Photos

The Miracle of the Carpenter

The Miracle of the Carpenter
by Max Lucado


Loretto Chapel took five years to complete. Modeled after the Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, its delicate sanctuary contains an altar, a rose window, and a choir loft.

The choir loft is the reason for wonder.

Were you to stand in the newly built chapel in 1878, you might see the Sisters of Loretto looking forlornly at the balcony. Everything else was complete: the doors had been hung, the pews had been placed, the floor had been laid. Everything was finished. Even the choir loft. Except for one thing. No stairs.

The chapel was too small to accommodate a conventional stairway. The best builders and designers in the region shook their heads when consulted. “Impossible,” they murmured. There simply wasn’t enough room. A ladder would serve the purpose, but mar the ambiance.

The Sisters of Loretto, whose determination had led them from Kentucky to Santa Fe, now faced a challenge greater than their journey: a stairway that couldn’t be built.

What they had dreamed of and what they could do were separated by fifteen impossible feet.

So what did they do? The only thing they could do. They ascended the mountain. Not the high mountains near Santa Fe. No, they climbed even higher. They climbed the same mountain that Jesus climbed 1,800 years earlier in Bethsaida. They climbed the mountain of prayer.

As the story goes, the nuns prayed for nine days. On the last day of the novena, a Mexican carpenter with a beard and a wind-burned face appeared at the convent. He explained that he had heard they needed a stairway to a chapel loft. He thought he could help.

The mother superior had nothing to lose, so she gave him permission.

He went to work with crude tools, painstaking patience, and uncanny skill. For eight months he worked.

One morning the Sisters of Loretto entered the chapel to find their prayers had been answered. A masterpiece of carpentry spiraled from the floor to the loft. Two complete three-hundred-sixty-degree turns. Thirty-three steps held together with wooden pegs and no central support. The wood is said to be a variety of hard fir, one nonexistent in New Mexico!

When the sisters turned to thank the craftsman, he was gone. He was never seen again. He never asked for money. He never asked for praise. He was a simple carpenter who did what no one else could do so singers could enter a choir loft and sing.

See the stairway for yourself, if you like. Journey into the land of Enchantment. Step into this chapel of amazement and witness the fruit of prayer.

Or, if you prefer, talk to the Master Carpenter yourself. He has already performed one impossible feat in your world. He, like the Santa Fe carpenter, built a stairway no one else could build. He, like the nameless craftsman, used material from another place. He, like the visitor to Loretto, came to span the gap between where you are and where you long to be.

Each year of his life is a step. Thirty-three paces. Each step of the stair is an answered prayer. He built it so you can climb it.

And sing.

I think I've found the "New Normal"

The realization hit me recently that I have reached the "new normal". About two months ago I actually began to "function" again to almost full capacity. I don't know that I will ever again be able to throw myself into life and work the way I did before Josh died. I have, however, found a slower, steady pace...............one that does not involve as many dreams of a beautiful future (on this earth) and one that recognizes that nothing in this world is permanent. With this new normal, so many things that seemed to matter before, just don't matter anymore. This new normal brings with it the realization that this hurt in my heart is just not going to lesson. In some ways, yes, it's true, I learn how to deal with it and grow stronger. Still, I find myself suddenly panic at times and cry out, "This just can't be real. Josh can't really be gone." Yet, I know he is and I must deal with the loss because I have no other choice. It's really very unfair but what sense would there be in fighting it? It's a fact whether it's fair or not and I have no choice but to deal with it. The reality that everything I love can be taken from me in an instant causes me to wonder what is going to be next. The frustration in knowing that nothing I hold dear is immune from suddenly being snatched from my life causes me to sometimes view life as futile. Yet, my heart filled with love for those who remain within reach of my touch and voice keeps me from giving into despair and causes me to keep trying. My memories of my precious son and the desire to make him proud and be the strong mother he would want me to be, gives me just enough strength to go on. This new normal is just so hard.

17 Months

Seventeen months today since Josh left this world. I cried a lot of tears last night and today.

I explained in my grief support group tonight that some folks think that grief is something that can just be "set aside" and then "picked back up" from time to time. The truth is that grief is now a part of me. Just as I could not possibly cut off an arm or a leg, I can't just cut off the grief. For the grief is me. It is a part of the whole. To accept me, one has to accept the grief that I own.

Mid Month Ramblings

I knew this would be a hard day. It always is. You know............the day before the monthly anniversary of Josh's death. Try as I might I still can't ignore it. It's there looming in the back of my mind always creating a darkness over those days in the middle of the month until I finally reach the 16th. Funny thing is, the 16th brings tremendous amounts of sadness but also brings a sense of relief. I've made it through one more month. Tomorrow will mark the 17th month anniversary of Josh's death. In case you think I am obssesive about the date, I might point out that I know of those who have lost loved ones who count the days...........not months, not years but days. They know exactly how many days it has been since their loved one died.

I do feel a great sense of relief at having separated my two blogs and feeling like I can come to this blog and share my feelings. It's funny that I felt so stifled on the other blog because I did not want folks to think that I was constantly down but also needed an outlet to express how I am feeling. Grief is a part of me and to deny it is to deny who I am. I don't think the sadness ever goes away but it becomes a part of who we are and somehow, I think we have to learn to make friends with it. To always be "fighting" it, avoiding it, denying it, or masking it does nothing to deal with it. I think acceptance that the grief is part of me............it is who I am..............gives me the ability to embrace the rest of my life with all the passion that I can possible muster. No longer does anything really matter in this life except those things that are of eternal importance and to me that boils down to relationships.

Update on my Journey

Recently, I have found myself less and less willing to post about my grief journey. I am not sure exactly why. The pain is still there just as intensely. As someone said to me, "The pain does not go away, but we get stronger and more able to deal with it." I still cry when I least at expect it.....................and when I do expect it. I still can't figure out how I am suppose to get through life without the child to whom I gave birth. However, I know that each day I will find the strength I need from the One who never leaves or forsakes us. I know that I will complete this journey some day and see Joshua again.

Perhaps, we finally get to a point in our grief where we realize that the rest of the world is ready for us to "move on" because our pain is beginning to make them feel uncomfortable. That's ok. Perhaps that is what gives us the ability to grasp the reality of what our life has become and make the best of it. Joshua is never out of my thoughts and always in my heart. I am just learning to talk about him without crying (so much) in public and I save the tears for when I am alone.

The grief support group has been a big help to me. In our small group, it's ok to let those tears out and to talk about all of the emotions associated with our grief. Most recently we talked about anger associated with grief. I didn't want to address the anger because I have worked very hard to not be angry and to be forgiving and loving to those I needed to show grace.

For that one night I faced the anger I didn't even realize I had, and expressed it verbally. I have never been angry at God. I know that He is a God of love and that He does not inflict evil upon His children. Rather, I believe evil is a result of this fallen world in which we live. I, however, do have anger towards those folks responsible directly and indirectly for my son's death but was unable to admit that to myself until recently. Even though I pray for them and want them to find direction in their lives and become better people, I have anger over what they did to my precious son.

I will admit, when asked to share what I was angry about, I thought it was a bunch of "hog wash" because what was that going to do? It wasn't going to change anything. But much to my surprise, it did change something. It changed me. It took that place where all that ugliness has been brewing in my heart and cleaned it out. Then I had a choice. I could let all that ugliness slowly seep back in, or, I could fill it with something good. By being able to express the pain in detail, in person and find support and acceptance within the group it left a place in my heart that I could fill with happiness and laughter once again.

Those feelings of anger and disappointment will return. I will have to deal with them again. It's part of life. In the mean time, I am truly learning to live more in spite of my grief. My life is becoming more productive again and my thought process more clear. I don't believe I will ever be the same as I was before Joshua died. How could I? But just as someone who loses the capability to walk and has to learn again step by step, I am learning slowly how to live again. It is a long, painful journey but I know that Joshua would want me to make the best of it. I know that he would want me to be happy. I find myself more sensitive to the things that he was sensitive to and try to honor him in that way. He loved family, peace, animals and gave sacrificially to others who were in need. I find myself drawn to those ideals even more than I ever was, knowing that by promoting them, a part of Josh lives on through me. I hope that when this life is over that this grief journey has made me a better person and that I have truly earned that smile that awaits me in Heaven both from my Heavenly Father and from my precious son.

More Homework

That grief support group I mentioned...............it meets tomorrow.

Every other Tuesday, we get together and talk. There are seven of us in the group plus the counsellor. Sometimes there are fewer because someone in the group has other obligations or someone just doesn't feel like coming. We all understand when someone just doesn't feel like coming.

We have homework this week. I put it off to the last minute. I have had two weeks to do the homework, but have put it off, and tomorrow is the big day.

Seems we are suppose to write out what we are angry about. "Oh, we are not angry" we all proclaim. It's not right to be angry even when it's associated with grief and loss, right? So, our wise counsellor says, "Well, write about the things are are disappointed about." Ah, we all can write about that. We all have disappointments associated with our grief, right?

So, I began writing. Bringing up all those negative emotions and putting them down on paper is exhausting. Not sure how it's all going to turn out because I am too tired to finish it tonight. I will have to find time to finish it tomorrow.

Grieving is such hard work.

Homework

At our grief support group last week we were suppose to take home a picture of a flower and on each of the petals write something that we lost when we lost our loved ones.

