Blessing for Bereaved Mothers

To mothers who experienced the joy of pregnancy but never got to hold their tiny babies, we offer the blessing of love and compassion. Your child will never be forgotten.

To mothers who brought precious sleeping children into this world, we offer the blessing of a fully awakened love. Your child will never be forgotten.

To mothers whose babies experienced the beauty of infancy but not the joy of childhood, we offer the comfort of sweet memories. Your child will never be forgotten.

To mothers who lovingly cared for their children but never had the opportunity to guide them through adolescence, we offer the blessing of recognizing the love and nurture you poured into them. Your child will never be forgotten.

To mothers whose children reached their teen years but didn’t live to experience young adulthood, we offer the blessing of acknowledging the difference they made in this world. Your child will never be forgotten.

To mothers whose young adult children didn’t live to fulfill all the promises their lives held, we offer the blessing of comfort in knowing their lives mattered. Your child will never be forgotten.

To mothers whose older adult children lived much of life but not all of the life they had hoped for, we offer the blessing of knowing they left a beautiful imprint on this world. Your child will never be forgotten.

To these beautiful mothers: We offer our love. We see you. We hear you. We hold you close to our hearts. You and your beautiful children will never be forgotten.

Still Learning and Forever Grateful

I’ve facilitated grief support groups for over thirty-five years, but I’m not an expert. I am a learner and always will be. I sit with our clients, actively listen, and learn from each one who shares their story. They teach me more than any book, professor, or seminar ever could. I listen without judgment and with a deep, sincere interest in their personal, one-of-a-kind grief journey. I am present to bear witness to their pain and to offer unconditional acceptance, compassion, understanding, confidentiality, and hope.

It’s hard for me to talk about how much my work means to me. I immediately tear up when I share how honored I am to get to walk alongside children, teens, and adults who are grieving. I am incredibly humbled that they invited me to walk with them on their journey. I am unbelievably touched as I listen to their most intimate, most personal thoughts and feelings about the death of their loved one.

When I first began this work, I tried my very best to fix each person’s grief. I thought there surely must be the perfect words to take away their pain. I tried and tried to find those words or some other way to comfort them enough that their pain would quickly disappear so they could return to their “normal” lives. Along the way, they taught me that “normal” is gone and that grief is a life-long experience. They showed me that embracing and processing their sorrow paves the road to healthy grief.

I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I was when I finally learned I am not responsible for healing grief. I can’t fix grief. I can’t talk it away. I can’t pray it away. I can only slow down and focus on being present with those who need someone to see and hear them. I can do this. I can see their pain. I can hear their pain. This is what I can offer. And this is enough.

I am still learning, and our very patient clients are still teaching me. I am so very grateful for each one of them. They continue to mold me into a more compassionate and understanding person. They continue to teach me how to see and hear them in a way that lets them know they are not alone. I am here for them, and I am so very, very honored and humbled to walk beside them on their journey.

The Privilege Of Innocence

We were nearing the end of our support group meeting when a parent shared that they now understood the privilege of innocence. They explained they didn’t realize how privileged they were to have not known such profound grief. They were innocent of the knowledge of the intense pain one feels when someone so deeply loved dies. They knew nothing of the incredible strength it took just to get out of bed each morning. They now understood and longed to return to the privilege of innocence when their child was still alive.

This precious, grieving parent opened my eyes to the realization that one of the most life-changing losses we experience when a loved one dies is the privilege of innocence—longing for the life we had before death holds its own grief. Life may not have been perfect, but it was complete because we shared it with our loved ones. The weight of grief didn’t crush life, the longing and yearning for someone we love so deeply. Life was innocent.

We often talk in our groups about the Get Its, and the Don’t Get Its. There is no way to understand the heartache and challenges of grief until we personally experience the death of someone we love. The cost of becoming a Get It is incredibly high. We suddenly lose the privilege of innocence and enter a world of awareness that is filled with confusion, numbness, and disbelief that deconstructs life as we know it.

As you adjust to the loss of your privilege of innocence, it’s important to know you will also adjust to your new awareness. You will get through the most intense seasons of your grief. It’s not a question of “if” you can do it. You already are.

The Beautiful Pain of Love

Love is beautiful and life-giving but can also be cocooned in pain and heartache.

