I too am motherless and I choose to honor and remember my Mom by talking about her, sharing stories and memories that warm my heart and for one special day I honor her in death as I would in life.  I look at the tree that was planted in her honor and see how many feet it has grown since her death and I suspect my mom in her infinite wisdom and love of the earth and all things in nature somehow aids in the growth process!

If you know someone who lost their Mom, or a mother who has lost a child this past year, take a moment to acknowledge their loss and share in remembering.  Let them know you too honor the memory with them, rather than letting the day pass with words unspoken because you think the pain is too great to talk remember because I assure you a kind gesture of acknowledge brings great comfort to those who grieve.

Yes, my mother was truly a gift for which I remain eternally grateful.

How do you honor and remember your Mother?  How do you honor yourself as the mother of a child who has passed? 

What is the best advice your mother ever gave you?  Please share your comments below

Share on Facebook

But there is a relief valve: Putting your thoughts on paper.

Journaling is a form of self-expression that comes with no rules, boundaries or expectations that anyone else will ever read what you write. But by getting those thoughts out of your head and onto paper, you open your mind to valuable insight and healing.

How journaling has helped me

When my daughter, Isabelle, passed away in 2007, I had gallons of guilt stored up inside of me. I shouldn’t have brought her to daycare that day. I shouldn’t have put her in that outfit. I should have told her I loved her one more time …

I let the guilt simmer up there for a day or two before I opened my notebook, cranked that valve wide open and let my feelings spill onto the blank pages. In the beginning, there were only words: “devastated,” “shattered,” “depressed,” and frequently the question, “Why?” But then came the sentences: “I feel like there’s an empty void inside me that will never be filled …” And eventually there were paragraphs.

As I scribbled on the pages, not caring about the legibility of my writing, I felt the pressure ease out of my head and felt the constraints loosen around my chest. I allowed myself the time I needed to feel sad or angry or lost without apologizing for those feelings. Instead, I encouraged them. Armed with my pen and paper, I had a newfound weapon to help me stand up against the loneliness of grief.

Time has passed – four-and-a-half years – and the sharp edges of loss have softened a bit for me, but I continue to write in a journal. Sometimes I incorporate photos or drawings into the pages when words are hard to find. My entries have changed as my journey has changed, but the benefits remain the same.

I often write before bed, taking 15 minutes or so to clear the clutter from my head. Other times I give myself a writing prompt to help me reach deeper into the moments I treasure the most.

Getting started

Finding a journal in which to record my thoughts is my favorite part. Barnes and Noble has an incredible selection, but a simple notebook will do the trick if you want to get started right away. The only rule is that you refrain from judging the words you choose to use. Write freely. This journal is for you, not for an audience.

Here are some ideas to get you started:

1. Write one word for the most prevalent emotion you feel right now, then write a brief paragraph describing the details of that emotion to someone who has never experienced it before.
2. Heaven’s Mailbox: Write a letter addressed to your beloved. You can write about your day, share a favorite memory about him or her, or tell your beloved the things you miss most.
3. Letter Poem – Write the letters of your beloved’s name vertically on your journal page, then write a word or sentence using that first letter.
4. Treasured Moment – Recall a treasured moment. Draw lines to divide your paper into five sections labeled “Hear,” “See,” “Smell,” “Taste” and “Feel.” Close your eyes and focus on one sense at a time. When you’re ready, write down words and sentences related to that sense.

Whether you’ve just experienced loss or you’re 10, 15, 20 or more years out, journaling can act as the relief valve to help release some of the burden that often weighs so heavily on your mind as you continue moving forward on your journey.

Amy Lyon lives in Prior Lake, Minnesota, with her husband Chad, son Wyatt and angel in Heaven Isabelle. She is a community newspaper editor and the author of “Beyond Belief: A memoir of death and rebirth,” to be released September 2012 from Chalice Press. www.amylyon.com

Share on Facebook

Jan LaPitz

From as early as I can remember my Dad’s mother brought up the subject of her child that only lived a few days after he was born.  That was my first encounter with death.   My grandma would recall vivid details of her child’s birth and his death as if it had happened recently.  I never took note of the date, or even the month when she started talking about him.  As I think about it now I probably should have.  As a little kid it was kind of creepy to have Grams talking about her dead baby.  As I got older I felt sad for her.  There didn’t seem to be any way to comfort her except to listen to her tell her story.  On the other hand no one else in the family ever mentioned the dead baby, not Grandpa, my Dad or Dad’s sister.  I think I may have been the only person Gram’s could talk to about her baby that didn’t live.  How sad is that.

