Written by Emily Dickenson

I measure every
 Grief
 I meet
With narrow, 
probing, eyes – 
I wonder if It 
weighs like Mine – 
Or has an Easier 
size.

I wonder if They 
bore
 it long – 
Or did it just
 begin – 
I could not tell
 the Date of Mine – 
It feels so old a pain – 

I wonder if it
 hurts
 to live – 
And if They have
 to try – 
And whether –
 could
 They choose between – 
It would not be 
– to die – 

I note that Some –
 gone patient long – 
At length, renew
 their smile –  
An imitation of a
 Light
That has so little Oil – 

I wonder if when
 Years have piled –  
Some Thousands –
 on the Harm –  
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them 
any Balm –  

Or would they go 
on aching still
Through Centuries 
of Nerve – 
Enlightened to a 
larger Pain –  
In Contrast with
 the Love –  

The Grieved – are many – I am told –  
There is the 
various Cause –  
Death – is but one – 
and comes but once –  
And only nails the eyes –  

There's Grief of Want – and grief
 of Cold –  
A sort they 
call "Despair" –  
There's 
Banishment 
from native Eyes – 
In sight of
 Native Air –  

And though I may 
not guess the 
kind –  
Correctly – yet 
to me
A piercing 
Comfort
 it affords
In passing 
Calvary –  

To note the fashions – of 
the Cross –  
And how they're 
mostly worn –  
Still fascinated
 to presume
That Some – 
are 
like
 my own – 

Sometimes we pick or choose something to represent a day that seemed so perfect so we will always remember how we felt. At the time it seemed like something so small. 7 years later that stone bought with I Love you written will be a constant reminder and treasure that day existed. I’m so greatful my son embraced all those moments in his life. He took a simple day and attached something special to everything he did.

One think I have learned…….Surround yourself always with the people who show up for you. The rest dont worry about.

The most important thing I’ve learned since losing my son is to be the light for others. He was my light every day.

Photo by Billy Dehmer at Westbury Gardens of his daughter

It’s funny how when our life is aligned we go through each month without much thought to it. We know when it is over, it will come around again. When we lose a child each season is magnified by looking back to every event that took place. It’s how we stay alive in the past and never let go.

For all that feel too much, internalize everything, expect the same in return, who are easily disappointed, worry what people think, a people pleaser and run out to get that little gift for someone just to see them smile…….never stop being who you are. It will be the thing people will always remember most about you when you are gone.

Picture by Moondragon (artist)

We are no longer the people we once were when we survive such a great loss, especially that of a child. The complexity of multiple layers of grief are so hard to define. Only those that have experienced it will actually ever be the ones that will understand. I am no longer who I was. I’ve become a master of replicating the person that once existed in order to fit back into life.

Quoted from Still Standing

This crappy club called child loss is a club I never wanted to join, and one I can never leave, yet is filled with some of the best people I’ve ever known.

And yet we all wish we could jump ship– that we could have met another way– any other way but this.

Alas, these shining souls are the most beautiful, compassionate, grounded, loving, movers, shakers and healers I have ever had the honor of knowing.

They are life-changers, game-changers, relentless survivors, and thrivers — warrior moms and dads who redefine the word brave.

Every day loss parents move mountains in honor of their children gone too soon. They start movements, change laws, spearhead crusades of tireless activism.