Grief doesn't stop from 9-5

I don't often cross-post to the online magazine, Still Standing, which I have the honor of writing for to share our child loss journey.

But this post is important.  This post shares a part of our story I've never discussed before but it one  I know every child loss parent faces.

If you share any of my posts, my prayer would be that you would share this one.  This story needs to be in front of our legislatures and change must happen.

It brings me quite the opposite of joy when I think of another parent having to go through the ordeal I did when returning to work.  It's unnecessary pain in an already unimaginable situation.

Please share this story and also show your support here.

Joy through Darkness

This post is probably one of hundreds that will be written this week inspired by the shocking death and apparent suicide of Robin Williams.  I don't have any higher wisdom than anyone else but couldn't shake the need to say something.

When I heard the news last night, I was on my way to bed so we didn't talk much as a family about it.  There was just stunned silence in the room.  Hearing it on the radio this morning, the kids and I discussed it again on the way to school.

Noah said, "This is pretty much all we're going to hear about for a day or two, I think"

Because it is such a shock, I told him.
When you picture Robin Williams, you smile.

Robin Williams = happiness

He made so many laugh through the course of his life and it just saddens me to think of the pain he was hiding inside.  Often, it is those who bring light to others that are holding the darkest secrets.  Laughter is avoidance and it distracts from how you're really feeling.

I know because I've mastered it myself.  In this life I've been hit with many blows and yet I still stand.  The biggest, deepest, darkest of all those, of course, is losing Austin.  And time and again people comment about how strong I am, how they don't know how I manage...  But few rarely took the time to see how I really felt. Few know the true pain I've experienced.  Because few are allowed behind the veil.

Is it irony that my latest post, about losing friends amidst the pain of child loss, published today on Still Standing Magazine?  It's one of the darker pieces I've written and admit it felt like I was exposing myself -more than I'm comfortable with.  But it was truth and needed to be said.  I know others are facing this unexpected hurt during a time of greatest grief.  Maybe my post will bring awareness to one friend to reach out, even if the other party doesn't seem welcoming.

And that's really what all of this is about.  We must, as a society, remove the stigma that comes from depression.  People don't just get over things.  This world is hard.  Life is hard.  And every single one of us battles something.

In the course of your day, you probably come face to face with someone screaming on the inside for just one person to reach out.  For just one hug.  One REAL "how are you?" that truly wants an answer of more than one word.

I'm lucky.  I can't explain how I've made it through the fog, how I found joy through the darkness, other than to say that God took me by the hand and pulled me out.  In the same breath though, I know others who are just as strong in their faith and God wasn't enough.  Medicine or therapy was required.  And that's ok too.


If you're hurting....ask for help.  Reach out.  There IS someone who cares.
If you're healing...look for someone hurting.  Reach out.  There IS someone in need.

Let's love each other more.  Be kinder than necessary.  Spread JOY.

Dreams and Nightmares

For as long as I can remember, I've had a dream of being a writer.

Words have always spoken volumes to me.
And without much effort, they flow out of me.

When I was a little girl, I'm guessing around the age of six, I "made" my first book.  Cutting out cardboard pages and gluing them together, I bound the book that I would later fill with my own words.  I don't remember the story but I vividly recall the process.

And perhaps it was from that moment my passion for writing bloomed.

That dream has always included being published.  The online world made that a reality soon after I began blogging.  But I still desired to see my name in tangible print.  To have words come from my mind and end up in physical form.

It seems surreal that I will see not one but two published books this month.

Both are compilations, I'm honored to be a part of.  Both tell Austin's story.

When I gave birth to him nearly 20 years ago, I knew instantly he'd changed me forever.  My dreams became his.  My goal was his future.  Suddenly this tiny human was the center of my life...

Never would I have imagined he would help to ensure a dream of mine with the nightmare of his passing.

Bittersweet doesn't even begin to describe it.

While the little girl in me surely dreamed of a different topic for her first book, I am thankful for the opportunity to share Austin with the world.

Today is the second anniversary of Still Standing Magazine.  A website that gave me tremendous support when I found them at their launch.  A sisterhood that opened their broken hearts to help mine heal.  And a group I would later have the privilege of guest posting for, then most recently becoming a monthly contributor of.

This second edition book, Still Standing...Because They Lived, includes stories from many of the grieving writers who share their loss but also their hope.  Because they lived, we are still standing.  The link above will allow you to pre-order this beautiful collection today.

Some of you may recognize my own feet...and Austin's memorial tattoo, on the front cover.

Still Standing: Spring Showers

My monthly post for Still Standing Magazine was submitted earlier this week.  And, like always, nobody knew about the post prior to me sending.  Not even family because I like for them to have true reactions to whatever I've written.

My posts for Still Standing are raw, in the moment, or unedited reflections from my child loss journey. They do not always contain the joy I try hard to express on this blog, because through this walk in grief, joy has not always been present.

Having only been a monthly contributor for six months now, many aren't even aware I'm regularly writing for this publication.  This month, I write about spring and the memories of Austin the season brings.  A major focus of the story includes daffodils.

Monday, when I arrived home from work, these greeted me from the kitchen.

Picked by my mom and the kids.

And I couldn't help but feel a hug from above from Austin, too.

Go check out the full post here and see if you agree...