It’s now been two and a quater years since Richard died. It seems like it was just yesterday, and it feels like it’s been a lifetime.

After all this time, I still often feel like it’s not real… like Richard is still here. I often expect him to walk into the house, and just flash that sheepish grin when he sees our shocked expression. I just don’t feel like he’s really dead.

Then the tidal wave will wash over me. You know, that tsunami that just overwhelms you when you realize you’ll never see your kid again… at least on this earth. I think that’s my brain talking. My brain has processed Richard’s death and added that piece of data to all the rest it has stored away. And every so often, my brain has to assert itself and point out the facts as it knows them. Richard is dead, and I’m not going to see him again.

So why do I keep getting this feeling that’s not really true?

When we think about our feelings we most often talk about them coming from the heart. I know I find myself even clutching my chest when I think about these strong feelings. Like they’re coming from deep within. From my very core.

I wonder, is this where our soul is?

Is our soul at our core, at our heart?

I use the term soul because of my religious faith. But maybe that’s not what you call it. I’m talking about that spiritual part of us, the part that keeps on going when our body stops. The part of us we believe is eternal.

Does our soul know those other souls are out there, the ones that no longer are tied to a human body? Can it “feel” their presence even when we can’t see them? What does the soul know?

When I think of Richard, and wonder where he is, even speak out to him, I find myself looking to the sky – to the heavens. Most religions even call that place our souls go “Heaven”. Is that where he is now, out in the sky somewhere?

Or is he right here still, but just in another dimension – one our physical bodies can’t detect? Maybe Richard is here now, looking over my shoulder as I type.

We know of at best 4 dimensions: length, width, height and time. That’s all we can tell about with our limited bodies. But physicists believe there are many, many times more dimensions. I read a book called The Black Hole Wars that dealt with the battle of the physicists over these theories. It talked about string theory and it made my head hurt. But these guys are all pretty darn sure there are a bunch of dimensions.

Maybe one of those dimensions is where the spirit lives. Could be right here on earth, kind of a parallel universe. And maybe our souls know it’s there. It can’t communicate with it in any fashion we understand – except maybe for a few “sensitive” people. But still, our soul has some connection with that place.

And that’s why deep down inside we know our kids are still with us. Our brains don’t get it.

But our souls know.

Squadron Leader: “Attack Group 1 – “Red alert! I repeat, red alert! Form up on my tail, we’re making a frontal assault”

Purple Wing One: “Roger Squadron Leader. Purple Wing One forming on the right.”

Purple Wing Two: “Purple Wing Two forming on your left wing, over.”

Squadron Leader: “Attack Group 2 – form up on Purple Leader and attack from the rear. Come in low, then swoop high at ear level. Use caution around the grass discharge – it can wash you out.”

Purple Leader: “Ready for the rear attack Squadron Leader.”

Squadron Leader: “On my mark… Attack!”

This little scene has been playing out in my yard ever time I mow grass this summer.

I’ve been mowing the lawn here for nearly three decades now, and I never saw a purple martin before last year.

Last summer they would come out and attack me as I mowed down the hill in back of our house.

This year they’re everywhere. They still patrol out along the back yard, but they now also show up around the garden and out in the front by the old garage.

They do aerial maneuvers around me, often as many as 10 zipping past, in front and over me as I ride the lawn mower. They put on quite a show.

Sometimes there will be two or three flying in tight formation across my path, like the air show for Thunder Over Louisville. Or they might come right at me, pulling up at the last second, flashing that yellow underbelly in my face. They do crisscross flights all around me. One came right past my left ear the other day.

I have no idea where they came from – there are no martin houses anywhere close. They just showed up last summer.

I’m sure many would see this as a sign. Richard using these birds to say hi.

It could be. I don’t know. I’m not too good with this sign business. I think you need to have a strong connection to your right brain, the half that does all the artsy and emotional processing, to really grasp signs from the spirit world.

I sort of pushed that side of my brain into the back closet when I decided I was going to be an engineer. I only need that logical left side to do that stuff.