When we experience the death of someone we cherish, the love we have for them becomes intensely painful. Love that hurts so profoundly and deeply is called grief. Grief and love are intrinsically connected. Grief is love displayed in one of its rawest, most soul-wrenching forms.

The depth of our grief is determined by the depth of our love and relationship with the person who died. We sometimes feel guilty when we recognize we aren’t experiencing the same level of pain we experienced when someone else we love died. We feel we should be sadder, more heartbroken. It’s likely our relationship with the one we grieve more deeply was closer and more intimate. It’s natural for grief to be more difficult and hurtful when we lose someone with whom we have a very deep relationship.

The pain will become less intense over time if we embrace our grief and allow ourselves to truly process it. Contrary to what society teaches us, being strong isn’t ignoring our grief or quickly “moving on.” True strength is hugging the cactus of grief, experiencing the pain, and discovering ways to manage it, not run from it.

As we journey through grief, it’s important to remember love is both beautiful and painful. It’s also important to remind ourselves loving another so deeply is worth every ounce of pain we experience when we lose them. The beautiful pain of love is the gift we share with those we hold dear. What a privilege to love another so deeply!

A Great Past Year . . . A Great New Year

What a great year this is going to be at the Grief and Loss Center! We are thrilled to continue working with our current clients and to welcome new children, teens, and adults. We are honored to offer unconditional acceptance, understanding, compassion, confidentiality and hope to everyone we serve.

Last year we walked alongside 315 clients as they shared their stories and processed their grief. We sat beside the youngest ones and listened as they told how much they love and miss their dads, mothers, grandparents, and siblings who died. We made crafts, played games, and gathered in circle time to talk about their loved ones and to teach them how to manage their sadness.

Our teens discovered they are not alone. They found others their age who had also experienced the death of someone they love. They soon realized they were in a safe place where they could talk about their grief without embarrassment or judgment.

The parents and guardians of the kids in our children and teen groups talked about their own grief and how to help their children. The now single moms and dads found a group who understood the difficulty of raising children who are grieving while they themselves grieve. The grandparents who were now acting as parents to their grandchildren no longer felt isolated.

Those in our Spouse/Partner Loss groups shared how they were coping with the loss of a life partner. Our Young Adult group leaned on each other as they shared the common grief of losing a parent or other loved one. Our Family and Friends group supported each other as they grieved the death of someone special in their lives.

The moms and dads in our Child Loss group found “their people” and bonded beautifully with other parents who knew their pain in a very real way. Parents who lost a child to suicide found the freedom to share honestly with others who experienced one of the deepest possible pains. Moms who experienced the death of an older adult child shared their journeys with mothers who had to bury their child instead of their child one day burying them.

Family members who experienced the homicide death of a loved one gathered to be with others who truly understood. To our knowledge, ours is the only support group in our area for those whose loved one was murdered. We are honored to provide this service to our community.

We were privileged to be trusted and invited to join each one of our clients on their journeys. We look forward to another great new year doing what we love to do. We are here for you if you or someone you know needs us. Call 214-452-3105 to set up an initial intake.

How to Support Grievers During the Holidays

Holidays are often difficult for those who grieve the death of a loved one. Truth be told, most would rather avoid the season altogether and disappear until January 2nd. We can’t take their grief from them, but we can certainly be more sensitive about unintentionally adding to their pain. Here are a few simple suggestions:

Instead of sending a happy holiday card, send a thinking of you card. Simply sign the card or write one supportive sentence. For example, “I’ll never forget David’s big smile” or “You are in our thoughts and prayers during this holiday season.” If you send a typical holiday card, they may wonder how you can possibly think they can be joyful when their loved one has died.

Be aware that sending your family photo in a paper or virtual card can be very painful for them. The presence of your intact family often magnifies the absence of their family member.

When you invite them to a holiday event, don’t pressure them to attend. It simply may be too difficult for them. Understand if they decline. If they leave earlier than expected, understand they may have reached their “being around people” limit and don’t question or pressure them to stay longer.

If they choose to treat the holiday as “just another day,” understand they are doing the best they can just to make it through this time of year. They aren’t in “denial” or “grieving too much,” they are doing what they need to do to take care of themselves.