My mother’s friend lost her daughter in an auto accident.  The girl was 16 years old on her way to her first prom.  Mom acknowledged the anniversary of her death by sending a  “thinking of you card” to her friend annually until her friend died.  One time, when I was still young, I asked my mom why she continued to send a card after so many years and suggested it would just make her friend more sad.  She told me a person who loses a child is always sad on the anniversary of their death, their birthday, and other special days families celebrate. I had no idea how she knew that.  I didn’t ask her, but she seemed very certain.

A dear friend of mine lost her child in an auto accident.  In an effort to comfort and support my friend I sent cards or notes on the anniversary of the accident, the day he died, and/or on his birthday.  About 4 years after his death she called me to say I didn’t need to do that any more especially for the day of the accident.  Although in the past that entire month had been horrible she said she was fine now.  That month no longer bothered her, and she almost seemed peeved that I had sent a card.  The following year we just simply didn’t speak of him, the accident or the date it happened.  I’m sure she remembers every day, every detail.  However, it appears she’s now at a place where looking back keeps her from moving forward with her healing process.  She grieves privately as her broken heart continues to mend.  She seems to have adjusted to her new normal without him in her life.  She speaks of him from time to time, and she admits to talking to him frequently.  However, I wonder what the future holds in respect to having others honor his memory.  Will she change her mind?  Will she miss seeing a card in the mail years from now?  Will she want to talk about him on the anniversary of his accident, his death, or a special birthday sometime in the future, or is the lack of wanting my acknowledgement simply another phase of her grieving process.   How will I know?  How can I stay in tune to her needs?  Will I pick up on any changes since we only talk a couple of times a month?  I must trust my instincts and her to somehow let me know when and what my next step should be.

Another dear friend of mine lost her husband several years ago.  She was still in a state of shock over the death of her mother three weeks earlier when her husband died from injuries sustained in an industrial accident.  Her world was turned into total chaos. I don’t remember how long I did so, but  I sent her a special note every day for a very long time hoping she’d have the strength to get out of bed and move forward enough to sustain her own life and take care of those things she needed to attend to.  I was afraid for her, but all I could do was keep sending her words of encouragement. To this day I still send her “thinking of you” notes on significant dates.  Sometimes I remember her wedding anniversary, the day he died, and/or the anniversary of his birthday.  Which ever it is I try to make sure I acknowledge her pain and honor his memory sometime during each year before it passes.  That friend always seems to be grateful that I’ve acknowledged her loss in some way.  However, I think for her she sees it as an acknowledgement of a life she once shared with the person she most loved who’s now gone.  She moves forward wearing her grief outwardly.  She speaks of it professionally, and casually.  She has studied the grieving process and loss support.  She has turned her loss into a support and educational outlet for others.  She was determined to turn her loss into a positive force.  It has taken on a life of its own and therefore her true love’s memory lives on in her work.  She doesn’t hide her sorrow.  She has embraced her feelings.  She wears her sadness as a cloak of courage, survival, wisdom,  strength, and hope for all to see and use as a beacon lighting the way through their grieving process. However, the personal messages I send still appear to be meaningful.  I will continue to send them.  Hopefully I will not forget, but if I do I know she will be forgiving.