So I have no way of knowing if the purple martins are Richard saying “Hi dad.”

It’s a nice thought.

And the martins are entertaining.

When I got home from work the other night there was a big ol’ full moon in the midnight sky. Like I do most times the moon lights the sky, I stood there beside my car for several minutes just staring up at it.

Richard always liked the moon.

As I gazed up into the heavens I was thinking, “Richard are you up there?” In fact I even said it out loud.

Is heaven “out there”, out in space with the moon and the stars? Is Richard floating around out there somewhere?

Or is he still here on earth, but in some invisible dimension we mortals can’t see?

I passed many return trips from work listening to Leonard Susskind’s The Black Hole War on the car stereo. It made my head hurt. He talked about all manner of physics. Things like string theory. He claims there are a whole bunch of dimensions. He can’t really prove this in any concrete way, sort of how we can’t prove the existence of heaven. Yet all the data and calculations seem to say all these dimensions exist.

And another principal of physics he mentioned many times, because it is one of the core beliefs of physics… energy is never destroyed. It may change from one form to another, but energy is always conserved. It never goes away.

We are energy.

So it seems the belief that our souls live on is very possible. Physics doesn’t disprove it. We just convert to another form of energy. Move to another dimension.

That dimension could be right here on earth with us. Our kids could still be right here in the house with us, just living on another dimensional plane, out of our sight.

Or they could be out there in heaven.

Maybe on that big ol’ full moon.

Today is Sarah’s birthday. And yes, as the title says, she’s daddy’s little girl. My little princess. Always has been, always will be.

She was born the day after our first wedding anniversary. In fact, we spent our first anniversary at the hospital. Debbie’s water broke early that morning, so we spent the entire day at the hospital waiting… and waiting… and waiting.

Sarah refused to share her future birthday celebrations with our anniversary. So she didn’t come out until she could have a day of her own.

On her first day Sarah was giving the world the raspberries.

She’s been in command since day one.

Can She Really Be Relate To Me?

Sarah has always seemed to have a purpose. She’s known what she wanted to do and she planned her life to get to that goal.

On her very first day of life in the outside world she was telling us all about it. Her English left a bit to be desired, but she was just jabbering up a storm.

And giving the world the raspberries.

I’ve always had this feeling that someone with a much higher pay grade than me, had plans for my little girl.

Her focus and attention to details has always amazed me.

I’ve often wondered how someone with such mastery of the details could really be related to me. That’s just the complete opposite to my chaotic, helter-skelter approach to life. My grade school teachers told my parents I was the absent-minded professor. I’m guessing she must have gotten it from her momma.

Sarah’s Systems

When she was moving away from home for the first time, to start school at Belmont University in Nashville, her grab-the-details-by-the-horns, get it done personality was on full display.

Sarah had all her stuff neatly packed in identical boxes. Each was numbered. To round out this system, she had nice Excel spreadsheets to let her know just which numbered box to open to find what she was after at unpacking time.

During her recent move from Texas to South Carolina, she refined this system to include color coding of the boxes.

Our kids had to help with the household chores as they grew up with us. Sarah did the supper dishes. She’d get frustrated with Debbie and me when we’d take the dirty dishes from the table and just place them in any open spot on the countertop. She’d tell us we were, “Messing up my system!” Those dirty dishes had to be placed in just a certain spot on the counter, in the proper order.

Sharing Her Special Day

I’ve always been proud of “my favorite daughter.”

But I also worry about her.

All those years ago, when Debbie’s birthing parts were trying to squirt Sarah out into the world, she held on to Debbie’s insides with all her might, and refused to be ejected until she could have her own day. One she didn’t have to share with other family events.

I'm not sure which one did the makeup work here.

But that’s changed now.

On this day two years ago we had to call her with the news of her baby brother’s death.

That was one hell of a birthday present there Richard.

So now she’s always going to have that reminder on her birthday, that Richard is dead, and he won’t be eating anymore of her ice cream and cake.

A Natural Born Big Sister

Sarah took on the big sister role with total relish.