If they choose to get away for the holidays or start a new tradition, honor their decision. They don’t need the additional stress of well-meaning friends and family acting offended or pressuring them to participate in traditional events. Remember this is about them - not about you.

Trust what they tell you and what they choose to do. Do not pressure them to make a different decision or tell them what you would do if you were in their shoes. Grief is like a thumbprint. It is different for everyone. Allow them the courtesy and right to grieve in their own way. You don’t know what’s best for them, they do.

Do something in memory of their loved one. Buy or make an ornament and give it to them. Or donate to your favorite charity in their memory. Or give them a gift card to their favorite restaurant. You’ll think of something.

Holidays are lonely and painful for those who grieve the death of a loved one. Make a commitment to do something to let them know you remember they are still grieving. Just let them know you remember and care. It’s really that simple!

Shut Out, Shamed and Shaped

Grief is often gut-wrenching, soul-stripping, mind-erasing, heart-destroying, and miserably misunderstood. Only those who have experienced the death of someone they love can truly speak to the devastating impact grief has on their lives. They are the “Get Its, the GIs,” and they paid a very heavy price to earn this title. Unfortunately, they are often surrounded by the “Don’t Get Its – the DGIs.” And though DGIs mean well and are trying to help, they sometimes shut out and even unknowingly shame those who are grieving.

The loneliness following the death of a loved one is deep and isolating. The griever is the only one who truly understands the depth of the relationship they shared with the person who died. Others may also be grieving, but their relationship with their loved one is different. In the midst of this loneliness, well-meaning family members and friends may seem to shut grievers out of their lives. They don’t want to talk about the loved one because it “might make them sad.” They are afraid to acknowledge the death because they believe they might say something wrong. They may avoid seeing or talking with the griever altogether.

Grievers are often disappointed in the support they receive from the people they fully expected to be there for them. Even though they may have always been the “go-to” person for others, it may never cross the minds of those they’ve supported to be there for them. When a partner dies, couples with whom they spent time may never include the surviving spouse again. When a child dies, friends may avoid being with the grieving parents. Often, when a loved one dies, most people never mention their name again. It’s as if they didn’t just die, they never existed. The deafening silence of never hearing their loved one’s name again is painful.

Others often unintentionally shame the griever. They mean well, but they often make comments and ask questions that are filtered very differently by the griever than intended. “I thought you’d be over it by now.” “You need to be strong and move on.” “You can have another baby.” “You can get married again.” “I miss the ‘old you.’” “I think you’re stuck and need therapy.” “At least you had them for (insert any number) years.” “At least you have other children.” (Never begin a sentence with “at least” when talking with a grieving person.)

When someone we love dies, it changes us. It shapes us. We have the power to respond in an unhealthy or healthy way. Don’t give anyone the power to make you feel uncared for because, in their ignorance, they seem to have shut you out. Don’t let anyone make you feel ashamed for grieving your loved one. Take all the time you need. Follow your heart. You are being shaped in painful, beautiful ways. And remember, it won’t always hurt this bad. Cling to the hope that you will get through this because you will. I promise!

A Heartfelt Ask on Behalf of Healing Hearts

We are incredibly passionate about the work we do at the Grief and Loss Center. This is our calling and our life’s mission. We are so very honored to walk alongside those who are grieving the death of a loved one. We are privileged to offer unconditional acceptance, compassion, confidentiality, understanding, and hope to the youngest child to the oldest senior adult.

Our clients come with broken hearts reeling from the death of someone they love. We serve parents who have lost children including those who have experienced the death of a child by suicide. We offer groups for widows, widowers, and those who have lost partners. Young adults come to support and encourage each other. Those who have experienced the loss of a loved one through homicide or suicide find others who understand. Those who have lost a parent or sibling find encouragement. Little children and teens come and realize they are not alone -- other kids their age have lost a loved one, too.

Everyone is welcome at the Grief and Loss Center. We proudly work with people of all denominations and religions and those who are agnostic or atheist. We embrace children and adults with special needs. We serve members of the LGBTQIA+ community. Our clients beautifully represent many races and cultures. Our collective diversity is one of the things we love most about our Center.

There is no charge for any of our services, which gives everyone the opportunity to receive grief support regardless of socioeconomic status. No one should have to grieve alone. We are honored to help any and every one receive the emotional support they need.