I remember getting the paper but don't have a clue what happened to it and never thought of it again. I really struggle with remembering and concentration issues.

So Cynthia, the counselor, passed the paper out to me again this week.

I just sat down and started it but when I looked at it and the instructions were to write down what we lost on each petal my first thought was to just put down "Everything".

But, the second paper she gave us this week was another flower and we were to write on it what we have left. So, I did that one first because it's easier for me to focus on the good.

Here is what I wrote:

God/Faith
Alissa
Mike
Mikey and Kristin
Family
Friends
Memories
My animals
Writing, journaling, blogging
Nature's beauty
Love

I am sure I can think of many more but those were the ones that just popped into my head as I began this assignment.

Healing From Loss

Taken from the book A Time to Mourn, A Time to Dance:

"There is no straight line of healing from loss. In fact, there are multiple routes, including dead ends and blind spots. There are detours that cause us to change direction, often leaving us feeling lost and confused. Some potential detours can take us through shock, denial, and disbelief. Others may draw us into paths of anger, depression and despair." (Page 16)

How to Heal includes:

* Having the Experience. This is the entry point.

* Owning the Experience as a loss. This means not denying it, pretending it doesn't hurt, or minimizing it's importance.

* Willingness and readiness to walk the path of healing. The timing of healing is an individual thing.

* Hurting. There is no quick fix and no path that allows us to avoid the pain. We must face the pain and experience it.

* Expressing and not repressing the hurt. That means finding a support system or a friend who is willing to let us experience and share our feelings.

* Assessing and reevaluating ourselves and the situation. It may seem to delay our progress, but it's a necessary part of healing. Early grief it feels like we will never survive long enough to find the end of the maze.

* Learning to live with a redefinition of self. This final step requires finding ways to reinvest our emotional energy, rather han having all of our energy stuck in re-experiencing the loss. This takes place slowly over time. Expect set backs.

How Long Does Grief Last?

In the previous post, I wrote about the book A Time to Mourn, A Time to Dance and the grief support group that I started attending.

I wanted to follow up with a couple additional informational posts derived from the book.

One section of the book discusses the length of grief and how long one can expect the process to take.

As the book states on page 14:

Grief takes as long as it takes.

"Numbness is a gift, but as the numbness wears off - usually six to eight weeks after the loss - we really begin feeling the depth of the pain and the loneliness. The irony is that by that time, most of our friends have gone back to their own routine. It is then when we begin searching for the next yard-mark of hope."

The book goes on to discuss that the first year is basically surviving all the "firsts". Those of you who have followed along with me on this blog as I have travelled this road, know that each of the firsts have been especially hard for me. The first Thanksgiving, The first Christmas, The first Birthday, etc.

The books says, "Again and again we are faced wit yet another first. Maybe that's one of the reasons the first year is so hard. But the second year is hard too; not as hard, but the pain doesn't vanish on day 366. It's almost as if you have to get through the first year of pain before the healing can begin." (Page 14)

Then there are the anniversaries. As you know, for me, the anniversaries are very difficult. I still find myself shutting down every month in the middle of the month when I approach the 14th (the day that Josh was injured) and the 16th, the day that he died. I try to not think about it but actually ignoring it makes it worse for me. When I acknowledge the source of my pain, I am better able to deal with those days.

Also from the book (page 14):

"Healing becomes more about learning to incorporate the grief into our lives. Life begins to return to a new "normal". Many people say the scar becomes painful and visible around the anniversary time. Don't be surprised by anniversary reactions...................honor the experience, be gentle with yourself. You may feel like you are losing it or ashamed. Remember, anyone who has experienced a major loss has been there."

Grief

Fifteen months after Josh's death and I started going to a support group that is being held at our church for those who are suffering from grief. A year ago, I was not ready for such a group. Now the time is right for me to attend this group and join with others who are experiencing loss.

Grief has many similarities and many differences. Discusssing these things in a group of supportive people with a good grief counselor is a good way to work through some of the thoughts and feelings associated with the grief journey.

We are meeting every other week for six weeks. The first meeting for me was both a relief and also a struggle. It was a relief to speak of some of the things that troubled me. However, to speak of them also brought such pain that I had several days where I could do little more than try to get past those raw emotions.

At the support group, we were given a book called A Time to Mourn, A Time to Dance. This book was actually produced and given out to those who were touched directly and indirectly by the shootings at Virginia Tech. Lutheran Family Services produced the book and made it available to pastors and lay people in the area after this horrible incident.

There was surplus of these books and Dr. Cynthia Long (Lasher) who is running our support group has extras that she is giving away. The book is an easy read. (On a personal note, I first met Cynthia a couple of years ago when she contacted me about coordinating the purchase of a puppy for a relative who had recently lost his wife. The gentleman ended up buying two pups from me from two separate litters.)

The book points out that suffering grief does not just come from losing a loved one. One can suffer from grief anytime there is a significant loss in life. This would experiencing the empty nest syndrome when young adult children leave home, losing a job, divorce, dealing with a life threatening illness in a child or other family member.............basically anything that "robs" us of what we consider "normal".

The book says: Grief has no rules. Not everyone will respond the same way.

The following are some ways that one might respond to grief:

shock, numbness, disbelief, tears, life takes on an unreal quality almost like a fog has descended, anger, irritability and a sense of helplessness, sadness, depression, mood swings, anxious, fearful, lonely, vulnerable, feeling like you might be crazy, sometimes a feeling of relief and then feeling guilty for those feelings of relief.

There are also physical sensations in response to grief:

"When we are stressed, our nervous system automatically produces chemicals, One is called adrenaline. The release of this chemical and others in our body cuases the feeling of breathlessness with frequent sighing. Other sensations include tightness in the chest, increased heart rate, palpitations, cold clammy hands, dry mouth and headaches.

As the stress continues, our bodies try to adapt by relasing even more chemicals. The relase of these chemicals helps explain a rise in blood pressure, shortness of breath, feelings of dizziness, a change in appetite, nausea and feelings of anxiousness or excitability.

Other symptoms including fatigue, lack of energy and lack of motiviation can also be biochemically based. There are also changes in our immune system which leave us more susceptible to infections or disease.

These symptoms are all based on the fact that our body is trying to react and respond to a painful situation. We can do things to try and help our body, but to try to stop the reaction would be like eating a sandwich and telling your stomach not to digest it." (from page 11)


In addition there are thought pattern disturbances including the inability to concentrate, forgetfullness, inability to manage time and a preoccupation with the loss.

Behavioral changes might include sleep disturbance, sleeping all the time, need for social contact or need to withdraw, need to be held and hugged or need to be left alone, gathering pictures and memorabilia or locking them all away out of sight. These behaviors are individual and are neither right or wrong.

From page 13 in the book:

"Grief is not dictated by rules or absolutes. Just as each of us is our own unique person, our grief also is uniquely our own. Not better. Not worse. Just ours."

Sacred Tears

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than 10,000 tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love. ~ Washington Irving

An Angel's Kiss

Last night, I was so sad. I was cleaning out some drawers and the pictures, cards, and things I found reminded me of Josh. I wanted to scream but all I could do was cry.

It's that time of the month again when all those feelings come to the surface.

Today marks the second month since Angela's death and 15 months since the night I found out about Josh. (He actually passed away on the 16th.)

Yesterday, Angela's mom went with me to the cemetery to put flowers on both Angela and Josh's graves. The flowers were beautiful. Josh's Grandma Kay made them. They are Christmas arrangements.

Last night as I slept, I felt something brush my cheek. The softest kiss that felt like butterfly wings or the brush of an angel. Then I realized it was Angela. She smiled at me like she always did after giving me a kiss on the cheek. I smiled back.

Just a dream? Yes. A beautiful, beautiful dream. Just for a second, I felt her kiss. What a beautiful gift.

Originally posted December 14, 2009

Photographs

Photographs, like memories, bring sadness as well as joy. How can it be that the very things that bring such comfort also cause so much pain? To love so deeply and not be able to reach out and hold the one you love so much, is torture. Yet, had I known, still I would have gladly chosen the pain over not having ever had the chance to love that child so completely.

Originally posted December 13, 2009

Memorials

The Holidays can be a difficult time for those who have lost loved ones. If you know of someone who has lost a loved one, be sure to let them know that you are thinking about them and that you REMEMBER the loved one who has passed on.

I know it can be hard to bring these things up to folks, but overwhelmingly, most folks who have lost a loved one want you to remember and want you to let them know that you remember the person they have lost. They may cry when you bring it up, but that's ok. They are going to cry regardless of whether you bring it up or not and the tears that come when someone remembers are healing tears.

To all of those who have lost loved ones and especially to those whose grief is fresh, I want you to know that I am thinking about you and that I am wishing you Peace that passes all understanding.

Find a way to make memorials to your loved ones..............write about them in a blog, make a memory book, write a story about them, make a piece of jewelry to commemorate their life, paint a picture, plant a tree..................do anything that helps you to put action to your grief.

My sister-in-law sent me a link to a web site online through Life Net that has an online quilt and folks can make memory squares in honor of their loved ones. Both Angela and Joshua were donors (Angela was able to donate her organs and Joshua was able to donate tissue)and I have made squares for them. However, the memorial is open to anyone to make a memorial regardless of whether the person that has passed was a donor or not. I thought maybe some of you might find this site helpful.