She was intent on showing her little brother the ways of life and leading him along the proper path.

At one point she tried to give him piano lessons. That turned out to be a frustrating experience for her. Richard wasn’t much of a sit still and practice kind of kid. I don’t remember him ever showing much interest in music.

We live “in the country.” There aren’t a lot of houses close by. As a result, Richard and Sarah were playmates.

They got along. Mostly.

Certainly Sarah’s more serious nature, and her often bossy big sister approach, clashed with Richard’s laid back, goof off and have fun attitude (I’ve never doubted that Richard was my kid).

It was pretty obvious that they loved one another.

They were also classmates. Both Richard and Sarah were homeschooled until they got to high school.

After Sarah reached driving age and got her license, she got to pick up the chore of taking her little brother to school and picking him up after classes every day.

Typical Siblings

In their teen years they were typical siblings. They loved one another, but also fought like cats and dogs at times.

Richard was a guy.

Can you tell they're brother and sister?

He went to an all male high school. He played sports. Guys like to tease their friends. Make fun of them, and try to have a good laugh at their expense. The trick is to not let it bother you. Just turn it around and tease back. It’s a give and take, back and forth way to have some fun and, while it often sounds mean spirited to many – mostly females – it’s how guys bond.

And Richard liked to tease his big sister.

Sarah would always try to play the game. She’d tease back at Richard. But Richard was a pro. He always had a comeback. And as the back and forth pokes progressed Sarah would end up getting her feelings hurt. And she’d get mad.

This would usually end with Sarah stomping up the stairs, the slamming of her bedroom door providing the final exclamation point on the argument.

Yet they loved one another.

I know Richard looked up to his big sis. I think he admired her. She was a tough act to follow. But he didn’t want to let her know this.

That would have changed with time. It was beginning to change already. But time ran out.

Does she now feel bad about these teenage sibling battles with her little brother? I don’t know. We don’t talk about it. I don’t really know how to bring up the subject of her brother’s death, and how she’s dealing with it. Some of the books I’ve read have had accounts from siblings of a lost child. Many of them felt guilty about the arguments they’d had.

I hope Sarah doesn’t feel that way. That’s just typical sibling behavior. She loved him and he loved her. Besides, Richard started most of it. He did like to aggravate.

Celebration or Sadness?

This has been an important day in our family for many years now.

Sarah’s birth brought great changes for me. There was now another person, in another generation, that shared my genetic code. Wow.

I got to experience that complete and total acceptance and love that a child has for their parents.

My little girl took care of her daddy. Always available to put a band-aid on my cuts and scrapes, or to rub lotion on my feet when they were cracked and sore. She also provided a nicely itemized bill of services when my treatment was complete – very professional.

She’s made me a better person. She’s a gift from God. Her birthday is a big deal for me. It’s a day for celebration.

Now this date is also connected to the toughest thing I’ve ever had to deal with. This date is blasted into the granite marker at Richard’s grave.

So I have a choice to make. Will this day be a time to celebrate my wonderful daughter, or will it be a time to mourn an unbearable loss?

We didn’t ask for this situation. It was just thrust on us. How we deal with it is a choice.

I’m intending to celebrate this day every year. We still have a life to live. I’m still grateful for the gift Sarah has been and continues to be. Letting sadness cloud that would be another tragedy.  Yep, it will be a challenge at times. But Richard’s death doesn’t change my love for Sarah. I owe it to her to honor her importance in my life.

I’ll never forget what’s been lost, but I still have a lot.

Happy Birthday sweet daughter. I love you.

Today Debbie and I have been married 28 years.

I’ve now been married for half my life. No question, the married half has been better than the single half.

I remember standing up there at the front of church, waiting for Debbie to make the trip down the aisle. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I was wrong. My knees were shaking. It may have been the most nervous I’ve been in my life… either half.

I also remember those words, “For Better or for worse.” And that’s how it’s been.

Mostly it’s been for better.

But there have been the “for worse” times too. Richard’s death tops that list by a wide margin. I think having one another is how we’ve made it through this so far.

