One Blogger’s Truth

While I share my truth as I know it there is a reticence about this process that has bound me…and gagged me in a way. I think that this may apply to others who have willingly shared their hearts on a blog that either gets read or it doesn’t. Some bloggers belong to Facebook ( I don’t do Facebook) and they link their blogs to it and other sites. I have only one blog: WordPress.  My heart is emptied, flaws and all, in this space. I am not Linkedin or Twitterpated, either. I invite only those interested by way of tags. To blog has been a kind of healing for me because I have not only reached out to find help I believe I may help others in the process.

While I have shared this painful truth of death and the slowness of processing its effects, I have shared how my faith has helped me. My story comes out a little at a time as I write and delete. Sometimes I find myself being overly cautious about what I share because there are family members who are part of my story that may not want to be mentioned. But, I don’t want to use my writing instrument as a slashing tool to excise parts of what makes my story whole, either. I also don’t share the other griefs in my life only because the one I blog about is THE ONE that will never be forgotten and has changed me in ways I can’t explain.

I read recently this quote:   “Grief lasts a lifetime, sympathy does not.”

Long after the Sympathizers have stopped their condolences, stopped their prayers, stopped coming by, stopped remembering, just stopped…you still have your loss…you still have your memories…you are still grieving even though it has been 2 weeks, 2 years, 2 decades, etc… “Grief lasts a lifetime.” This is my truth after all is said and done, after everyone has abandoned and gone their separate ways. I am stuck in a truth of loss and recovery. In the news when a tragedy is being reported either one of these words is used: “rescue” is used when there is the hope of saving a life, “recovery” is used in reference of finding a body. In the newness of my loss, people were quite willing to “rescue” me with words of comfort and their vigilant care. Now, that five years have passed, “recovery” seems to be a vague synonym to “get over it and move on, after all, we have.”  While no one wants to be in the pain of grief forever, it would seem “that it is (I hate this phrase) what it is.” It does subside in a way that is inexplicable, but it has a strange life, like a cancer, of reappearing in an underlying, metastasized state. The smile you worked so hard on one day can transform into a reminder of all that once was before smiling became such an effort.

The pain of living as a mother of a dear son whose manner of death has been ruled a suicide is how I seem to define myself to myself and on this blog. No one outside my ‘cyberspace confidants’ has privy to the things I share here unless I allow them in this hallowed territory of Truths. Cyberspace is a vastness that will always be there…like the stars…the universe…the black hole….I envision this text to be like floating debris in a space where it can never be contained but can be summoned just the same by those who know how to draw it to them. Grief itself seems endless and harsh in its unrelenting presence. It is its own black hole.

God knows my truths and those things I omit. I am a  careful editor of what needs to be said and what does not. Some days I am tempted to just go berserk and rant to the heavens….and maybe I have done that but even when it looks like I have….I really have not. When I spouted off to those who were part of my son’s life and death in a rant they will never read or even hear, I probably could have said so much more. My truth is the absence of my precious son and my words are the tangibleness of what I can no longer have.

My blog, my words, my truth,  have weight in their cyber condition. They can touch, they can take on their own life in the heart of another mom, dad, sister, brother who mourn. I can wield my words to execute hope, to offer condolences, to help bear the unbearable, to grieve miserably to an unknown audience, to share my faith and to remember. There is power in the transformation of my truth, as it ebbs and flows, and my willingness to share or not to share it.



9 thoughts on “One Blogger’s Truth

  1. Dale, how beautifully, beautifully written this is; thank you. I keep wanting to ask, how are we supposed to do this? Every day, every day without them; how? I know you haven’t any answers, I know it’s a breath at a time. But I’m so tired of saying that. I feel mute with grief sometimes – I’ve talked about it in so many different ways, and I’m still raw. It’s frightening that they were here one minute, and not the next, that these awful feelings are going to be here for the rest of life. Losing a child leaves you lonely in a way that can’t be helped.

    But if I have to do this, I’m grateful you’re around to help. Peace to you, my friend xoxoxoxoxo

    • Thank you, Denise. I wish I did have the answer. I wish there had been another kind of trial for the both of us besides this insufferable grief of losing a child. But if I had the answers I would be a phenomenon. I do have faith in God but that does not make this hurt go away. It does, however, give me hope that life is forever, and that God is the one who does lift me up. I look for Him in everything. I look for His signs and miracles. It is how I come to any kind of peaceful conclusion about this life and its griefs. It is a God thing. This life is not the end even though this grief will trail us like a shadow to our graves…Christ had victory over the grave and that is where our hope lies. Believe this. I am grateful for your friendship and pray that you can find peace and signs all along the way. I love ya!!! Believe that.

      • You said it so well. The pain of grief rides with us everyday and at times it seems as new as ever. My husband said this morning how losing his child has ruined him. I said yes I know the big hole that is left. The grief and whys and the pain and the tears will always be on us.

  2. I do not know this kind of grief and cannot imagine it but I do know grief and, yes, it goes on and on. One thing I have noticed with my own situation with Anthony (husband) in nursing home is that nobody asks me how he is anymore and, when I begin to talk about him, I get people changing the subject as soon as they can. I imagine this happens to you and it would be like a slap in the face. Sending you much love – I do understand in my small way, but I cannot begin to know what it would feel like to lose my child. I salute you for this wonderful blog of yours because it helps those of us who have not experienced this kind of horrific loss to understand a tiny bit of what you go through every minute of every day. Jx

  3. You are a jewel, Julie. YES!! Grief comes in all shapes and has a lasting effect that consumes. You have experienced grief because you love and have lost….and by “lost” I mean what you used to have. Anthony is not the Anthony you married and you are watching him change right before your eyes into a condition that has rendered him helpless. You have assumed a new role not only as a doting wife but as doting caregiver.
    It is loss just the same and in no way a “small way.” If I have learned anything about grief is that it cannot nor should it be compared. In the beginning, though, you could not have convinced me of that. I was alone in a world that could not possibly understand what I was going through. Of course, since blogging, I have learned the grief that many face each day as I do. Your blog is a bright spot….I have adopted Ming and love hearing of his antics and the love you both share for each other and Ants. I have you in my heart and pray that you continue to be strong in the face of adversity. From across the waters….many blessings.

  4. Well said, Dale! It can be cathartic to journal; I find that blogging helps me to zero in on what is most important to me. Like you, I am on none of the social media sites…feeling that God will direct those He wants to read my blog, and that is the biggest reason I started to blog…Getting word out that my toddler Michael said, “Going HOME-to be with Jesus!” (-starting 2 weeks before my family was killed).

    Keep up the “Good” work, my friend!

    • Donna, i believe that God did direct me to you (or you to me) so you could share with me your testimony about little Michael….wonderful words to my heart. Love to you and Brandon bear hugs to you!

  5. Dearest Dale,
    Those who have not lost a loved one or family member don’t understand that grieving doesn’t end. It may change shape or color or intensity, but we always carry it with us. Even the emotions from the death of a parent decades ago surface at the most unexpected times. Those who ask us to “get over it,” or who avoid conversations about our loss suffer from their own fears.They do not wish to see themselves in the mirror of our sorrows.

    You are a courageous and transparent warrior for those who need to know they are not alone in their questions, in their anger and in their grief. Yet you provide a shelter of love, hope and compassion through your willingness to allow God to use you to reach others whose hearts are broken.

    Bless you.

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