All my love ,

Tammy

https://secure.healingthespirit.org/onlinequilt/index.php

Originally published November 23, 2009

Painful Anniversaries

The last two days we have had grey skies and my heart has been blue. Today it is raining. It's strange but my subconscious tells my body before my body tells my brain that the middle of the month is coming and another anniversary has come upon us. Couldn't figure out why I was fighting the blues so bad until last night when I finished reading the Bible and glanced at Josh's guitar that sits in the corner by my bed. For an instant, I had a vision of him with arms wide open welcoming me into heaven. He was smiling and I went running to him but then the vision was gone. I cried and realized that we are once again approaching the monthly anniversary of his death on the 16th. It will be fourteen months since his death. That will, of course, be preceeded two days prior, on the 14th with the one month anniversary of Angela's death. These "anniversaries" are so hard because although I try not to dwell on them, they are there in my subconscious and I find that I actually do better to acknowledge and deal with them rather than to try to push them aside. What would I do without the love of the Father and His strong and loving arms that hold me each day?

Originally published November 11, 2009

Christmas Cactus

My Christmas Cactus has bloomed twice a year, every year since my grandmother gave it to me, until last year. Josh passed away in September and when November and December came around, the plant did not bloom. Six months later, the plant still did not bloom. This year, my Christmas Cactus has started to bloom again. It's the little things that bring hope and joy.

Originally posted Nov. 9, 2009

Simple Joys

Angela Kania
Advanced Comp
This I Believe Essay

I believe in the power of simple joys.
A few months ago, I was experiencing a difficult time in my life. All around me, the world seemed to be crumbling under my feet. My eighteen-year-old cousin was shot and killed; then a week later my great uncle passed away. My entire family walked around in a dark stupor, fighting to understand and accept the horror of such tragedy. I screamed at the injustice of my cousin dying before achieving his dreams and before living a full life. I struggled to keep my sanity while supporting those around me. I cried until I felt empty, hollow, and hopeless. The dark turmoil in my soul reflected upon my whole world. Nothing seemed right! My hair was always a mess, one of my favorite sandals was missing, my homework was overwhelming, my clothes never fit right, my friends seemed to be distant, and the days drug on and on. Nothing was right! Nothing!
A simple change turned my life around and caused me to believe again. One afternoon while trying to escape the emotional upheaval ripping my world apart, I plopped down along the river in pure exhaustion and defeat. The churning river beat and thrashed, struggling to continue downstream around the large, jutting rocks. As I sat cross-legged and hunched forward cursing at fate and pounding the very ground beneath my feet, a subtle change took place in my heart. I started to notice the simple joys surrounding me. The slightest stir of a cool breeze lifted from the river and gently fluttered my ponytail against the curve of my neck. Raising my head, a smile tugged at the corners of lips as I watched a large bass leap from the water, catch a passing dragonfly, and splash back into the clear river, leaving a rainbow of ripples upon the surface. All I had to do was open my eyes and look around at all the simple joys surrounding me.
I believe in the simple joys. Getting a big hug from my niece, my favorite team celebrating a victory, and my puppy sitting for the first time on command are simple joys I have learned to take pleasure in. I have developed an appreciation for a beautiful sunset, the little girl smiling at me in the next car, the smell of freshly baked cookies, the warmth of the sun on my shoulders, the taste of rich hot cocoa, and that today is Friday! By noticing the simple joys, my whole world seems brighter and happier.
Being grateful and taking account of the big things in life is easy. Sure, all my basic needs are met. I have a home, food on the table, clothes to wear, good health, and family and friends who love me. But as I started becoming aware of the more simple things around me, I began to have hope and to feel alive again. During my life I will experience times of grief, pain, and suffering, but if I look around the simple joys will always be there to help me through. I can’t afford to waste another day letting life pass me by.
I believe in the power of simple joys.


The above essay was written by my niece, Angela, shortly after Josh died. I dedicated today to her memory by noticing and enjoying the simple joys around me. Angela's beautiful words help those of us who remain behind to know how to face the days ahead. Out of the mouth of babes................

We Never Say Goodbye

Sheldon VanAuken, a good friend of author C.S. Lewis, was leaving England and
returning to the United States. The two old friends talked about many things that last day at
lunch. Life, friendship, the good times they’d had -- even death.
Lewis said that he hoped VanAuken and his wife would return soon to England for
a visit. But then he added, “At all events...we’ll certainly meet again, here -- or there.”
They finished their tea, and Lewis said to his friend: “I won’t say goodbye. We’ll meet
again.”
So Lewis crossed the busy street while VanAuken stood there watching. When
Lewis arrived on the other side, he turned, waved and shouted something. VanAuken, who
couldn’t understand because of the traffic, shook his head. So Lewis shouted even louder:
“Christians never say goodbye!”
I think that Angela would like that story. Christians really don’t ever say goodbye.
Because we will meet again, if not here then in heaven, the fairest place of all.


Pastor Joel Ballew
From the memorial service for Angela.

Hold On............

“Hold on to what is good, even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe, even if you must stand alone.
Hold on to what you must do, even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life, even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand, even when I have gone away from you.” ~Pueblo Indians

We Will Live

Another day. Life is bittersweet. We hang on to the precious memories and the love that we have for those already gone. We embrace the life we have with those who are still here. In defiance of death, WE WILL LIVE in spite of the pain in our hearts.


Lamentations 3:22-23 (New American Standard Bible)

The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,
For His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.

Originally posted October 20, 2009

Angela Faith

Angela F. Kania
October 16, 2009

Angela Faith Kania, 16, beloved daughter, sister, granddaughter and friend, of 52 Limestone Road went home to be with the God who filled her heart on Wednesday, Oct. 14, 2009, at the University of Virginia Medical Center in Charlottesville. Angela was born Nov. 3, 1992, in Harrisonburg, a daughter of Phillip Michael Kania of Staunton and Cathy Irene (Cupp) VanLear of Verona.


Angela was preceded in death by an infant sister, Amanda Catherine Kania; her paternal grandparents, Stanley J. and Emilia Kania; and a cousin, Josh Hall.
She was a junior at Fort Defiance High School, where she was a member of the academic and forensics clubs. Angela was a member of Lebanon Church of the Brethren, where she belonged to the youth of the church, and of the Shenandoah District Church of the Brethren Youth Cabinet. Her favorite pastime was babysitting, because she loved children and always became a big sister to those in her care.
Angela was full of life and enthusiastic, outgoing and exuberant with all her family and friends. She always had advice for everyone who needed her and never met anyone she couldn't talk to. Her faith was the foundation in her life, and she was looking forward to sharing God's love on mission trips abroad, like she already did at home every day.

There are so many reasons to remember Angela, because whatever she did, she did big. Her smile and her love of life will always be in our hearts.
In addition to her father and her mother, Angela is survived by her stepmother, Donna H. Kania of Staunton, and her stepfather, Ron VanLear of Verona; a brother, Andy P. Kania and his fiancé, Angie Simonetti; maternal grandparents, Marcus S. and Treva S. Cupp of Verona; three uncles, Les J. Kania and his wife, Maria, of Silver Spring, Md., Kenneth E. Cupp and his wife, Dianne, of Mount Sidney and Michael "Mike" Cupp and his wife, Tammy, of Staunton; an aunt, Michelle L. Weaver and her husband, Wes, of Verona; and cousins, Matt and Elizabeth (Cupp) Packer, Timothy, Laura and Sam Cupp, Kristin and Mikey Cupp, Alissa Hall and Steve and Melinda Kania.

A celebration of Angela's life will be conducted at 5 p.m. Sunday, Oct. 18, 2009, in Lebanon Church of the Brethren by the Rev. Joel E. Ballew.
The family will have a private graveside service.

The family will receive friends from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 17, 2009, in Coffman Funeral Home and at other times at the homes of her parents, Phil and Donna Kania, at 50 Heather Lane in Staunton and Cathy and Ron VanLear at 52 Limestone Road in Verona.

It is suggested by the family that those desiring to make memorial contributions should do so to Cathy VanLear, 52 Limestone Road, Verona, VA 24482 to be distributed to the youth of her church and the many different mission projects and trips that Angela was planning to attend.

Coffman Funeral Home and Crematory at 230 Frontier Drive in Staunton is in charge of her arrangements.

Condolences may be expressed to the family online at www.coffmanfuneralhome.net.

Originally posted October 16, 2009

Angela

Our family has suffered another loss. Our beautiful niece, Angela Kania, passed away shortly after midnight and went to heaven to be with Jesus, her sister, Josh and other other loved ones. Our hearts are aching for our loss but we know that she is at perfect peace. I just know in my heart she is there teasing Josh the way she always did here on this earth and making him smile in spite of himself.

Always a bright smile, a twinkle in her eye, a hug and a kiss on the cheek for Aunt Tammy, never did she fail to say, "I love you" when we parted to go our seperate ways.

I love you, my darling, girl. I always will.

Originally posted October 14, 2009

Grief

Grief has many faces.