It was a year of deaths the year our friend’s 4 month old grandchild died.  A few months later, while the deceased child’s parents were still in grief counseling, they had a miscarriage.  Losing one barely known, and then losing one yet to be met seemed to inflict too much pain for any parents or grandparent to endure.  Forever changed, they move forward in their own ways.  We don’t speak of the losses of the unborn.  Instead we celebrate the pure pleasure of knowing there are now 3 healthy, happy children running through that house.  They are making themselves known to the world with their discoveries, laughter and playful screams.  Sometimes we acknowledge the birthday, or anniversary of the death of the 4 month old.  There may not be much to say about one who literally had their entire life ahead of them.  Despite that fact we know she is never forgotten by her grandpa.  He guards his sadness and remains closed mouthed, but we know it is there.  Unfortunately we see glimpses of anger.  It seems to have taken up residency where love once shined through with pride and joy for a little girl who had a bright future ahead of her.  However, we remain hopeful that time will heal his broken heart.

I recently received a notice of passing and memorial celebration mementos for my Mom’s last surviving childhood friend.  The woman was in her 90′s. She had lived in her own apartment attached to the home of her son and daughter in law for the last 20 years or so.  Until very recently she was quite independent getting herself around via cab or bus, doing her own cooking and caring for herself completely.  She lived a very full and happy life. I didn’t know her people. I didn’t send them a sympathy card.  I thought about her death more personally than I had anticipated.  To me her passing represents the end of an era.  She was the last of her generation to know my parents.  I found that to be a bit of an eye opener in regard to my own morality and thought perhaps I was the one who needed a sympathy card.

Obviously, just as the grieving process is an individual journey for each of us so is the process of wanting and/or needing acknowledgement of our loss by others.  If we have any sense at all we know what to say at the time of a loss.  Heartfelt sympathy should roll off our tongues fairly easily.   Cards of condolences on the store shelves seem to be a bit more meaningful these days.  When we live next door, or if we stay in touch at all we can see or hear about the comings and goings of friends and/or relatives bringing meals over or getting the grief stricken out for a bite and a breath of fresh air.  Or, are they being ignored because those who care aren’t comfortable with death itself?  If that’s the case I wish them well for when death slaps them in the face.   Some people may ask how many days, weeks, or months should we be prepared to offer our support.  I suggest we look at whether or not longer term support is desired, and does that change with the grieving process itself?  As we grieve throughout the years, which I believe we do as we continue to honor our loved ones, will we want others to acknowledge anniversaries of our sadness as another year goes by commemorating our loss or losses?

The grieving journey is a personal journey for each of us.  No two are alike.  Knowing that, then should we ask do we know others well enough to know how long each individual wants the passing of their loved one acknowledged?  No we do not, and we won’t know until we try as is shown by the above example.  However, if we make no effort what does that say about us as human beings and what message are we sending by sending no message at all?

 When do we stop acknowledging a loss?  written by Jan LaPitz

Share on Facebook

“One cold November morning my husband of almost thirty- eight years, Sid, died suddenly in his sleep. I felt like my shattered heart could not possibly go on beating without him.

I remember lying alone in the dark that night, begging God to take me, too. But when the sun came up, I was still breathing. And I knew that somehow I would have to eventually figure out how to crawl up out of the deep hole of grief that totally engulfed me.

At first all I could do was stumble through the numbness of shock and disbelief. Actually that stage was easier than the many stages that followed. Shock protects you for a while from the deep pain of grief.

As I slowly emerged from that fog, I began to encounter many feelings like guilt, anger, confusion, depression and hopelessness. I also experienced some of the physical problems that often accompany emotional pain.

Even though Sid had not died from an illness, I was told the local hospice offered helpful support to anyone who had suffered a loss. That is where my journey to recovery began.

Looking back, I realize that joining a grief support group and receiving some individual counseling were the two most important steps I took as I inched forward. I was given comfort and understanding, plus the skills I needed to deal with my grief. And that was the key. I was handed the tools, but I had to learn to use them myself. I discovered that over coming grief was very hard work.

I learned so many things during that process. For example, one has to find the “new normal.” Your old life is gone—though not forgotten—and you have to learn to live a completely different way in order to become a productive person again.

Finding the balance between moving ahead, while holding those precious memories of the past in your heart was vital. As my wonderful grief counselor put it, “Sid would not want you to let this horrible experience defeat you. He would want you to try and make the most of your life without him.”

Each person has a different path on the road to recovery. What is right for one person may not be right for another. I also discovered that the stages of grief are different for everyone, and are not always in any particular order. Some people never go through certain stages, while others revisit stages.