This is also another anniversary of sorts. On this day two years ago, we had the last truly, completely happy day of our lives. The next day we found out Richard was dead.

That’s how it is now, I mark time by “before Richard died” and “after Richard died.”

And I hate that.

This day is one of the best of my life. Conning Debbie into marrying me was the best thing I’ve ever done. She’s been a blessing every day since.

So I don’t want this day associated with pain. This is a day I’ll always be grateful for and I’m going to keep that way.

And for all you single parents that are dealing with child loss, all I can say is, “Wow, I’m so sorry.” That has to be so very tough to do. I can’t imagine not having Debbie to face this with. Having someone to lean on helps, but it still takes my breath away at times. Having to go this path on my own, alone, would just be unbearable.

There’s been a lot in the news lately about high profile guys screwing up their marriage.  Very sad.

Author Michael Hyatt has a blog post about protecting your marriage. It’s a good idea. You never know when your marriage may become your only ancor in a world gone out of control. He also explains how to become your spouse’s best friend.

The NCAA men’s basketball tournament will always bring back memories of Richard.

The early rounds are played all over the country. There are a lot of games. The last games of each round get late starts, so it’s not unusual for one or two to still be in action when I get home from work after midnight.

Debbie and Sarah would be in bed. The only light in the house would be coming from the TV set. And there in front of the set, Richard would be sitting cross-legged on the floor, with his NCAA brackets beside him. I think he watched every game. He’d make updates to his brackets as each game ended.

We’d watch the remaining games together and he’d update me on what I’d missed.

UK Returns to the Final Four

My favorite team is the University of Kentucky Wildcats. Richard always claimed to be a University of Louisville fan, or Loserville as we like to call them around here. They are UK’s only in-state rival. Richard said he was a UL fan, but he always paid more attention to the Cats than the Cards. He liked to aggravate his uncle Stuart and his grandpa – and his dad. So he claimed to be a big fan of our rival. We had a lot of fun debating about our teams.

But I always knew he was a secret UK fan.

UK has always been a basketball power. The Cats have won more games than any other team in college basketball. Many banners hang from the rafters of Rupp Arena – from SEC championship banners to national championship banners. .

But the last few years have been lean for the Wildcats. Making the Final Four, the measure of success in college basketball, has evaded them for more than a decade.

This year looked like another of those seasons with no Final Four appearance for UK. They couldn’t win anything away from home. But as the end of the season wound down, this team began to win those close games they lost earlier in the year. Even though they got the hardest draw of any of the upper seeds in the tournament, they kept on winning. They beat Ohio State, the team all the analysts pegged as the best of the best.

And they made it to the Final Four.

I was starting to think there might be some help from above, you know what I mean?

The Final Four games were played in Houston, TX this year.

Sarah’s message.

After the end of Kentucky’s game with North Carolina, where UK earned a spot in the final four, I got a call from Sarah.

“Hey dad, want to come down to Texas and go to the Final Four? It would be a good daddy-daughter bonding experience.”

She lives in Texas. “You wouldn’t even have to get a hotel room. You could stay in my apartment and we could drive to Houston.”

I told her, “I’ll think about it.”

I went online and started checking on plane tickets. Wow! There were only a few flights left, and round trip would be more than $700. Plus the price for game tickets. And in no time those few remaining flights filled up.

There were some packages being offered locally  - air fare, hotel and tickets. The very cheapest I heard about was $1600 each. Most were over $2000.

Way too much money to spend for a weekend’s entertainment.

What Would You Pay?

Yeah, that was a bunch of money.

But what if somehow Richard could come back and go to those games with me. What would I pay for that?

What would you pay for another weekend with your dead kid?

$2000 would be cheap. My savings account would be sucking air in a flash.

I’d pay that money, and more, to get that chance.

Shouldn’t the Living Be As Valuable As the Dead?

And the idea hit me.

Isn’t Sarah as important to me as Richard was? Shouldn’t I place as much value on time with her – time I can actually have?

The answer to those questions is… Yes!