Grief includes not only those who have lost a loved one, but also includes many different types of loss. I see grief all around me in those I come in contact with daily. There is the man who has lost his job and does not know how he will feed his family. There is the couple who try desperately to conceive a child, but are not successful. There is the family who lost their home and all their possessions in a fire. There is the mom and dad who must struggle daily watching their child suffer with an incurable illness. There is the single mother trying to raise her children on her own. There is the man whose wife walked out on him for someone else. There are people of all ages dealing with chronic pain or illness.

Put simply, grief is a reaction to any significant loss.

There are typically five stages to grief. All of the stages may not be experienced or they might be experienced out of order:

Denial, disbelief, numbness
Anger, blaming others
Bargaining (for instance "If I am cured of this cancer, I will never smoke again.")
Depressed mood, sadness, and crying
Acceptance, coming to terms


When Josh passed away, I started a private journal and wrote down some of my feelings that I did not wish to share publicly at the time. I titled this private journal "My Journey Through Grief". I specifically made reference to the term "through" because even in the beginning before the shock had completely worn off, I knew that I wanted to make my way "through" this process and not lose myself somewhere along the way. I have had the faith from the very beginning that if not in this world, at least in the world to come, I would no longer feel the deep and overwhelming sadness that comes from losing a child. I have clung to that hope through my darkest nights and longest days, and I still believe it with all my heart.

Here is my initial entry in that journal, dated September 27th, just 11 days after Josh's death:


I have started this blog to chronicle my journey through grief. The word "through" is key here, because I believe that I will make it through to the other side of this most un-natural valley in which I am travelling and will be a better person because of all I have learned along the way. It is my desire to put words to my feelings and my thoughts and somehow make sense of the jumble that is in my head right now. I hope this will help me now as I make this journey, but that it will also help other's who must travel their own road of grief. Each road of grief is unique and must be travelled ultimately alone, for no one can suffer for the individual who has lost, but rather that individual must find their own way, with God's help, to the other side. The support of those who love and care, sustain the individual on that journey, but they must face it alone.

Also, from the very beginning, I felt compelled to write my feelings and thoughts down; not only in private, for those things I just was not yet able to share, but also to share publicly what feelings I could, as I walked this path. Initially, this was a conscious effort on my part. What I wanted to do was keep Josh and my feelings to myself and not share them. But, I felt that if in some way I could share with others this process, that something good might come from all the tragedy. As I began to share, an amazing thing began to happen. I began the healing process. I know that at times if I go back and read what I have written, it is not apparent that there is healing taking place, but slowly, subtly, it is there.

Walking this road has also opened the door for me to communicate with others who are grieving. Just as there are many different circumstances that bring folks to the point of grief, there are also many different faces of grief. I talked to one lady who is very wise, loving, helpful and kind who does not cry over the loss of her husband. Sometimes, she said she feels as if there is something wrong with her. However, after communicating with her a bit more, I found out that her husband had suffered a long, drawn out illness and they had actually cried many tears together anticipating his departure. When that time finally came, she had finished crying. That does not make her grief "wrong". Neither is it wrong that she has found happiness and fulfillment after her husband's death.

I have also talked to a lady who lost her son, and she counts the days since his death, even though it has been a number of years. She cries a lot still and has trouble sleeping at night. Is she wrong to count the days, the weeks, the months and the years? Is she wrong to continue to cry over her loss? No. It is the way she makes her journey through grief.

There are blogs I read on the internet written by parents who have lost their children and who struggle to put life back together while feeling the deep void of their loss. They contemplate what is now the "new" normal. Although each story is different in so many ways, there are always things that strike me as I read these entries. I realize that the things I feel and what I am going through are "normal" for someone who has lost a child.

I guess my point is that grief is individual and can't be rushed. Just because one person is able to pick up the pieces and appear to move forward in a short amount of time, does not mean that is how everyone will be able to handle grief. Even though I have suffered the loss of a child, I still have not walked in the shoes of someone else who has also suffered that loss. They endure things that I may be able to understand in part, but I will never fully comprehend. Grief is individualized.

I have also found that bereavement, grief, and loss make many people very uncomfortable. Some will sever friendships rather than try to find a way to reach the person who is grieving. Others are afraid to talk about the loss and feel uncomfortable if it is mentioned. I try to remember to tell people "It's ok if something you say makes me cry, because the tears are part of the healing."

And, it is ok.

My husband, whom I am so thankful for, in the beginning of our grief, felt frustrated because he wanted to be able to "make it better". I learned to say to him, "It's ok."

"There is nothing you can do to make the pain go away, but you can hold me while I cry."

I think I needed to verbalize to him that I did not expect him to be able to take away my pain or stop my tears. When he heard that, he was able to just hold me and not feel like he needed to do anything else.

I also believe that one's approach in dealing with grief is individualized when it comes to receiving outside help through counselling and medication. It amazes me now as I look back and realize that Josh technically had not even passed on (he was still connected to life support) when I made the decision that I would face this grief "head on". While I believe professional counselling is greatly beneficial and I am not against it, I felt that I needed to face this grief, at least initially alone with God's help. Once again, that does not make someone else wrong who seeks counselling.

My pastor was good to come by and talk to me several times immediately after Josh's death. He has been good to check up on me periodically throughout the year to make sure that I am doing "all right". We have had some wonderful conversations and I have been able to share with him what is on my heart and what I am learning. Other than those half a dozen or so visits, I have chosen not to get counselling.

I also chose not to use sleeping pills or alchohol to help relax me. I certainly understand the need for those who do choose medication to help them sleep or help them cope with the trauma, but once again, for me, I needed to face this head on. I have learned that taking supplements with Calcium and Magnesium is a natural way to help me relax leaving my mind clear and my heart open for this journey that I am on.


As the journey continues, there are still days when I just find it impossible to function, but those days are farther and farther apart. Most days find me living "the new normal" and finding my way in this world without Josh. Does that mean I miss him less? Never. What it means is that I have made it through all the "firsts" of the first year living without him. It means that in the beginning I thought I could not even take another breath, but by God's grace, I did. Each breath showed me that I could live just one minute at a time. Those minutes turned into hours. Those hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months and a year finally passed. Now I know. I know that God will give me the strength to face each second and take each breath. I have the confidence that with Him all things are possible.

Here is an entry from that private journal also dated September 27th:

My heart seemed to die with my sons. Everything was like a fog and my heart beat so slowly. Today my heart is racing. Panic. Fear. More Panic. How can life go on? How can things be the same? How am I suppose to eat, sleep...............how am I suppose to breathe? The day to day must continue. There are meals to prepare, laudry to wash, house to clean, animals to tend to...........but how am I suppose to have the presence of mind to remember how to do those things. I start something and walk away. I go back and try to continue. I can't. I come back again and again and inch by inch, complete a task that should only take me minutes. My chest feels tight. My shoulders and back hurt. My thoughts race. I panic thinking the panic won't go away and that brings more panic.

And another entry:

Each thought seems disconnected, foreign, jumbled up inside my head. The thoughts come slowly at times, and then quickly. They are like pieces of a puzzle that are all mixed up, some of them turned over, other's spilling onto the floor and I must make an effort to pick them up. I am trying to arrange them...............trying to sort them out by shape and color, and put the one's with an edge in a seperate pile. I can't deal with the edges right now. Perhaps I will save the one's with edges for last. Or maybe, I will find the corner pieces and use them as a starting point. Someday I will be able to stop sorting, and start fitting all the pieces together. Then the picture will become clear, and front and center will be my heart.


I also felt tremendous pain over how Josh died and could not get peace due to the circumstance surrounding his death. I believe, although I will never be able to accept how he died, that I have come to a place where I have found peace. Since the one year anniversary of his death, I have come to the point where I have accepted that he was here on this earth for the length of time that God intended him to be. He learned everything he needed to learn, helped all those he was intended to help, loved all those he was meant to love, and completed all his tasks. While I do not believe that the way he died was an act of God, but rather an act of violence perpetuated by those with intent to do evil, I do believe that it was his time to go. That does not make the loss any less for those of us who know him and miss him, but it brings me peace knowing that he did not leave anything unfinished and now he lives where there is no heartache. I can rejoice in the fact that he has learned and achieved all that he was meant to achieve and though it appears to us that his time was "cut short", he in fact, completed his journey.

Throughout this year of grief my heart has often cried out to God in prayer. Some of those prayers have been written down. Some of those prayers have been spoken. Some of those prayers have come simply from my mind. Then, there are those prayers that I was never able to actually put words to. Those are the prayers that came from a heart that was so broken that thoughts and words could not be formulated but rather rose heavenword with each heart-wrenching tear as I lay curled in a fetal position and opened my heart to the Only One who can heal such pain. I took comfort in the words of the Psalmist many days and nights as I found strength in the fact that God is BIG ENOUGH to allow us to express our hearts to him with all the imperfections that we have. I came to realize that God is BIG ENOUGH to understand that we are limited in our faith and understanding and that when we cry out to Him with the "Why" and the "Where are you?" and "What were You thinking" and "How could you do this to me?" that he just loves us even more and wraps us in His arms and helps us get through it. He doesn't judge or codemn us for the pain that we are already going through because HE IS BIGGER THAN THAT!

