehension or avoided them entirely, Sam still smiled and jumped and played. Even when he couldn't jump and play anymore, he still enjoyed lying on his mother's lap, and just spending time with his dear family. He still loved at 100%. He didn't live as others expected him to live. Today, his mom is on a quest. Just as Sam did not ‘fit that narrative' as to what a kid with a brain tumor was ‘supposed' to look like, Jenny doesn't want society to dictate how she and other grieving parents should live.  She says that sometimes she wishes that she had a ‘feeling machine' that she could hook people up to for just a few moments so they could live in our shoes and feel what we feel. She certainly does not want others to experience child loss, but if they felt this way for just a few minutes, they would likely not judge us so much. There is definitely no time limit on grief. I know that I have gotten to the point where I hesitate to tell people that it has been 4 years since Andy died. If I am sad and having a horrible day really missing Andy, I don't tell people that it has been four years since his death. I have gotten to the point where I don't even want them to ask. I feel almost embarrassed that I am not ‘better' than this. I fear that they will judge me, labeling me as ‘not doing well.' Jenny's goal is not to change us or somehow help us to get through our grief quicker or easier. She wants us as grieving parents to unite together and teach society that grief is a normal part of loving and living. Grief is not something to be fixed. She has entitled her new organization, Maverick Grief. On her website, Jenny writes, ‘Grief is not a problem to be resolved. Grief is not a mental illness or an ailment to recover from and nor is it a linear condition that travels through an upward trajectory to a definitive end. To deny the human experience of grief is to deny the existence, depth, and worth of love. These two most powerful forces are the foundation of humanity. They co-exist and are at the epicentre of the human living condition. Grief IS love.' I couldn't agree more.  

Four years into my grief journey, I continue to witness how people grieve in vastly different ways. As grieving parents, you might think the grief would look much the same, but it does not. There may be some underlying similarities, but from the outside, it can look as different as night and day. Today's guest, Laurie, had worked as a therapist for many years before her son, Adam, died from an accidental drug overdose in college. You might think that she would know ‘all of the answers' about grief - that she would have been so in tune with her own emotions, that she would somehow find grieving to be ‘easier,' but that was not the case.  Laurie said that she actually found that she was completely numb after Adam died. She couldn't really feel her emotions, and she was unable to truly grieve. From the outside, Laurie certainly looked like she had it all together. She returned to work seeing patients only 10 days after Adam's death. I'm sure she continued to be a great therapist, helping many adolescents through their struggles, but internally, she remained frozen. Then, ever so slowly over many, many months, Laurie says that she began to ‘thaw'. She began to feel the pain more fully. She truly started to grieve. Now, from the outside, people may think that she wasn't grieving in the ‘right' way, but for her, it was perfect. That first year wasn't a waste; it just took that long for her brain to process her life to get to a point when grieving was possible.  That is an amazing lesson for all of us. Don't beat yourself up that you aren't grieving right. Don't let others judge your grief or judge others in their grief. The process is different for everyone, and what feels right for me may not work for you. Timing and feelings are different for each person.

As I listened to this week's episode, one word kept coming into my mind. Compassion. I initially thought of this word as it is a great way to describe Jam's daughter, Taylor. There aren't many 13 year old girls who would be described as compassionate, but I think that it describes Taylor perfectly. Her mom says that Taylor never met a stranger. She was quick to compliment people whom she barely knew. She adored her twin sister who is only severely autistic. Instead of sitting with friends at lunch or riding a regular bus to school, Taylor would happily join her sister and other special needs kids. Taylor's goal in life really was to make everyone feel loved and appreciated. Just over 4 months ago, Jam's life was turned upside down in a sudden, unexpected way. What started as a complaint of a red, swollen leg while at school one day quickly spiraled out of control. A blood clot in Taylor's leg became a blood lot in the lung, leading to further complications and eventually a brain bleed. In a short period of time, Jam's healthy daughter was gone, but this is where compassion enters the story once again. First of all, were Jam's ‘tribe' of friends. Jam worked as a labor and delivery nurse at the hospital and her friends and co-workers surrounded her with love throughout the entire ordeal. They were there throughout Taylor's brief illness, helping care for the family including Taylor's twin sister. After Taylor died, these same friends handled everything. Jam said that she and her husband just needed to show up. Their friends did it all. Jam even saw compassion in virtual strangers. They met another family while Taylor was in the Peds ICU. Despite only knowing the family a week, the young boy's dad went to Taylor's funeral. When his son later died, Jam's friends went to honor his son as well. The compassion continues to spread. Despite that fact that these last 4 months have easily been the hardest of Jam's life, she has learned more about true love and compassion than she ever expected. In listening to her today, I know that you will feel her light and compassion as well.