We are holding our only annual fundraiser this September 1st - 19th through our partnership with North Texas Giving Day (NTXGD). Every penny that is donated to the Grief and Loss Center directly impacts each client we serve. A generous matching donor will be amplifying your gifts to our Center by 50%. For example, if you donate $10, they will add $5 to your contribution making your donation total $15.

We humbly ask that you donate to our Center through the NTXGD campaign from now until September 19th by clicking here. Every gift you give will help the parent, child, partner, and friend as they seek grief support from our Center.

Thank you. It’s only because of your commitment and contributions that we are able to continue the work we do. You are a huge part of the Grief and Loss Center. We truly cannot do this work without you! Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for each and every gift you give.

Who Let the Dogs Out? We Did!

What a paw-some surprise for our SAM’s (Same as Me) kids! They arrived not knowing what we had in store for them. They were paw-sitively surprised to find five beautiful therapy dogs patiently waiting for their hugs.

Our Dog Days of Summer Party was a huge hit complete with dog-shaped suckers, dog key rings, dog glasses, dog bracelets, dog cupcakes, dog crazy straws, and dog stickers. And best of all, were the doggone huge smiles on our wonderful SAM’s families’ faces.

As the families moved from room to room, they met each dog and got to hug and pet them. Amani the Maltese, Serena the Maltipoo, Fiona the Golden Retriever, Emma the Collie, and Fletcher the Pocket Pit seemed to love the kids as much as the kids loved them. All are members of the Alliance of Therapy Dogs (ATD), a national organization providing certification, registration, support and insurance for members. We are indebted to their handlers for dedicating their evening to bring such joy to our families.

Enjoy these pup-arazzi pictures from the event. If you know of kindergartners through high school seniors who have experienced the death of a loved one, please tell them about our SAM’s program. We’d love to have them join us when we start our 13th year of SAM’s this fall. We welcome interested parents to call 214-452-3105 or to peruse our website for more information.

The Myths of Closure and Recovery

We close doors. We close windows. We close bank accounts. We close meetings. We close business deals. However, one thing we can never close is our grief for a loved one.

People often look for ways to stop their grief, to “get closure” and become absolved of the pain and sadness following the death of a loved one. In reality, grief is painful and inconvenient. People desperately want to get back to “normal” and “move on” as quickly as possible. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could just flip a switch, turn off our grief, and be done with it? But grief doesn’t work that way. There is no definitive closure. The intensity of our grief lowers, but we will always grieve the absence of those we love. 

The term “grief recovery” is used so much in our society that we expect to recover fully and completely from our grief. But grief is not the flu. We don’t “recover” from grief.  Instead, we reconcile it into our lives and learn to live again with meaning and purpose.

Grief is love. When we experience the death of someone special in our lives, our deep love for them becomes so painful we call it grief. Just as our love for them will never end, our grief for them will always be present. However, the intensity of our grief will ebb and flow throughout the years. Sometimes we’ll experience a grief tsunami and at other times, we’ll go through a grief storm. Eventually, we’ll simply sense the gently flowing stream of grief as we remember our loved one and the bond we continue to share.

Even if we could achieve the closure and recovery of our grief, would we truly want it? Grief is our connection to our loved one. It is natural and beautifully designed. Let’s move forward in our grief instead of moving on from it. Let’s reconcile our grief instead of striving to recover from it. Let’s look forward to reclaiming the beautiful meaning and purpose of our lives that lie ahead.

Grief and Relief

Have you ever felt relieved when someone you love died? Have you felt guilty or selfish because you experienced relief?

Feeling a sense of relief has nothing to do with the depth of love we have for the person who died. Nor does it have anything to do with the depth of our grief. Relief is most typically described as a feeling of relaxation following release from anxiety or distress. There aren’t many things in life as anxiety ridden and stressful as the anticipated or unexpected death of someone we love. And there aren’t many things more calming than the relaxation that comes with relief.

Relief often accompanies grief. For example, if our loved one had a life-ending illness, we may be relieved their suffering has ended. After a suicide death, we may be relieved their long, hard battle with mental illness is over. When a loved one dies from addiction, we may feel a sense of relief that they no longer have to fight this terrible disease.