It took what seemed like an eternity to finally see that light at the end of the tunnel. I began to experience periods where I actually felt hopeful again. And when I slipped on my road to recovery, I had my grief group to keep me from falling. That in itself was healing. As we helped each other during the recovery phase, we all began to feel stronger.

The first year was very difficult. But I took comfort in the fact that things would get better—and they did. Life has to go on. The best way you can pay tribute to your loved one is to find a way to be happy again.

I also had to learn to stand on my own. At first I was terrified of certain tasks. But once I learned to handle the finances by myself, and other responsibilities that Sid generally took care of, I felt empowered. Growth is another thing that you must experience before you can move forward.

When you lose someone you love, there will always be times when great sadness surrounds you. Anniversaries, birthdays and holidays are particularly tough. But time, hard work and support can help you find your way back from the brink of despair. My tears flow less often now, and sometimes they even roll across a smile as I recall all the good times we enjoyed together.

Six years after Sid’s death, I feel like I am treasuring the past, living for today and looking forward to tomorrow. I not only survived a devastating loss– I emerged as a better, stronger woman. You can triumph over tragedy. This I know.”

Melinda Bailey

Share on Facebook

We are all different and thus our journey through grief is unique to each of us even though there are factors such as your relationship with the deceased that come into play.  We make the decision to grieve or to shove it away, we make the decision to be gentle and kind and allow ourselves to mourn openly and feel sadness.

We also decide to be happy again, to seek a life of joy. We decide to honor the memories of our loved ones lost and to talk about them with fondness. We decide to be grateful for the time shared with someone or we decide to be bitter and angry about the loss.  Yes, even in grief you decide. We can empower ourselves to live life despite our losses and that is what I have decided.

You might want to write down exactly the type of life you want. How your life will benefit those around you.

What will you decide?

  ~ JoAnne Funch

Share on Facebook

I know from my own personal experiences of loss that I felt like I was in a tunnel looking out and life was busy and chaotic all around me and I felt frozen in time.   I acknowledge such cultures and religions honor the dead and the bereaved differently and I praise them for this.

 During my work with the bereaved the past few years I have discovered that they almost need permission to continue to grieve because everyone else has moved on and no one is  talking about the loss anymore.  You feel all alone in your pain.

Death is uncomfortable for the living, often family,  friend, and colleagues feel vulnerable because they don’t know what to say or how to support  you.  I teach people to ask for the support they need because this is the absolute way you will feel cared for and comforted.

So when will you feel happiness again?  Is it possible that happiness may be about acceptance rather than about having fun?  Happiness can be found all around. If you start with the beauty all around you like the trees, flowers, lakes and oceans. You can find happiness in that moment of beauty and serenity.

I challenge you to find a little happiness today and this day forward.

“You don’t heal  from the loss of a loved one because time passes, you heal because of what you do with the time” – Carol Crandell

If you want private one on one grief coaching to help you on your journey of living life again, I’d be honored to talk with you.  For more information CLICK

Share on Facebook

As I type this post I think geez, we just got through the holiday season which is a tough time to cope and here we are coming upon another holiday that would usually set me into a tail spin of self-pity because I do not have someone special to be my Valentine.

This year is different, I have recently come upon the realization that sometimes I have held on so tight to the past that it has stopped the flow into my future.  So as I contemplated the new year I decided I do not want to be in the same place personally or professionally next year at this time and that if anything was to change it would have to be up to me.  So I made a commitment to myself this Valentine’s Day that I would not sit around and mope instead I would create a new ritual.

Once I made that decision I think the universe stepped in because I received a phone call from a colleague this past week asking me to speak to a group of women in a work development program on  job seeking skills and yes the date of the event is the 14th.    I said YES and thought giving back to others in need was a great new ritual and  I’m actually excited now to share my Valentine’s evening doing something meaningful.

I share this with you to suggest that creating new rituals can be a wonderful way to remember and honor our loved ones.  It can free us from the constant pain of our loss and help us heal and move forward into our future life while honoring the past.

So what can you do to create a new ritual?  Here are just a few ideas that come to mind, please share below in the comments your own ideas and share with others here in the Heartache To Healing community.