Look at the words written by the Psalmist in Psalm 88. I have copied it here from THE MESSAGE transaltion. However, read it in any translation that you choose and note the words, the tone, the inflection and the pain. I find it amazing that these Psalms were preserved throughout history showing us the heartfelt pain that the writer(s) suffered, how they cried out to God and were HONEST about how they felt, and how they took comfort in the fact that God loved them and was there for them. These verses show me that GOD IS BIG ENOUGH and LOVING ENOUGH and UNDERSTANDING ENOUGH to handle our outbursts of hurt and even anger.

Psalm 88 (The Message)

Psalm 88
A Korah Prayer of Heman
1-9 God, you're my last chance of the day. I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
take notes on the trouble I'm in.
I've had my fill of trouble;
I'm camped on the edge of hell.
I'm written off as a lost cause,
one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
I'm a black hole in oblivion.
You've dropped me into a bottomless pit,
sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I'm battered senseless by your rage,
relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
made me horrible to them.
I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out,
blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

9-12 I call to you, God; all day I call.
I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

13-18 I'm standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I've been hurting;
I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
I'm bleeding, black-and-blue.
You've attacked me fiercely from every side,
raining down blows till I'm nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
the only friend I have left is Darkness.

What I love about Psalms is that it is so REAL and yet the answer to dealing with the pain is there as well. Over and over again in the Psalms there is a pattern of expressing pain, grief, anger, suffering and then the Psalmist begins turns a corner and begins to think about and dwell on the positive. He begins to praise God for His goodness. He begins to talk about nature and how beautiful it is. He begins to think about all his blessings. Therein lies the key to facing grief and dealing with loss. It's ok for one to express how they feel. In fact, I believe it is necessary to be honest about those feelings but then we must also recount all the blessings that we have.

At the risk of being misunderstood by others who might not want to think about grief, bereavment or loss................

At the risk of being misunderstood by those who might think that I write about these things in an attempt to seek attention or sympathy................

At the risk of being misunderstood by those who might think I am handling grief incorrectly..............

At the risk of feeling vulnerable by pouring out my heart to the world...........

I will continue to share my Journey Through Grief in hopes that something said here might encourage someone along the way just as others have encouraged me by sharing their journey.

To all of you who have held my hand and walked along beside me throughout this journey, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love you.

Faith says we will make it THROUGH and there is JOY on the other side.

And as I end this entry, I leave you with one final post from my private journal:

I am learning that although the pain never goes away, comfort and pain can coexist. Sadness and happiness can coexist. Peace and turmoil can coexist. Tears and smiles can coexist. Strength and weakness can coexist. Life and death can coexist.

Originally posted October 3, 2009

Rain

It remained over-cast all day yesterday and around dark it began to mist.

I smiled.

When Mike came home from playing basketball he said, "You know, it's really funny but it wasn't raining any where but right here."

I smiled.

When I woke in the middle of the night, I could hear the rain gently falling.

I smiled.

When I got out of bed around 4 am and went out on the deck and stood and the edge and lifted my face to the sky and let the gentle mist touch my cheeks.............

I smiled.

Originally posted September 17, 2009

Josh is Celebrating

Today marks one year free from sadness, pain or suffering for my precious son. I can see Joshua smiling that smile of his and giving everyone around him a big hug. I don't know if there are any guitars in heaven, but if there are, I know he has found one and will be playing music for everyone today.

While we who remain are filled with sorrow because our loss is so great our hope lies in the fact that we know Josh has no cause for sorrow, only for celebration.

For me, this day brings a lot of emotion. I am amazed that a whole year has gone by. I have learned that I can keep on going. I have learned that I can laugh again. I have learned that it's always ok to cry. I have learned to allow myself to be open and vulnerable and share my heart with others. I have learned that some folks embrace that sharing and that others turn from it. Something about the culmination of the "year after" is bittersweet. It makes me sad to know that it has already been a year since my son lived on this earth. Something inside me is afraid that others will forget. I don't want anyone to ever forget Josh. On the other hand, knowing that I have actually survived the first Thanksgiving, Christmas, New years, Valentines Day, Alissa's birthday, Easter, my birthday, Josh's birthday, Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall and a host of other important days without Josh being here, has given me the strength to know that I will be ok.

Today my heart hurts, but it's filled with overwhelming peace.

And Josh........................he knows only peace and joy. That's cause for celebration.

My dear son,

You continue to bless my life in your absence as much as you did when I was able to touch you, hear you and feel you with me. Just as living with you taught me so much, living without you is teaching me lessons that I never would have learned otherwise. I look forward to the day when we can be together once again. I pray that until that day, I have the strength to live a life that you would be proud of. I love you so much. I miss you.

Mom

Originally posted September 16, 2009

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today I sat in shock listening to the clock ticking away the seconds as my son's life hang in the balance. I was told it was pointless to fly to where he was 1000 miles away because he would probably be gone by the time I got there. When I received calls from his hospital room, I could hear the life support system and the rythm of his heart that was still beating. I remember focusing on that beating heart rather than the words that were being spoken to me. Yet, I knew in my heart, that he was already gone.

Today and tomorrow will be very difficult days for me. I appreciate your thoughts and prayers.

Originally posted September 15, 2009

I'm OK

I just want to preface this post with "I'm OK".

I really am OK. Yes, my heart is bleeding, hurting and broken and this month is a hard one to get through.

I am compelled to write of my feelings and my memories and while the grief is sometimes overwhelming, I want those of you reading my words to know that I am OK. However, I can't stop myself from writing. I must write. To hold it all inside would make me "Not OK".

Tonight I am thinking so many things. I am thinking about Josh's friend Sam who just started his first year of college. Sam and Josh were so close and had so many shared dreams. Sam keeps in touch with me and is such a good, good young man. I am so honored that he is part of my life. When I think of Sam, I think of Josh. I think of all the things he never got a chance to do.

My mind is a jumbled mess of mixed emotions and totally unrelated facts. Like the fact that my Christmas cactus has bloomed twice a year every year until the Christmas after Josh died. It did not bloom. I thought it might bloom around Easter, as it usually does, but it did not bloom again. I was looking at it today and wondering if it will bloom this year? I think it's appropriate that it did not bloom after Josh died but I wonder how long it will mourn?

And the clock keeps running through my mind. It's not my clock. It's an old antique mantel clock that my brother sent with me to see if Mike's dad could repair it. He got it working for a while and then it stopped. We could not get it to run. The night I got the call about Josh, I accidentally bumped the clock and it began to tick. As I set there for almost 24 hours waiting to hear that Josh had finally passed on from his wounds, I listened to each second pass as the clock ticked. Sometime after I got the word that Josh had passed away, the clock stopped. Mike was going to try to wind it and get it running again one day, but I stopped him. I can't stand to hear it ticking.................then again, I want to hear it tick.

Warm sunshine on a September day, reminds me of sitting at the grave site with the sun beating down on us. It was hot the day we put my son's ashes in the ground.

Apples will be ready soon and I will be canning apple sauce. Somehow last year I made it through several bushels of apples after Josh died. I am not sure how. I don't really even remember it. Josh loved apples. Even as a young child, a baby really, he would ask for an apple before asking for anything else. We have a video of him eating an apple (he was probably two) and then feeding the dog a bite before he took another.

I heard a noise the other day. It sounded like someone was in Josh's old room. I had to go in there and look around. I never go in there. Mikey had it after Josh and there is nothing left of Josh's in that room. When I went in, it smelled like Josh had been in there. How I wished that he were there! I had to leave the room. It hurt too badly being in there.

So many memories and so much pain. I will make it through this month. I have had so much support and love from so many people, near and far, those whom I have met and many I have never met. I am thankful for all of you.

Originally posted September 10, 2009

Lost In Translation

Lost in Translation

Andy McNeil

Words can never fully define
grief. That is because grief is an
experience and is not completely
comprehended until it is lived.
Grief quite often gets “lost in
translation” when we attempt to
share with others exactly what
grief is like. For this reason grief
can be a lonely journey, even
when others are around. We fear
bringing up our pain or even
talking about it because we really
do not know what to say or we reason that others must
be tired of hearing us whine anyway.
Although it can be difficult to share what grief is like to
others, it is still worthwhile. No, everyone will not
want to be invited along and you will be able to determine
who to invite. Certainly there will be those who
avoid you or change the subject or even give poor
advice, but there will also be those who listen and
learn. New friendships can be formed and old ones
rekindled when we attempt to share what grief is like
with others, no matter how difficult that might be.
One way we can share what grief is like is to relate our
grief to something others can understand by using
similes and metaphors.
“No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear.”
C.S. Lewis penned these words in his personal memoir,
A Grief Observed, which he published under the
pseudonym N.W. Clark following his wife’s death.
C.S. Lewis uses this simile to compare grief to the
experience of fear. I can just imagine that Mr. Lewis
was feeling the intense feelings of grief and wanted to
put this experience into words that others could
understand. Perhaps after some thought, he was able
to pen these words and capture some of the experience
of grief in this simple association. For although those
not encountering the death of a loved one cannot fully
understand grief, they can relate to the feeling of being
afraid, a universal experience we all share.
“Grief is a bad dream. One you cannot wake up from
no matter how hard you fight.” “Grief is like being at
the bottom of the ocean, you are all alone.” “Grief
feels like an elephant standing on your chest.” “Grief is
a lonely journey. No one can walk the road for you.”