We may also feel a sense of our own relief. The event we dreaded has now happened. We no longer need to be on high alert. Maybe for the first time in months we have the freedom to make plans. Maybe for the first time in years we don’t have to worry about relapse or wonder if our loved one is safe. We may be relieved that the hours and hours of caregiving have ended.

If offered the choice, most of us would gladly take on all the worry, stress, and caregiving again if we could only have them back. We still love them and would be there for them for as long as they needed us. Whatever relief we may experience is overshadowed by the deep, painful grief we carry in their absence.

It’s important to understand that grief and relief often walk hand in hand. This is natural and normal. It’s up to us to give ourselves the grace and space to experience both.

In Search of the Dash

On most tombstones and grave markers we find two dates – the deceased’s birthdate followed by the date of their death. The birthdate is typically a day of celebration as a new life comes into the world. It’s filled with promise and hope. The death date often elicits a moment of sorrow as it marks the end of a life. It’s filled with sadness and finality.

Grief work mainly focuses on the end date and how to rebuild life in the days that follow. Grief tends to draw attention to the tough, difficult moments that hold the memories and visuals of the closing of life. This season of grief provides the opportunity to process the loss of our loved one and to grieve in a healthy way.

Somewhere along the way the intensity of the pain begins to decrease allowing soothing, happy memories to resurface. Our loved one was so much more than a birthdate and a death date. The little dash holds the beauty and fullness of life they lived between their birth and death dates. That simple dash reveals the joy they brought us, the precious times we shared, and the meaning and purpose they fulfilled during their time on this earth.

The dash is hidden by our grief in the initial days and months following their death. As we grow in our grief, we begin the search for the dash. We want to remember all of who they were, not just the ending. We long to remember everything about them including the beautiful and hard times we shared with them.

As you continue your grief journey, hold on to the hope that the ending of your loved one’s life will become less vivid as you move closer to finding the dash.  When you finally find it, you’ll reclaim the joyful memories and the true essence of all they were. Until then, keep moving forward. The dash is just ahead.

My Grief through Dad's Alzheimer's

Anticipatory grief occurs when a loved one is given a life ending diagnosis or when we come to understand that they are declining and will not recover from any cause. It’s important to understand that this is a normal reaction to their anticipated death. We grieve for them long before they physically die. I experienced anticipatory grief when my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. I share my story in the hope it will help someone who is on this difficult journey.

My dad was the best man I’ve ever known. He was honest, ethical, hardworking, humble, and so very caring. He was a big, fit man who was still walking three miles twice a day on his treadmill at age 75. He was very humble and quiet and always stayed in the background drawing no attention to himself. He was the rock of our family.

One of the things I admired most about Dad was his brilliant mind. When he began to have lapses of memory I attributed it to his advanced age. Before long, it became obvious that his cognitive issues were much more serious.

When he started repeating questions and telling me about the same things over and over again, I knew in my heart he had Alzheimer’s. When the doctor confirmed the diagnosis, it became very real. My dad looked the same, but he was becoming a very different person. I grieved the diagnosis and his decline.

I knew intellectually that I couldn’t stop the progression of the disease or save his life, but I tried. I realize now I felt as if I stood between my dad and death, and I fought his decline and death for a very long time. New medications, therapies, and cognitive exercises all failed. The first time he didn’t recognize me I sobbed my heart out. From this point on, the game plan changed. It was no longer about saving him. It was about salvaging as much of his dignity as possible and keeping him safe and comfortable. I grieved the death of the hope I had for slowing the progression and saving his life.

As he continued declining, I had to adjust my definition of dignity. He moved to a wheelchair and then diapers and then came the fetal position. My smart, strong dad transformed into an infant in a man’s weak, dying body. I grieved for him and all he had lost. And I grieved for me as I helplessly witnessed his decline.

When he died, I was relieved for him. He would have been mortified if he had known the state of his body and mind. I was also relieved for me because the battle and the constant surrender were finally over. I grieved my “Alzheimer’s dad” but I had difficulty remembering who he was before Alzheimer’s. Months later, the memories of my strong, brilliant dad began to resurface, and I found myself deeply grieving the dad I had known before this heartbreaking disease stole him from me. All of who he was came rushing back and I grieved him in a very different, much deeper way.