I love my daughter. Yes, I also loved Richard, and I miss him every single day. But he’s gone.

So shouldn’t we all place our value on loving those people that are still riding this planet with us? Value every moment we can with them?

I think so.

We’ve been shown -in the clearest terms possible – there is no guarantee of anything beyond the present. Maybe that’s a gift, even though it’s a really hard lesson to learn.

Life IS For the Living

We’re still here. We still have to live this life we have.

So I decided to spend that money and make that trip. To have that daddy-daughter bonding moment.

But my employer said no. I couldn’t get off work. We have to live this life, and we still have to deal with the limitations put before us.

But I plan to direct my energy more toward living THIS life.

I’ll always miss my kid. That will never change. I loved having him here, and being his dad. There will be a hole in my soul from now on.

I can’t change that.

But we all need to learn the lessons this has taught us about living and loving now.

It was the Sunday before the SuperBowl. This was a Sunday with no football. Yeah, there was the Pro Bowl but come on, really, that’s not football. I didn’t want to watch that. What to do?

The USA Network came to the rescue. They ran a 12 hour NCIS marathon. Starting with the very first episode, one I was sure I’d never seen, at 11 AM and running till 11 PM.

Debbie and I watched the entire thing from start to finish.

We decided we didn’t want to go out and deal with anyone that day. We just wanted to hunker down together and not face the world.

The Archdiocese of Louisville has Mass On The Air every Sunday at 10:30 AM. We decided to go to church on TV.

This turned out to be much like going to church at church. Mass On The Air has a rotating cast of characters; the priest, deacon, choir and participants from several local churches tape the shows ahead of time for airing on Sunday mornings. They usually tape two Masses back-to-back on Wednesday evening. As luck would have it our priest and parishioners were the ones on TV this particular Sunday.

So we watched Mass on TV with Father Bill. My little sister Ann was even singing in the choir.

At the end of the televised Mass we switched to the NCIS marathon on USA.

I’m not sure why we still watch this show. Autopsies are a regular part of the show. It gets a bit, shall we say… uncomfortable, watching these scenes. I can’t help thinking, “They did that to my kid.” I don’t like the thought. But still we watch the show every week and we usually have on any marathons that get aired on the weekend.

I think the show brings back nice memories for Debbie. While Richard was still in high school and living at home, they used to watch NCIS together.

So we just spent the day… all of the day… sitting together on the couch watching TV.

The truth is I’d like to spend every day like that. It’s really tiring going out into the world, putting on the game face and acting like the world isn’t spinning off it’s axis.

It was a nice day.

The blog Zen Habits is one of the most popular on the Internet. The following post is an adaptation of a post called A Guide to Reaching Life’s Summits. I thought many of the points and tips in the Zen Habits post apply to the grieving parent’s journey up the mountain of pain we all face each day. The italicized block quotes are from the Zen Habits article, and my grieving parent version is below it.

Pack light.

I wish I took this more seriously. Every unnecessary piece of gear complicates things and detracts from the experience. Aside from the bare necessities, things do not make life better. They often cause more stress and keep you from what’s most important. The lighter your pack the better. Life is too short to be burdened with excessive possessions, emotional baggage or regrets. Positive thoughts, relationships and experiences weigh nothing at all. Pile them on and leave the rest behind. They’ll lift you to the top.

Grieving parents are left with emotional bags to carry on their journey up the grief mountain. So many “should have done this – if only I’d have done that” kind of questions we have. Why did this happen and why didn’t we see it coming and stop it? These emotions don’t help. They create stress. You have to let them go. The truth is we don’t control this life on earth. The ultimate outcome is not in your hands. You have to forgive yourself before you can heal. Lighten up.

Take one step at a time.

Any major accomplishment can be broken down into a series of single steps. My pattern for the mountain was 15 steps up, 15 breaths of rest. I did that for 7 hours. If I would have only focused on the very top, frustration would have overcome me. If your summit is too intimidating, break it into smaller steps. Focus on those one by one. Eventually one step will be the one that puts you on top.