- Buy yourself a beautiful Valentine Card, flowers, chocolates or whatever your loved one would have given you – treating yourself can feel really good.

- Take yourself out to a nice dinner – you deserve it and your loved one would be so happy

- Write a love letter to your loved one, tell him/her all the things you have been doing and how proud he/she would be of you

- Take a valentine card or gift to a senior home and share some love with someone else

-Buy yourself  piece of jewelry or a special stone to carry in your pocket that will always keep your loved ones memory with you

- Plant a tree or flower in loving memory of your loved one

- Make a donation to the American Heart Assoc (Feb is Heart Healthy Month) or whatever charity you feel connected in the memory of your loved one

Remembering your loved one is a way of insuring that the past does not just live in the past, but it lives on and your life goes on.

Share your comments below in what new ritual you are going to try this year.

Share on Facebook

Everyone experiences loss of those they love, but the intensity of your grief can be doubled by your relationship to the person who died such as a parent, spouse or child and this is the first holiday without that person who was so important in your life.

Like me and most other people who face this holiday season with a huge void, a hole in our hearts we have many questions and thoughts that are conjured up in your mind like, How can I survive this?, I want to hide until the holiday season is over, I don’t feel like celebrating, I can’t act normal because my life isn’t normal, I can’t face happy people, No one understands the grief I am going through and how will our holiday traditions now be different?

You should know that there really are no right or wrong answers to all the questions and all the questions you ponder may not have answers, maybe not now anyway.

Before you are totally overcome with anxiety, overwhelm and sadness there are things you can do to ease your pain and sorrow.

Here are just a few ideas that will help you cope immediately this year. You will feel so much better honoring yourself and the memories of your loved one. You will also release expectations and surprises you don’t want to face.

Lower Your Expectations

Don’t feel obligated to send the holidays cards and bake all the cookies like you used to.

Honor What You Feel

These are your feelings and whatever you do this holiday, claim those feelings.

Planning Ahead

You now realize that this year’s holidays and perhaps holidays yet to come will not be the same or unfold how you’d wish. It is best to plan your days ahead as this will help you cope.

Empower yourself where you can

Obviously there are many changes you can’t escape from and you may feel your power has been taken away. Perhaps this is a good time to evaluate your holiday traditions, which ones hold meaning and which ones you want to keep.

Major changes

For the first year or two without your loved one, it usually isn’t a good idea to make any major changes to your traditions like leaving town only to escape or ignoring all sense of traditions you used to share.

Get and maintain a support system

The holiday season is a time when emotions naturally are running high

as are the memories making this a difficult time to be alone. I encourage you to find support of family and friends who can pitch in and offer help.

Remembering

If your loss was recent you will want everyone to remember your loved one, I know I did. You may choose to plan a ceremony or special tribute to honor your loved one, or a casual round the table recalling stories kind of sharing.

Gratitude

During your time of sorrow you may find it impossible to find anything to be grateful for. But I assure you even during our darkest time there are things we can be grateful for.

You too can cope with grief during the holidays if you are gentle with yourself and try some of these ideas and more than anything, finding some joy during this festive time of year is also a wonderful way of honoring the memories of those who have brought us so much joy and those still with us.

I was  interviewed on by Mary T Okeefe, founder of Well Within on her radio program.  Here is a link to that short interview.  CLICK this link to listen: 

Share on Facebook

Death is a word many people understand the meaning of all to well.  According to the dictionary, the definition of death is the end of life, or in other words the person involved has come to the end of his life.  What the dictionary meaning does not refer to is that the family who loved this person has also come to the end of life as they know it.  The obituary will most likely read “survived by “and list the person’s family.  Death has taken during my life time my mother, my father, two husbands and a granddaughter; I know that the term “survived by” is not an accurate description.  The word survives means to continue to prosper, to exist or function. The person in grief is not able to do any of this.  Even though our loved one who is “dead” has come to the end of their life, in so many ways this definition is also true to those who have “survived”.