Through this difficult journey, I discovered how little control I actually have over most of what happens in my life. I learned to surrender this false sense of control and to respond as the unknown unfolds. I discovered that although love is strong, some things are stronger and cannot be changed by love. I learned how beautiful it is to return the love and care my dad had always shown me.

Life’s most important lessons often come through difficult times. I’m grateful for all I learned on this journey and for the best dad anyone could ask for.

A Lesson From The Elephants

Grievers often express the desire for someone to simply sit with them in silence. They grow weary of clichés and well-intended comments that are meant to help, but harm.

They don’t need advice. They don’t need a friend or family member to tell them about their own losses. They simply need the presence of compassionate people who are listening to understand, not respond. Believe it or not, we can learn a lot about how to walk alongside someone who is grieving from elephants.

Elephants demonstrate an exceptional level of emotional depth including a profound understanding of grief and loss. They form very strong bonds with their herd, and when a member dies, their behavior teaches us a lot about our own behavior as we support someone who has experienced the death of a loved one.

The most beautiful expression of the herd’s grief is the vigil they hold around the body of their deceased herd member. In one instance, a mother elephant was deeply grieving the death of her calf. The other elephants made a circle around the mother and her baby’s body and stood in silence for hours. They stood motionless as they joined the mother in her mourning. They didn’t make a sound. They stood in sacred silence. They surrounded the mother with love and empathy. They made sure she knew she wasn’t alone in her grief.

We often struggle to find the “right” words to say when in the presence of someone who is grieving. We never seem to find them because there are no “right” words. Often, we have a need to say something that we think might help, but grievers don’t have a need for words. They simply need family and friends to gather around them in sacred silence to assure them they are not alone.

Let’s remember the lesson from the elephants and go and do likewise.

The Crushing Power of Never, Always, and Forever

Have you ever thought about how powerful words are? They can build or destroy. They can motivate or deter. They can save or devastate. They can illuminate or darken.

We often think about the way our words impact others, but seldom realize how profoundly our own words affect us. Whether said aloud or silently spoken in our thoughts, words can change the course of our grief journey.

I’ve always been aware of how healthy or how harmful our words can be, but recently one of our support group members shared how they manage their grief through their choice of their internal and external language.

They explained they came to identify three words that held them hostage to their sorrow and, in fact, increased the depth of their grief. “I discovered that I was repeatedly using never, always and forever when processing my grief. I came to understand how devastating these words were in my grief journey.”

They continued to share they would often think, “I will never see him again. My life will never be the same. I will never get over this.” They explained the devastating impact of “always” as they would think, “I will always be alone. I will always remember his last days. I will always be this sad.” They shared the difficulty of “forever” thoughts. “This is how my life will be forever. Nothing will change because this will last forever.”

Once they realized the crushing power of these three words, they made a conscious decision to remove them from their vocabulary. When they came to mind, they quickly and intentionally stopped the thought and stayed in the present.

Grieving is hard enough without projecting into the future and clinging to the nevers, the always and the forevers. It is so important to stay in the present and take one day at a time. Managing grief on a daily basis is hard. Projecting into the future makes it even more difficult -- even to the point of feeling a sense of hopelessness. Our internal language is a huge part of moving forward in our grief.

Think about your own grief. What do you tell yourself? What messages do you give yourself? What words keep you hostage to your grief? What words help you move forward?

You have the power to manage and control your inner language. It’s up to you to be intentional with the words you tell yourself.

Getting Through the Holidays

Holidays are difficult when someone we love has died. The empty chair at the table, seeing families who are still complete and remembering holidays past magnify the absence of our loved one. Everyone else seems so joyful and full of the holiday spirit. We sometimes wonder if they even remember that we are grieving.

Grieving during the holidays is typically exhausting and overwhelming. We hope these simple suggestions help you make your way through this very hard time of year.

Acknowledge that you are sad and that this year is different. You are not going to be blissfully happy and filled with holiday cheer. You are grieving the loss of someone very special in your life. Grief doesn’t disappear on holidays. Give yourself permission to experience all of your feelings and to process all of your thoughts. Be aware that you may have grief bursts or grief tsunamis as the holidays magnify your loved one’s absence and you miss them even more. Remember to take good care of yourself. Rest. Spend time alone if you need it. Give yourself permission to cry, to laugh, to smile and to do whatever you need to do to get through the holidays.