In our computer-based rush around world, we expect results to happen fast – often in just an instant. This is not a trip to the corner store. It’s a journey. A long arduous climb up a mountain. It will take years, and we’ll probably never get to the top of the mountain. Give yourself permission to grieve, to be sad, to accept life has changed and can’t be changed back. One day at a time. One hour at a time.

Don’t go at it alone.

When climbing, a partner is a must. For safety, support, camaraderie, motivation and simply to share the journey. You’d be silly (and putting yourself in great danger) to go up alone. Life is meant to be experienced with others. It makes the valleys shallower and the peaks higher. Relationships magnify experiences and help you do things that prove impossible alone. Don’t leave home without your support team.

Find some help. You need someone to talk to. We’ve found The Compassionate Friends to be a great resource. TCF is made up of other bereaved parents. They’re on the same journey. Some of them have been climbing this mountain for decades. Others are just starting out. They know how you feel and what you’re going through.  Hospice is another good organization that helps the grieving parent. Maybe you have a good church and can get help there. Maybe you need one-on-one care and need to find a professional. Just don’t try to go it alone.

Listen to the experts.

Halfway up, a passing guide told us if we couldn’t get to the top by 12:30 at the latest, then to turn back. Chances of late day thunderstorms were too great. As amateurs we would have had no idea. While we all ought to experience our own paths, it’s foolish not to learn from and observe the guidance of experts. Choose your life models wisely and keep them close by on your journey.

Once again TCF is a good resource. There are also many helpful books.

Slow down.

As Yvon Chouinard of Patagonia says, “It’s about how you got there. Not what you’ve accomplished.” Despite what colleagues and competitors may tell you, there is no rush. Rushing on the mountain risks slipping, not acclimating to thinning air, exhaustion and possibly death. In life the biggest risk is that you miss the wonders of everyday experiences in your pursuit to the top. The top is secondary to the process.

The grieving parents world is a swirling fog of confusion and pain. Slow down. Breath. Take time for quite time. Time to just think and center yourself. A time to find yourself again. This is a marathon not a 40 yard dash. Slow and steady is the best pace.

Look back and take in the view.

There’s never any guarantee that you’ll get to the top, but you always have the ability to stop, take in a deep breath, smile and enjoy the view-whether it’s miles of wilderness or two feet of fog. It’s all wonderful. Every moment of life is a new view to appreciate.

It helps to look back. Remember when the pain was so fresh and new? How you couldn’t get through a day without crying several times? – maybe constantly? Remember how you couldn’t laugh anymore? Then gradually the tears fell less and laughter came back. Maybe you felt guilty. But life does come back. It’s different now, and not better. But gradually it gets better. Look back occasionally and notice.

Save some energy for the trip down.

We thought the summit was “just over that peak” half a dozen times before it actually was. Conserve energy. Things will inevitably take longer than expected. Don’t be discouraged. Budget your capital, energy and drive appropriately. Rarely is anything in life an all out sprint. Treat it like a marathon. You may need your reserves when you least expect it.

It’s said, “A man must know his limits.” Grieving parents have to know their limits too. We all grieve differently. You have to find your way through this.

Maybe big family gatherings are too much for you at first. Skip a few. Maybe you no longer feel like doing all the Christmas decorating that you did when your child was still here. So don’t do it. Some people we know take trips at Christmas now.

You won’t “get over it” but you will learn to cope. Just remember you can’t do it all at once. Give yourself time. Take small steps.

Getting to the top is optional. Getting down is mandatory.

These are Ed Viesturs’ famous words; the first U.S. man to summit all 14 peaks above 8,000 meters with no bottled oxygen. The summit will be there tomorrow and likely so will yours. If more planning, a stronger team or more support is required, then save the summit for a time when the payout is safer and more probable. If you are outmatched, know when to turn back, only to return stronger and more savvy tomorrow. Stay objective and don’t let short-term excitement get in the way of long-term fulfillment.

Failure is a part of the process.

If we would have started our climb the week before, conditions would have been too grave to make it. Be ok with not reaching the summit every time. Falling short is inevitable. You will never learn more than from your failures…at anything. Embrace them.