     Another meaning in the dictionary for the word “survive” is to remain alive.  This definition is where we must begin our grief and find a way to heal.  Just to remain alive sounds very simple, but in reality it is so hard to do.  Many may ask, “How do I even start to feel alive again”? For myself, I started with time.  Hours, minutes and seconds really had no meaning, they were all the same.  So I began to set a goal of time for myself to get through, some days it was an hour, others days were only minutes or seconds.  I would spend time writing, crying, remembering or doing nothing at all but hope to get past an increment of time.  No matter how hard it was, I always made it.  I may have not always felt better but I made it, I remained alive.

     As I stumbled through the hours, day, weeks and months to follow, I found I was remaining alive.  I thought many days that this would be how I would continue to feel forever.  I would remain alive I just would never be alive. I often wrote in a journal, I called it good days and bad days.  It was several months before I put a notation on the good day side.  My writings were all the works of someone just trying to remain alive.  Well wishers would see me and tell me how very sorry they were I had lost my loved one.  I thought and wrote about this comment often.  I had not lost my loved one, lost infers to something you can find and I would never find them again.  More accurately it was I that was lost.  How do I find myself again and do more than just remain alive?

     I began by continuing my journal writing, and attending grief counseling.  I started a project to make bears out of the clothes of my loved one to give to family and friends.  All of these things helped me begin my journey through grief.   I cried when I felt sad and I laughed when I felt happy.  I realized at some point that remaining alive was not enough.  If I were to only remain alive for the rest of my life then in reality when my loved ones died, I did also.  This would leave the rest of my family mourning another death.

   Somewhere in the blur of months and years to follow, I wrote in my journal of a celebration I attended.  Celebration is another word that was not usually in my vocabulary.  The dictionaries definition of celebration is to observe a notable occasion or to honor.  As I thought about this word, I believe I turned a corner in my healing process.  The death of my loved one was certainly notable and I could honor those I had lost, I could “celebrate” their life.

     I began by writing on the good side of my journal, the good memories I had.  I talked often to my family sharing stories and remembering the great times we shared.  I organized a golf outing to raise money for charity in my loved ones name.  It was this outing that changed my journey from remaining alive to being alive. I began to feel again and through those feelings I found a purpose, a mission.  With the help of my children, we began a children’s grief program.  Realizing as an adult how hard I had struggled with my grief, I know it must be even harder for a child.  Together my family and I created a safe place for children to come and talk about their feelings.  A place they would not feel alone, a place where they could take this journey through grief and learn to celebrate again.

    Each of us has our own journey through grief and each of us feels our loss differently.  It is not necessary to begin a children’s grief program, hold a golf outing, write in a journal or make bears out of clothes.  It is only necessary to remain alive until you discover what makes you want to celebrate your loved ones life. By celebrating my loved ones life rather than mourning their death, I found the true meaning of the word “survive”.  I have learned to prosper, to function to live, and I have done more than just remain alive.  In that process of living I have also found a way for my loved ones memory to remain alive.

For those of you feeling lost in your journey through grief, it is my hope that you can one day find a way to celebrate the life of your loved one.  Find a passion, a meaning, a purpose and celebrate in their honor your achievement.  Death is not then the end of life, but rather a notable occasion where we can continue to honor our loved ones life.  They become the survivors by remaining alive in our hearts and we can say we have survived and learned to live again.

Please share your comments below or with Jacqueline Nannini directly at:   jackiedbmf@aol.com

Share on Facebook

 The day our son Paul died, the director of development at Crossroads School, where Paul and his brother Ben had attended high school, called. She was sympathetic, soothing, and selling as is the way with development directors for non-profits. I know. I used to be one. What she suggested was an endowment fund in his memory that would benefit the high school’s jazz music program. How smart she was. As a jazz pianist and composer Paul had greatly benefited from that program, so I was sold on giving back to it immediately. By the time of his funeral we had it set up.

In that first year we made several other donations.  The charity nearest and dearest to our hearts is the Didi Hirsch Mental Health Services. Besides money donations each year we walk in its suicide prevention run/walk and attend its Erasing the Stigma luncheon. I truly believe this stigma and shame kept Paul from seeking help and talking about his illness. The work Didi Hirsch does to erase that stigma and to prevent suicide would have been so useful to us while Paul was alive, if only we had known that a place like Didi Hirsch existed.