These are just some of the metaphors and similes I
have heard from bereaved people over the years.
Relating our grief to something others can understand
is one way we can attempt to capture some of the
images that make up our grief. These are communication
tools we can use to bring others along with us as
we walk the road of grief. How would you describe
your grief? What metaphors or similes can you think
of that would help
others understand
you?
If you are grieving
and do not feel
understood by those
significant in your
life, take heart that you are not alone in the fact that
you are misunderstood. Grief is hard to explain to
someone who is not living our same reality. Make
attempts to share insights to your family and friends
using metaphors and similes that might increase their
understanding, but also recognize that grief must be
lived to be fully understood. It is difficult to hold
someone accountable to understand what you are
going through when most of the time words fall short
of describing your situation. Though it is frustrating at
times, continue to reach out to your family and
friends. Take them up on the help they offer and hold
fast to their friendship; most of the time you will be
grateful you did.
If you are someone who has not had a significant loss
and you are trying to be a friend to someone in grief,
offer your presence, love and patience. Quite often our
advice is not well received, because we are attempting
to advise someone about a situation for which we have
no context. Instead, listen to their descriptions and
attempt to understand what they are saying to gain
better insight. Do not give up on them and do not distance
yourself just because you do not understand
them or do not know what to say. On the contrary,
spend time with your friend and you will discover
opportunities to encourage them, to lift them up and
to hold fast for them as they experience the indescribable
profundity we call grief.
Lost in Translation Andy McNiel
Next Edition is May/June 2009
www.ameliacenter.org
No one ever told
me that grief felt
so much like fear.
C.S. Lewis

Taken from Tears to Hope Newsletter

Originally posted September 5, 2009

The Gap

Through the suggestion of a friend, I was reading the blog of a woman who lost her three year old daughter. She mentioned an article The Gap and I went on an internet search to find the article. In my search, I came across a number of articles that I will be sharing in the next few days. Perhaps they will not mean anything to those reading my blog, but they provide me with the confirmation that although grief is an individual journey, there is a common thread woven throughout. Maybe these articles will help someone else in their grief. Perhaps, they will even help build a bridge between those who have lost and those who have not.

The Gap

By Michael Crelinsten TCF, Victoria, British Columbia


Our daughter, Alexis, died six months ago, at the age of nine.
A rare medical anomaly, in a heart-rending wrench of our
innermost spirit, stole her from us in barely more than a
moment. Recently, I was at the beach near our home with
what remains of my soul – my son, Ethan. Our new puppy
romped with us. Beautiful weather, fresh salt air, gentle clear
water and sea lions barking in the distance. Perfect. Walking
back, I saw a sharp, rusted metal rod and thought to get it out
of the way. As I tossed it aside, it caught my thumb and cut
me. Perfect. Every moment of peace we have, cuts.
Everything that is, hones what is not.
The gap between those who have lost children and those who
have not is profoundly difficult to bridge. No one, whose children
are well and intact can be expected to understand what
parents who have lost children have absorbed, what they bear.
Our daughter now comes to us through every blade of grass,
every crack in the sidewalk, every bowl of breakfast cereal,
every kid on a scooter. We seek contact with her atoms – her
hairbrush, her toothbrush, her clothing. We reach for what
was integrally woven into the fabric of our lives, now torn and
shredded. What we had wanted, when she so suddenly took
ill, was for her to be treated. We wanted her to be annoyed
that her head had been shaved for surgery. We would have
shaved ours and then watched her smile as we recovered
together, whatever the nature of that recovery. “Recover” is no
longer a part of our vocabulary. Now we simply walk through
the noise and debris of our personal ground zero.
A black hole has been blown through our souls and, indeed, it
often does not allow the light to escape. It is a difficult place.
For us to enter there is to be cut deeply, and torn anew, each
time we go there, by the jagged edges of our loss. Yet we
return, again and again, for that is where she now resides.
This will be so for years to come and it will change us, profoundly.
At some point in the distant future the edges of that
hole will have tempered and softened but the empty space will
remain – a life sentence. It is not unlike a dog who, suddenly
hit by a car, survives. The impact is devastating and leaves the
animal in shock, confusion, and despair. In time the animal
recovers adequately to spend the remainder of its life on three
legs. It is not that he is unable, eventually, to function or even
to laugh and play. The reality, however, is that on three legs
from here on, every step he takes, every action, virtually every
breath reminds him of what he has lost. We are that animal.
Our community of friends will change through this. There is
no avoiding it. We grieve for our daughter, in part, through
talking about her and our feelings for having lost her. Some go
there with us, others cannot and, through their denial add a
further measure, however unwittingly, to an already heavy
burden. This was not a sprained ankle or major surgery that
we suffered. Assuming that we may be feeling “better” six
months later is simply “to not get it.” The excruciating and
isolating reality that bereaved parents feel is hermetically
sealed from the nature of any other human experience. Thus it
is a trap – those whose compassion and insight we most need
are those for whom we abhor the experience that would allow
them that sensitivity and capacity. And, yet, somehow, there
are those, each in their own fashion, who have found a way to
reach us and stay, to our immeasurable comfort. They have
understood, again each in their own way, that Alexis remains
our daughter through our memory of her. Her memory is sustained
through speaking about her and our feelings about her
death. Deny her life and you have no place in ours. That’s the
equation. How different people have responded to our loss, or
not, transcends a range of attitudes and personal histories. It
is teaching us much about human capacity and experience,
albeit at a searing price. Parents’ memories of a lost child sustain
that life. It should be the other way around.
We recognize that we have removed to an emotional place
where it is often very difficult to reach us. Our attempts to be
normal are painful and the day to day carries a silent, screaming
anguish that accompanies us, sometimes from moment to
moment. Were we to give it its own voice we fear we would
become truly unreachable, and so we remain “strong” for a
host of reasons even as the strength saps our energy and
drains our will. Were we to act out our true feelings we would
be impossible to be with. We resent having to act normal, yet
we dare not do otherwise. People who understand this dynamic
are our gold standard. Working our way through this over
the years will change us as does every experience – and
extreme experience changes one extremely. We know we will
have recovered when, as we read, it is not longer so painful to
be normal. We do not know who we will be at that point or
who will still be with us.
There will come a time, quite some number of years down the
road, when the balance between the desperate awareness of
what we have lost when our daughter died will be somewhat
balanced by the warm and joyful memories of what we had
with her when she lived. I neither long for nor cringe from
that time. It will simply come. We will recognize it – though
now it is beyond us.
So, yes, our beloved daughter is gone – a light in our lives gone
out leaving blackness for us, left behind, to stumble through.
And, while we understand and deeply feel the meaning of our
phrase “Now we are lit by her only from within,” we hope, desperately,
that she is wherever the light is. We are trying to
understand what this means, as we seek our own way, for the
remainder of our lives, to some kind of light. We love our son
and are trying to breathe.
We have read that the gap is so difficult that, often, bereaved
parents must attempt to reach out to friends and relatives or
risk losing them. This is our attempt. For those untarnished
by such events, who wish to know in some way what they,
thankfully, do not know, read this. It may provide a window
that is helpful for both sides of the gap.

http://www.ameliacenter.org/workfiles/AC/N2.pdf

Originally posted September 4, 2009

How Hard Can It Be?

How hard can it be to simply pick up the phone and order alter flowers for the Sunday before the anniversary of Josh's death? I have avoided making the call for days. While wanting to provide the flowers, I guess I don't want to face what they mean.

It reminds me of the day we put his ashes in the ground. I sat and listened at the grave side to the pastor speak words of comfort. Then, when the service was over, I could not get up. To get up would be to have to acknowledge that he was gone. I sat there for a long time with tears streaming down my face. Mike tried to get me to get up. I couldn't. I remember my grandmother coming over and in her gentle, strong way encouraging me to get up. I still could not do it. Mike came back again and put his arms around me. I remember him saying, "Your grandma knows how you feel." I remember shaking my head "yes" and getting up.

My grandmother knew because on September 19th, 1974 she lost her only child, my mother, in a horse riding accident. My grandmother's strength and absolute faith in God has been an inspiration to me throughout the years.

September will be a hard month for us.

Originally posted September 4, 2009

One Breath at a Time

After all most a year, I still can't figure out how I am ever going to live the rest of my life without my son. So, I just take it one breath at a time. One moment at a time I have made it through almost a year.

I decided in the beginning that I would not deny this pain but rather, I would embrace it when it overwhelmes me, allow myself to cry and grieve, and allow myself to remember. To deny the pain would only allow it to fester until it would erupt into something ugly. To face the pain and deal with it is hard but I know it is the right thing to do.

I did not want to dull the pain in any way by alchohol or medication. I have not touched either and have not allowed myself to escape the reality of the hurt I hold inside.

I have learned that I can laugh and find joy even with the deep abiding sorrow that is my constant companion. It can't be explained how such contradictory emotions can abide in the same heart.

While most moms my age are dealing with the empty nest syndrome and trying to find a new normal once their kids have moved out of the house and moved on with their lives, I am trying to find a new normal knowing that my child won't be coming home at Christmas, or on spring or summer break.

I cling to the hope that I have that assures me that Josh is in a better place and that time is of no importance to him there. To him, it will be but a breath and we will be together again. To me, the years will be long and my heart will ache, but when I see him again, there will be no more parting. I find my peace in that and my strength to take the next breath and make it through one more minute until the days, months and years slowly fade away.