A daunting summit is nothing more than a challenge. A challenge is simply an opportunity in disguise. You won’t summit every one you come across, but you will become a better person with each attempt.

There will always be another mountain. You are not meant to conquer them all. Past summits are simply preparing you for the next. With the right strategy, you’ll put the top within reach. When your summit arrives, you will be ready.

“It is not the mountains we conquer but ourselves.” ~Sir Edmund Hillary

Grieving isn’t pretty. There will be good days and bad. Lot’s of bad days. Feeling OK one day and completely down the next doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It’s OK to be sad, to miss your kid so bad you don’t think you can go on. You can go on. Live through the bad times, remember the good ones and keep taking one step forward.

Original article:
http://zenhabits.net/summit-mountains/

As my shift at work was winding down that Thursday evening, I was thinking about how I would spend the vacation time I had scheduled for the next day. I was taking off on Friday to have a long weekend. My wife Debbie and I were planning to celebrate our wedding anniversary over the weekend, though our actual anniversary date had been on Wednesday. Then I got ”the call.”

It was that call all parents fear most. The one from the coroner to tell me our youngest son Richard was dead.

Our lives changed forever in that instant.

Instead of celebrating our anniversary we planned a funeral and went shopping for a casket, flowers and a grave plot.

It’s now been over a year since Richard’s death. We spend a lot of time thinking back on those early days. It was all such a foggy blur. What helped us in that time? What helps now? What can you do for a grieving parent? Here are some of the things that cut through the fog and into my memory – things that made a difference.

Give Your Time

There is an amazing amount of planning and activity involved in having a funeral.  We had a memorial service the day before Richard’s funeral and the actual funeral service to plan.There are just so many details. Can you take on some of that work?

• Richard’s funeral was in church. There were a lot of readings and songs that we needed to pick for the service. My sister took on the music planning role for us. It was a relief to be able to just hand that off to her.
• One of the services offered by the funeral home we used was making a montage of pictures of Richard. This was a chance to show everyone at the memorial service Richard’s life in pictures. We had to supply the funeral home with 30 – 35 images to use. Our daughter Sarah,Hannah and Shelby two of Richard’s closest cousins, and his girl friend Ivy sat in our TV room floor going through albums and boxes of pictures. They went though hundreds of pictures. While they sorted photos they also told a lot of “Richard stories”. As hard as it is to imagine, they helped us smile, as we remembered how much fun he’d been.
• My siblings, nephew, and nieces showed up at our house with lawn mowers and other tools and went to work in our yard mowing grass. They also cut up some broken tree limbs from a recent storm. Truth is I didn’t care if the grass was knee high at that time. But they were doing anything they could just to let us know how much they cared about Richard and us. That will always mean a lot to us.

Give Your Talent

Putting your own talent and personality into your gift will help it stand out in someone’s memory.

• Gifts of food are welcome in those confusing and busy days following the death of a child. We got many, both at home and at the funeral home for the memorial service. Visitors at the memorial service were our guests a food gifts helped us feed them and make them comfortable. Of all the gifts of food, only one stands out in my mind now. Susan from our church is an artist. Rather than go to the local store and get an off the self fruit tray, she bought a large basket. She filled the basket with a large assortment of fruit, all arranged in a very striking design. It was a work of art. It was almost too pretty to eat – but it went quickly as soon as the first piece of fruit was taken from the basket.
• I don’t remember many details from Richard’s funeral Mass. In all the blur of pain and disbelief one thing made it past the fog. The choir sang the song “In His Time.” The service was on a Monday morning – a work day, yet there were more people in the choir section that we usually see on Sundays. The verses of the song were sung solo by Chris, a regular member of the choir and Susan, the wife of the choir director, not normally a part of the choir. Neither of these two had ever sung solo before. But they stepped out of their comfort zone to do something special for us. It was beautiful. Remembering this act of compassion still chokes me up today. Is there a talent you could share with someone grieving? Can you go beyond your normal limits to let someone know you care?