Keep your expectations realistic. Keep holiday plans manageable and bite sized. Remember that the anticipation of the day is often more difficult than the actual holiday. Decide what you are going to do on the day. Keep it simple and remember you can change your mind depending on how you feel when the actual day arrives. Remember that it’s perfectly fine to get away for the holidays and to do something entirely different this year. It’s also perfectly fine to do nothing and ignore the holidays.

You don’t have to do it all even if you’ve always done it all. Ask others to take some of the responsibilities you have done in the past. You don’t have to accept invitations to gatherings, even virtual ones. Follow your heart and do only what you think you can manage. It’s helpful to practice responses in anticipation of invitations that you may choose to decline if you aren’t up to attending or if the host/ess pressures you to attend. You don’t have to give an immediate response. Simply say, “Thank you. Let me think about this.” You can also say, “Thank you. I’m not up to it this time, but please ask me again.”

If you do participate in a holiday event, have an exit plan. Before you go, decide how long you are going to stay and leave when you need to leave. You can always change your exit plan if needed.

Remember that just because you do something different this year doesn’t mean you’re going to do it this way the rest of your life. Remember that you have the opportunity to keep some traditions, put some traditions on hold, change some traditions or add new traditions.  

Remember you can honor your loved one by preparing their favorite dish, buying or making an ornament in their honor, lighting a candle, etc. You can share with family and friends that you are honoring your loved one or you can do it privately. It’s okay to buy a gift for your loved one. Remember that your need to get something for them is important. You know in your heart that they don’t need a gift, but you may have a need to buy one for them.

Be proud of yourself for making it through this very difficult time of year. Grief is hard. It’s not a question of “if” you can get through the holidays. You are already doing it.

Grace and Space

I often wish I could sit down with every person who experiences the death of a loved one and share two of the most important things they can gift themselves as they begin their grief journey. Although it may seem oversimplified, grace and space lay the foundation for healthy grief.

Grace is extremely underrated, but so very crucial. All too often, we are hard on ourselves because we think we have to live up to the expectations of others and mourn the way they think we should. Even more difficult is trying to live up to the expectations we have set for ourselves. Grief is a process, not an event. Slow down and take it one moment at a time.

Give yourself lots of grace as you walk through the wilderness of grief. Be gentle with yourself. Forgive yourself when you make mistakes. Try not to “should” on yourself. You did the best you could at the time you had to do it. Hindsight is so much wiser than the present. And please understand that you need to take care of yourself. You are not responsible for another’s grief, only for your own. Be as kind and forgiving to yourself as you are with others.

Space is the gift of slowing down and exhaling. Take the time to grieve and mourn. Don’t bow to the loving pressure of others to participate in events and activities when you need time alone. Solitude can be so very healing. Create the sacred space you need to remember, to mourn, and to slowly find hope again.

Give yourself space to take care of yourself. Although you may have always been everyone’s “go-to” person, you may be running on empty and have nothing to pull up to give to others.

One day, you’ll have the capacity to take care of those you love, but for now, focus on yourself.

Grace and space offer healing and solace on the journey. Embrace them both.

Be a Part of our Village

Working with children, teens and adults who are grieving the death of a loved one takes a village. Some of us work directly with our clients. Others work behind the scenes. Others provide financial support making it possible for us to continue our work. Did you know that our services are free of charge and that we rely on donations to keep our doors open?

North Texas Giving Day (NTXGD) is an 18-hour online event designed to empower every person to give back to their community by supporting local nonprofits and causes they care about in one easy-to-use platform. We are honored to be one of the approved nonprofits to participate in this amazing event. NTXGD actually happens on Thursday, September 21st, but donations can be given starting September 1st. Make your donation today.

When you donate to the Grief and Loss Center you truly make a difference in lives of scores of children, teens and adults. You touch lives through each and every one of our programs.

Kindergartners through high school seniors grieving the death of a parent, sibling, or other loved one come to SAM’s (Same As Me) each month to be with others their age who have also experienced the death of someone special. They discover they are not alone as they share their stories and process their grief through activities and group times especially designed for their age group. As they meet, their parents and guardians join together to learn how to best support them and to share their own stories.