Originally posted September 1, 2009

What Do Dreams Mean?

Dreams can sometimes shake us to our very soul. Do they have any real significant meaning? Or, are they just a chaotic mixture of all the crazy stuff going through our head? I am sure there must be scientist who have studied dreams and I know there are dream interpreters but how much can anyone really know about dreams? They are so personal and so unique. Most of them vanish when we wake and we never think of them again. Sometimes, they stick with us forever.

Does God use dreams to "speak" to us? Perhaps. I don't want to be too theological about the subject of dreams, but I know the Bible speaks of God using dreams to warn people of things to come or to speak to them in some way. So, would he speak to us the same way today? Maybe.

To say that we are touched by God in our dreams would probably leave most people shaking their heads and running in the opposite direction as they would think that we have lost our minds. However, I do feel that I have been touched in that way. Sometimes those dreams have been disturbing and foreshadowed something terrible that was to come. I had a terrible dream the night that Josh died. In fact, I "saw" the murder in my head and woke myself up before the phone rang at 2:30 am to tell me that he had been shot and was dying. There is no logical way to explain why my brain would know what was happening before my ears even received the message.

Years ago, I had a dream that I was being taken out of this world. I could feel my spirit rising to meet my Maker and I begged Him to let me live a little longer because I had two children to nurture and protect. I felt a peace as in my dream my spirit began to settle back to earth. I held on to that dream for many years when things go bad around me and life was such a struggle. I felt it was God's way of telling me that my purpose was to be here for my children who needed me.

After Josh died, I had dreams where I would be talking to him and he would tell me that he loved me. The dreams were so real and I would wake realizing he was no longer on this earth but at the same time, with the feeling that I had just been able to spend time with him in some way.

When Alissa had to leave shortly after Josh's death and go out of state, I could hardly stand the thought. On the way to the airport, I fell into a deep sleep and I saw Josh getting on the plane with her. When I woke sobbing, I was both hurting and comforted at the same time.

Last night I had a dream. In my dream I could hear Joshua talking and he sounded like he needed me. I began to go up a flight of steps but then began to rise without touching the steps. I stopped myself and made myself touch the steps and climb up them. When I got to the top, there was a whole loft full of happy young boys that I did not recognize who were playing board games, laughing and having a great time. There was Josh playing a game with a friend. I could only stand on the steps. I could not go onto the loft. Josh just smiled at me and indicated that he was fine, that he was happy, that he was at peace, and that he was hanging out with his friends. I went to go to him but he started walking away. I cried out for him to return but he said he had to go, not to worry and to go back to Alissa because she needed me.

I woke with the realization that it was only a dream and yet it felt as though I had just spent time with my son.

Just a dream? Perhaps.

Maybe it means nothing but then again, God can use anything for His purpose, even dreams.

Originally posted August 15, 2009

A Message From Josh

I found a journal today that Josh wrote in from the second through the fourth grades. Mostly it was filled with misspellings and poor grammar because Josh was dyslexic and had a number of learning disabilities. Writing was such a struggle for him. Yet, writing was his passion. I had to laugh at the entries where he wrote "Mom is so mean" because I was making him do his homework. He talked about his dog, Max. He spoke of family vacations and how much he missed his grandparents after we moved from Alaska. He wrote of various daily activities. Most of his entries were written in letter form and directed to his teacher or to his parents. Then I came across a precious entry. It was a message from Josh to his great grandparents.

To: Nan and Pa
From: Josh

All the wind will hear you cry and my love will watch you forever.

Originally posted July 29th, 2009

Ten Months

It has been ten months to the day since Josh left this world. Even when I try not to think about it, I find that subconsciously, the 16th of every month always weighs heavy on my mind. I have found that it is better to face it with acknowledgement, rather than try to pretend that it hold no significance.

I really am ok. I hurt so badly but God has given me the strength to face each day knowing that He is holding my hand. Life has not stopped for me even with the pain, and I contribute that to God's grace and to the fact that I have faced things head on each step of the way. Rather than try to hide from the pain with sedatives or other forms of medication or alcohol, I have faced each wave of pain and let it wash over me. It's like the tide coming in and going out. Sometimes the waves come fast, and it's all I can do to stand up against the tide. Other times, the ocean of pain is still, and I can look out and observe the beauty on the horizon. That horizon truly is beautiful for there is no pain, suffering or separation on that horizon.

So, I face this day...........the 16th............with strength and hope that someday I will see my precious baby again. I will never stop missing him and the pain will never truly subside, but each month I face that tide, I become stronger.

Originally posted July 16, 2009

And Still It Rains

All night and day it rained. This evening coming in from checking on the animals for one last time, it was a light mist brushing my cheeks................butterfly kisses.

Originally posted June 17, 2009

It Had To Rain

It had to rain today. I knew it would. I knew that by some crazy twist of fate that when this date came that it would rain.

It was one year ago this month that Josh and Alissa left with high hopes and dreams. Two young people in love with life and ready for the adventure that it would bring. As a mother, I knew I had to let them go. When I kissed and hugged Alissa and told her goodbye, my heart ached. When I kissed and hugged Josh, I clung to him and I cried. Was there something subconscious telling me not to let him go? I had no choice. He went.

Nine months ago today Josh left this world. I never got to see him again. I never got to hold him in my arms and kiss and hug him again.

Josh loves the rain. I knew it would rain today.

I love you, Josh!

Originally published June 16, 2009

A Walk In The Rain

We have been experiencing drought conditions for the past two years. However, things have changed now. We have been getting an abundance of rain. The rain can make the outside chores difficult at times and cleaning muddy udders before milking the cows can be an adventure, to say the least. But, we can't complain about the rain. The hay is growing, the garden is growing, the grass is growing and everything is very green.

It seems I am always getting caught out in the rain. Instead of getting irritated with the muddy mess and with what seems like constant down-pours that leave me soaked to the skin more often than not, I have begun to see the rain as kisses from heaven.

You see, Josh loved the rain. I have mentioned before how he would run outside the minute it would start raining and take a walk. The harder it rained, the more he liked it. He would lift his face to the sky and let the rain drops brush his cheeks and soak his skin. What most people avoided in the weather, he welcomed and embraced. Perhaps it was the memory of the times when he was a child and I took him for walks in the gentle spring rains that made him seek out even the greatest downpour. I mean, if a little bit of rain is good, then a torrential rain is even better, right?

My son I am convinced is talking to the Father and saying, "Send some more rain. My mom needs to feel it on her skin. She needs to look up to the sky and let the water wash over her face. She needs to feel the gentle drops on her cheeks."

And the rains keep coming. I convinced that there is some lesson here that I am suppose to learn. This journey I am on of deep sadness and overwhelming loss is a walk in the rain. So, I lift my face and I inhale the air around me. I breathe. I contemplate my life and the life of the child to whom I gave birth who now lives in heaven. I remember all the special times we shared. I embrace the rain.

I cry, but I smile. Sometimes, I even laugh. One day, I even found myself speaking outloud and laughing as the thunder rolled and the rain soaked through my jacket, "Ok, I accept the rain and I will learn to laugh in spite of it, Josh." I see his smile sometimes just like he was standing beside me again.

Those rain drops.................they are little kisses. Each rain drop is a kiss sent down to me from heaven from my precious son. I no longer run from the rain and try to avoid it.

I taught Josh to walk in the rain, now he is teach me to do the same.

This has been a hard week. The grieving process is a long road and I am learning to put my life back together a little at a time. But still I know, it will never be the same. Some days are better than others and some days are just downright hard. I had my 42nd birthday yesterday and it was a wonderful day filled with phone calls, emails and cards from a lot of people sending their love and best wishes. Yet, I missed that one birthday wish, that one "I love you" and that one hug from my son. The best part of my whole day was when Alissa came by and I got to hold her in my arms for a prolonged hug. It was good just to feel her there inside my embrace. That was the best birthday present ever. I just wish that I could have held Josh one more time as well.

Josh's best friend as well as other friends are graduating. Had Josh not taken his GED and finished last year, he would be graduating this year as well. I can help but imagine his excitment over his best friend's graduation. I can just hear him calling me on the phone to tell me all about it. Josh was always so proud of his friend's acheivements.

It's a hard week. I missing you really bad, Josh. I'm learning though and I am trying to be strong, buddy.

I love you,

Mom

Originally published May 29, 2009

Seven Months

It's been seven months today since you went away. Although I have learned better how to manage the pain, I still miss you very much. For a moment, yesterday, it was almost as if you were still here. I caught myself expecting to hear your door creak as it opened and to see you come around the corner on your way to work. I miss you, Sweetheart, but I know you are in a better place.I imagine you sitting at the Father's feet and playing your guitar with that big smile on your face. While it seems a long time for us who remain, for you, it is but a moment until we are reunited face to face.

I love you, Josh.

Mom

Originally posted May 16, 2009

Memories

It's funny the memories that come at the strangest times and the overwhelming grief ensued.

Shaved heads.

Fuzzy, closely shaved heads.

Josh always wore his hair short and I loved to rub his head. "Awe, Mom, do you have to rub my head?""Yes," I would reply. I HAVE to rub your fuzzy head. He would roll his eyes but smile. I would smile. I miss rubbing that fuzzy head.

Ripe Olives.