We donated a plaque in his memory at the Jazz Bakery to memorialize the last time Paul played piano in public. He played in the Crossroads School Jazz Ensemble reunion concert the December before he died. He only played one tune, and it was hard for him to even focus on that.

And we gave the Micronesian handicrafts we had collected while we lived in the South Pacific to the Pacific Asia Museum in Pasadena, California in Paul’s memory because the time we lived in the South Pacific – on Kwajalein in the Marshall Islands and visiting Ponape, Yap, Palau, and Guam – were some of his happiest times growing up.

On the first anniversary of Paul’s death we planted a tree on our property. It stands at the edge of our driveway like a welcoming sentry in the place where an old Monterey pine once grew and died. We knew we wanted a flowering and climbing tree. We had hoped that whether we’re still at this house or not, some little boy or girl would find joy in climbing that tree and sitting in the leaves as Paul did in the old pine as a boy.

Also on the first anniversary we had a ceremony to dedicate his gravestone. Officially this ceremony marks the end of the Jewish year of mourning. And even though I made much progress in that first year toward surviving his loss, official or not, I was not through mourning for Paul. I couldn’t stop thinking he shouldn’t be here, that he doesn’t belong here in a plot surrounded by old, old dead people, that he has too many things to do and places to go yet, and that he can’t do any of them because he is here.

Bob was at my side and held my hand during the dedication ceremony as we gathered in a circle on the grass next to Paul’s grave. The Rabbi spoke, said some prayers in both Hebrew and English, and recited a beautiful poem. Then we all recited the Lord’s Prayer and the Mourner’s Kaddish  – a prayer that affirms life rather than rants about death. The Rabbi then took off the red cloth that covered Paul’s black granite stone and the dedication was over. Just like that. One year of mourning officially over with the swift removal of a red cloth – like the curtain rising at the start of a play. Well, I wasn’t ready for the play to start. I had more mourning, grieving, wallowing to do. The first year was over. I had made a lot of progress in that first year, but I still had a long way to go.

Since Paul’s death it has been our tradition to visit this site on his birthday and death day every year. We don’t stay long. All I need is a few minutes to reconnect, to stop what I’m doing in my busy life to just be with Paul. But, really he is with me everywhere – all around our home, in my office, in the car, wherever we are when we travel, in my words, in my mind, in my heart. I don’t need to look for him in the cemetery. Being there affirms his death. The other places keep him alive for me.

Paul Sharples

During that first year, I made a memory list of things unique to Paul. At first it was in prose form and then I turned it into a poem that I like to post on my blog on his birthday. I also have it in my memoir Leaving the Hall Light On: A Mother’s Memoir of Living with Her Son’s Bipolar Disorder and Surviving His Suicide (Lucky Press LLC, May, 2011). I felt like I was racing with time because I didn’t want the passage of time to fade his memory from my mind. However, even though he died twelve years ago, I haven’t forgotten my memories of Paul. Here are a few items on the list.

• I’ll always remember he slept without closing his eyes all the way
• I’ll always remember he played the piano, legs crossed at the knees, leaning
• way down over the keyboard
• I won’t ever forget the feel of his cool pale skin the last night I saw him or the sound of his voice
• I’ll always remember he loved to fish

Madeline still honors her sons memory through suicide prevention work and donations to mental health and suicide prevention organizations, such as Didi Hirsch Mental Health Services, NAMI: National Alliance on Mental Illness, and the Facebook page Putting a Face On Suicide. She also continues to write to keep his memory alive and aid in her healing. Last December, Paul’s birthday month, she profiled a mental health or suicide prevention organization every day on her blog Choices. She also blogs for Red Room, PsychAlive, and Naturally Savvy, and she is currently working on a novel.

 IF YOU’VE EXPERIENCED SUICIDE IN YOUR FAMILY OR WOULD LIKE TO SHARE COMMENTS ON HOW YOU HONOR THE MEMORY OF A LOVED ONE, PLEASE SAHRE YOUR COMMENTS BELOW:

Share on Facebook