Our adult groups provide emotional support and a better understanding of grief to over a hundred adults each month. We offer three groups designed for parents who have experienced the death of a child – Child Loss, Senior Adult Moms and Child Loss by Suicide. Three groups are offered for Spouse/Partner Loss including one for young/median adults, one for older adults and one for senior adults. Young adults through the age of 35 find support in our Young Adult Group while median and older adults attend our Family and Friends Group. Our Homicide Group provides support to loved ones of those who died by homicide. In addition to the group, we also attend the trials with them whenever possible to provide additional support.

Almost 80% of the 3000+ clients we’ve served since the 2011 inception of the Center are underserved and would not have access to grief support without your financial gifts. We humbly ask that you become part of our village by making a financial contribution to the Grief and Loss Center during North Texas Giving Day. If you aren’t comfortable making an online donation, you are welcome to send a check to the Grief and Loss Center of North Texas, 4316 Abrams Road, Dallas, TX 75214.

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for joining our village. You are appreciated!

Dancing in the Rain

As I reflect on how I’ve lived my life, I realize I’ve often tried to change, or fix, life’s circumstances.  I think I’ve finally come to understand life is often “unfixable”.  Simply put -- it is what it is. 

Please don’t get me wrong.  I still have faith and hope, but I believe it takes greater faith and hope to live within our circumstances than to be rescued from our circumstances.   

I’m a huge believer in dancing in the rain. You see, I don’t think life is about waiting for the storm to pass.  There’s no doubt the rain will come.  It may come as a gentle shower or a raging, torrential storm, but rain is going to fall into each of our lives. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.

We can ignore the rain and pretend it doesn’t exist, but we’ll still get wet.  We can hold our naive, “it can’t happen to me” umbrella high above our heads, but eventually a storm will blow it away and we won’t just get wet, we’ll get soaked.  Or we can embrace the rain even when it batters us to the core. 

We each dance in our own way and in our own timing.  Our dance may start slowly and each step may be brutally painful.  We may have to stop and rest, but we’ll get up and dance a little longer the next time.  The music may be inaudible, but one day melodic notes will emerge again.  Undoubtedly, the lyrics will be different, but the music will play and our dance will go on.

Life is what it is.  The storms will surely come, but we can learn to dance in the rain.

The Cowboy

He had that Texas swagger as he ambled down the hallway quietly tipping his cowboy hat to everyone he passed. He had a kind face and gentle eyes. I had been at my mother’s bedside for three days and nights determined to keep my promise to be with her when she died. I was exhausted as I leaned against the doorframe of her room. He was a welcome change of pace for my tired eyes and breaking heart.

As I turned to take my post once again at my mother’s side, I heard, “Excuse me, mam.  I’m looking for Mrs. Kirkland. Is this the right room?”

Surprised he was here to visit my mother, I responded, “Yes, you’ve got the right room.  I’m her daughter.”

“Ma’am, I hope you don’t mind, but I attend the Cowboy Church and we’ve been praying for your mama and your family. We’re so sorry she isn’t doing well.”

 I struggled for words but managed to thank him for his thoughtfulness. There was something about his quiet voice and his calm spirit that touched my heart. He was a total stranger and had never met my mother, but here he was humbly standing beside me sharing my pain.

We were interrupted by a nurse who needed to confirm the name of the funeral home we had chosen for when the time came. I walked down the hallway to talk with her and left my new friend standing inside the doorway. The conversation took longer than I expected and I was anxious to return to my mother’s room. As I got to her door, I’ll never forget what I saw.

Kneeling beside my mother’s bed with bowed head, gently holding her tired, little hand, cowboy hat placed over his heart, he silently prayed for her. He didn’t utter a sound, but his silhouette in that darkened, quiet room is etched in my memory forever. 

After a time, he lightly kissed her hand and stood to his feet.  He put his big cowboy hat back on his head, gave me a sweet smile, and with tear-filled eyes, left the room.

This humble cowboy taught me that when our hearts are broken, we don’t need words. We simply need the silent presence of a kind soul who will take our pain upon themselves and carry it with us if even for a moment. May we all strive to be that kind, silent presence.