He called them "thumbs". When he was little, he would place them carefully on each finger and then eat them off, one at a time. He didn't know they were called "olives", he simply called them "thumbs". As a teenager, he would still do this trick and I would roll my eyes and he would smile.

Boiled eggs.

Josh didn't liked them deviled, but loved them boiled and whole. Every plate of eggs I made, I left a few whole in the center just for Josh. I made deviled eggs this weekend, but there was no one here to eat the whole ones.

I miss you, buddy. I miss you so much!

Originally posted February 9, 2009

What is it called?

When a man looses his wife,
He is called a widower.
When a woman looses her husband,
She is called a widow.
When a child looses her parents,
She is an orphan.
But when a parent looses his child…
There is no name for this type of pain.
It is hard to live and has no name.

~Major Bloomberg

Dealing with Grief

It has become evident to me as I walk this path after Josh's death, that the road of grief is one that must be travelled individually. I do not mean to say that we must travel this road alone. On the contrary, I have had many people helping me to bear this burden of grief. I am not alone. However, there are many times, though surrounded by friends and loved ones that I must face the moment and meet grief face to face in solitude. I don't believe there are any two people that will face grief exactly the same and although there are obvious wrong ways to handle any situation, there are many right ways to grieve. Well meaning people have made remarks on both ends of the spectrum. I have had those who feel I am not handling my grief well and I have had others tell me that they are amazed at my strength at such a time as this. True to my nature, I have tried to be open and honest about my grief. I feel that honesty is the only way to handle one of the most difficult things that life throws at us. (Isn't it ironic that the most difficult thing that life throws at us is death?) When all is said and done, I have to follow this path of grief to the end, and no one can tell me what I must do to handle the grief successfully. For me, I must cry when I feel like crying. I must laugh when I feel like laughing. I must remember the happy, precious memories of my son and I must hold on to the dreams of have of him smiling and happy. You can't rush grief and you can't pretend it does not exist. At the same time, my joy comes from knowing that my son does not feel grief and that he is happy and a peace in the arms of the Father. Josh does not suffer. It is only those of us who are left behind who weep.................who suffer from the loss of one we love so dearly.

Yes, I have days when I can hardly function because of the pain that grips my heart and consumes my physical body. I also have many more days when I face life head on and look for the best and hold to all that is positive.

One of my favorite places to go in my heart is to the Father's arms. I know that my Heavenly Father loves me dearly but I have never allowed myself to be completely enveloped in His love until I lost my son. Now, in my very darkest moments I imagine myself wrapped in the arms of the Father. There are days when I feel that I can't even see His face, but then I was reminded that when a small child is held firm in the arms of their parent with the child's face tight against the parents chest for protection from the elements, that the child is unable to see the face of the one who holds them, but rather feels the arms of the parent protectively surrounding them. In my darkest hours, I visualize myself wrapped in the arms of the Heavenly Father, with my head against His chest.

Grief is not something to shun, ignore, or be dishonest about. Grief is an opportunity to experience the Father's love in a way that we have never experienced it before, as we learn to take each day one breath at a time.

Originally posted December 14, 2008

Dreams

Often, when I become stressed over the legal proceedings regarding Josh's death, I have dreams. When Josh first passed away, I was afraid that I would have nightmares. Thankfully, instead of nightmares, God has blessed me with sweet dreams of my precious son.

The boy who killed Josh was in court today and things were postponed once again. All of this must have been heavy on my heart and mind as I went into this week. I find myself not focusing on the real issue, but I can feel the pressure mounting as the court dates arrive.

Last night in the midst of my stress I dreamed of Josh. In my dream I wrapped my arms around him over and over again and told him how much I love him. He always responded with a joyful look, a smile in his eyes and a hug in return.

Someday, that dream will come true and I will wrap my arms around him once again and hold him close.

Originally posted December, 10, 2008

One Month

It just does not seem real that one whole month could have passed since my baby boy went to Heaven. To me, it seems like just one long, sad day since his passing.




The wonderful thing is, that although the minutes, hours, days, months and years seem long to us, time means nothing to God. Although I know God hurts when we hurt, I can't help but think that He is saying to us that although the time seems long that we on earth must be separated from our loved one's in Heaven, we are just a breath away.




Loving you always, Josh.




Mom

Originally posted October 16, 2008

Life Doesn't Stop When You Lose Someone You Love

It has been very hard for me to make any posts that are not associate with Josh. There have been days when I would pull up my blog to make an entry and I would see Josh's smiling face and I just couldn't post anything.

Although I will miss Josh and think of him every day, and although my heart is so heavy most of the time, and although the tears still flow easily and frequently, and although I still stumble through my days trying to get my act together..............life does go on.

I must find a balance in my grief so that I can be all that my remaining family and loved ones need for me to be. With that in mind, it is time for me to continue my entries in my blog..................

Joshua, I love you so much! I carry your memories close to me and my heart will always have an empty place until I reach Heaven and can be with you once again.


Mom

Originally posted October 7, 2008

Memories are Golden

Tis said memories are golden
But we never wanted memories
we only wanted you

Alissa's Tribute

Alissa's Tribute Originally posted on my other blog on September 25, 2008

My daughter, Alissa, wrote the following poem about her struggles with grief and her love and hope.


I keep walking on,
Shoulders hunched,
Head down,
The hood on my dark jacket up,
The weather pefectly reflecting my mood.
Rain......sadness pouring from a rumbling blackened sky,
The river roaring in its anger, like me, pushing forward.

I see birds soaring,
Enjoying themselves,
Sweeping, diving, calling to each other,
Just enjoying the moment.

I push on
Still full of sadness and anger.
As I walk on,
I catch a glimpse of color
Out of the corner of my eye.
A Rainbow,
Faint, but there in the darkened sky,
Ending on a mountain top on one side
And disappearing into the town on the other.

Instantly, I was filled with hope,
My anger rolled away,
Slowly with the clouds.
My sadness dried up with the rain
Only a gentle mist of remembrance lingered.
My end of the rainbow moment God gave me
To remind me to push through the storms of life.

At the end there will be a rainbow.


Last year, Joshua gave me a prism. It sits in my dining room window, but the angle of the sun was not right to "catch the rainbow". Since Josh's death, the angle of the sun has been right and I have rainbows scattered across my walls and floor every morning reminding me of my precious son.

I miss you, Josh. I love you,

Mom

My Son Is At Peace In Heaven

Joshua Marlin Hall, born July 27, 1990, went home to be with Jesus on Sep. 16, 2008.

Joshua is survived by his parents Greg A. Hall of Avon,Colorado and Tammy Renee' Cupp of Staunton, Virginia; paternal grandparents Richard & Kay Hall of Lynchburg, Virginia; maternal grandparents LeBron & Helen Holbrook of Fredericktown, Missouri; maternal great-grandparents Marlin and Neva Starnes of Summerville, GA; and a sister Alissa Joy Hall of Staunton, VA. He is also survived by his step father S. Michael Cupp, a step-sister Kristin Cupp, a step-brother Mike Cupp, uncles, aunts, cousins and many extended family members and friends who love him very much.

Joshua was proceeded in death by his paternal great-grandparents Joshua & Tula Stephens and his maternal grandmother, Beverly Starnes Holbrook.

Memorial Services will be Sunday Sep. 21, 2008 at 2:00 P.M. at Thomas Road Baptist Church, Pate Chapel, with Pastor Jonathan Falwell, and Pastor Tom Frietas officiating.


Joshua went home to be with Jesus and now lives in peace in a place where there is no more pain or suffering.

Joshua was born July 27, 1990 and shared a birthday with his maternal grandfather, LeBron Holbrook. He was named Joshua Marlin in honor of his great grandfathers, Joshua Stephens and Marlin Starnes.

Joshua was born in Fairbanks, Alaska and lived in Delta Junction, Alaska for many years with his parents.

Josh enjoyed writing stories, and various types of music and art. He was involved in drama programs while attending Fort Defiance High School.

Joshua loved his friends and was always available to help them in any way that he could. He would talk to them for hours on the phone if they were dealing with a problem. He would give them any material possession he owned if they wanted it, and he freely gave of his money if he felt someone was in need. He loved to buy small, sometimes silly spur of the moment gifts for his loved ones just to show them that he cared.

One of Josh's best friends from grade school had a serious case of cancer. Josh did whatever it took to visit and keep in touch with his friend throughout his illness. He was faithful to his friend for over eight years as the friend struggled with cancer. When Joshua found out that his friend was cancer free, he was filled with excitement and could not contain his joy. Being there for those he loved was as natural as breathing to Joshua.

Josh loved the outdoors, camping, and had a soft spot in his heart for animals. Animals seemed to sense something in Joshua that attracted them to him. He was thoughtful and reflective and longed to make right the wrongs in the world.

Joshua loved to walk in the rain. No matter what time of the day or night, if it began to rain, Joshua would run outside with a smile on his face and let the rain soak him. He would come inside tracking up the floors and smile that Josh smile as if the rain had washed away all his cares.

Joshua was teaching himself to play the guitar and would practice for hours on end. Any free moment he had, we would find Joshua strumming on his guitar and sharing with someone something new he had learned or a song he was working on.

Joshua's passing has left a deep void in my heart and I miss him very much. I know he is at peace now and I look forward to one day holding him in my arms again.

I love you, Josh.

Mom