Memorials

Parents that have lost a child don’t want them forgotten. Memorial items are important.

• As a birthday gift for her mom, our daughter Sarah made what we call “The Richard Book.” This is a beautiful hard cover book with glossy pages of various Bible verses, remembrances and pictures of Richard. The text of the sermon Father Bill gave at Richard’s funeral and a letter I wrote for his memorial service were printed there. She spent a lot of time and thought picking the content and arranging it. She had the book made at Shutterfly.com, an online photo printing company. I’m sure other online companies offer custom made books too.
• A nice photo montage, printed and framed would also be a great item. We have a huge one that was made by Memory Lane Montages. They partnered with our funeral home and created a masterpiece montage in less than a day. We had to have a closed casket, so this was really helpful for us and let us show our visitors what our son was all about. You can order from their website, no funeral home needed.
• My coworker Eric called me off to the side one day at the plant. He handed me a big white box. Inside was an ornate Celtic cross (pictured above) that he had cut on the scroll saw. It was mounted on a plaque. On the back was a copy of the remembrance card from the funeral and Richard’s picture. It is hanging on the wall beside the big photo montage we had made.
• Several of my aunts and uncles got together and bought us a nice granite bench to place in the cemetery. It has the family name cut in the back. Richard’s grave is close to my mom’s grave. We also have plots there. The bench is under a tree next to our families graves. It’s a nice place to sit when visiting. I’ve sat there and had lunch with Richard. The name on the back is visible from the road, so it helps people find our family plots. It’s a gift that will last for generations.

Other Ideas

There are other things you can do that will mean a lot to a bereaved parent.

• Richard was a member of our church youth group all through high school. Kids from the group got together their “Richard stories” and pictures from some of their times together and put them into a notebook for us.
• Remember with them. The important life dates – birth date, death date – are really hard times for grieving parents. Can you remember these dates? Send a note letting the parents know you’re thinking about them. Maybe share something you remember about their kid. They’ll never forget their child, but it will give them comfort knowing you haven’t forgotten either and you still care. This website has ideas and suggestions on how to write a heartfelt card or note.
• Give them a call from time to time, let them know you’re thinking about them.

Grieving for a lost child is a very long and difficult journey. It will take years. Maybe the best help is to just be there to walk that path with them over time.

You may feel nothing you say or do can help. There isn’t anything you can do to take away the pain. But you can make dealing with the pain a little less tough. Something as simple as a hug and genuine “I’m so sorry”, maybe a shared tear really do make a difference.

I read many blogs that deal with Internet Marketing.  I find the subject interesting. One of my favorites is a blog called Psychotactics by Sean D’Sousa.

In his latest newsletter Sean wasn’t talking to grieving parents, but he could have been.

Imagine thirty thousand menacing obstacles in your path to success.
You’re dehydrated. Hungry as hell. And wobbling like an Irishman on
too much Guinness. Your eyes hurt, your head throbs and your will
is all but broken. You’re not even sure you want to go on.

Isn’t that how you’ve felt?

I’ve heard so many parents that have lost a child say they no longer want to go on… don’t want to live anymore. In those dark days after our kids died we just can’t see any way we can deal with it.

As in the character Frodo, in the final episode of the ‘Lord of the
Rings-The Return of the King.’

Terror and dismay gleam from Frodo’s big, expressive blue eyes. In
the distance, he can see his goal. But it seems to him like he’ll
never get there. He turns to Sam and says in a defeated tone, “Sam,
it’s the Eye,” referring to the eye of Sauron – the enemy he must
destroy.

And Sam turns to Frodo in a soft, encouraging voice and says,
“Let’s just get to the bottom of this hill, Mr.Frodo.”

And that’s how it is.

Just get to the bottom of this hill. Just face this day. Take one step at a time.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you get above the fog. The darkness lets in some light. The pain becomes less intense.

The journey isn’t an easy one. The monsters and obstacles will always be there. Face them as they come. One at a time. Take the next step.

Just get to the bottom of this hill.