Self-publishing: Was it worth it?

So, now that I've come down off the high of holding my very own book in my hands, I've had a chance to reflect on what it took to get to that point.  For those of you who may be aspiring writers, friends and family wondering what the hell I've been doing for the past 18 months, or for those who just want to know what it took to make this dream a reality, read on!

I had been toying with the idea of writing a book for years.  Fifteen years ago I had gone as far as writing a proposal for a book about twin pregnancy and birth.  Then, the same week that I was actively seeking an agent, my 3-year old daughter died, suddenly and unexpectedly.  If you follow this blog, you know all about Meghan and what has happened in the ten years since that day.  Needless to say, my focus shifted.  That venture.  That dream.  That part of my life, dropped off the radar. 

After I started writing to Meggie a few weeks after she died, I pondered turning some of my "letters" into a book.  But how?

No matter.  Grieving got in the way. Life got in the way.  Collateral losses got in the way.  There was no energy.  No time.  But the desire was still there, waaaaay in the back of my mind but ever present in my heart. 

For the past several years, I have had the idea to write a book for bereaved parents.  Then, I began to wonder if I could write a book that served two purposes.  Both a book for the bereaved and those who support them, but also part memoir, as supporting "evidence" for the self-help portion of the book.  

It was a daunting task.  Not so much the writing part, but the logistics of it.  I worked nearly full time between all my jobs.  I had two boys to raise who played soccer almost every night and weekend.  I managed Meghan's Hope in my "free" time, a time consuming but voluntary labor of love.  With what little was left, I fostered relationships with family and friends.  I don't sleep much as it is... when the hell would I find time to write?

Two years ago I wrote the blog post that was a call to action and cry heard around the world.  It was called Be With Me.  Just for Today.  Perhaps, if you've been here before, you've read it.  It went viral. The thousands of comments and messages I received was astounding and overwhelming.  I wanted to raise awareness about the dangers of furniture and TV tip-overs.  Which I did, and I was thrilled. That has evolved in ways I only dreamed of and will write more about that soon.  

What I didn't expect from that blog post, were the hundreds of messages from other bereaved parents, who in reading it, reached out to me to thank me for sharing what it's like to be a bereaved parent publicly.  To tell me they felt the same way and thought they were the only ones.  That they were frustrated their family and friends kept telling them to get over it and move on.  That other people did not understand what it was like to lose a child.  How it hurts so much and for so long... forever.  My grief keeping and sharing encouraged them to do the same. We all helped each other to heal.

In talking to other bereaved parents, they encouraged me to write more about it.  I found myself having similar conversations with many different people about child loss and coping.  What to say to bereaved parents.  What not to say.  How to tell your family how you feel.  What to do if they don't get it.  Where to find help when they feel so alone.  

Then, I found, through my work as a home care physical therapist, there are a tremendous number of bereaved elderly, who lost their own children.  Some as babies, some as teenagers, some just last year and yet their pain is no different, no less than had it happened yesterday to their only child born still. Then I started to get referrals to talk to other bereaved parents.  As a lay mentor.  When I mentioned my plans for a book they all said, "Yes, oh please... that would be so helpful... I can't wait to read it"

Thoughts of a non-fiction book, part self-help, part memoir, began to swim around in my head again. It was daunting to consider actually undertaking writing a book!  

I received one unsolicited publishing offer as a result of my blog post. I researched the company, which was a hybrid "self-publishing" and part traditional publishing company.  They were offering me a discount of $1500 (that I would pay them) to publish it. They sent me a contract.  I didn't like the terms.  They could not be changed.  I said thank you but no thank you.  

I sought out information with another popular self-publishing company, who gave my ego all kinds of stroking and would be more than thrilled to publish my book for anywhere from $1500-6000 depending on what services I wanted.  They were more pushy, doing the car salesman thing of "let me talk to my manager to see if I can get you a better price".  I don't play that game.  After doing further research, I also rejected that offer.  Interestingly, the sales person sent me the vibe that I did the right thing.  Not with her words at all, it's just the energetic feeling I got from her tone of voice and my intuition.  Validation, I guess. 

It seemed to me self-publishing should not cost thousands of dollars and then the publisher still has control of pretty much everything and royalties amount to about $1.20 per book sold if you are lucky. It's pretty hard to recoup the initial expense, let alone make money, especially when you add in your own marketing costs since they don't do that for you!  This book was too important and too personal to give up control of content, the cover, the price... anything to someone who knew nothing of the content or the intended audience.  Such emotional and delicate subject matter with such a niche audience.  No, this was my baby... about my baby. 

I also talked to one traditional small publisher.  No cost to me up front but they still got most of the money from the sales, which is more appropriate than the other offers, but again, I was not willing to give up creative control for this particular book.  They dealt in books close to my target audience, but still with small reach.  I was close to taking this offer though, just because the pressure for editing and cover and all of that would be off. 

Finally, after literally months of research and soul-searching, I decided to truly self-publish.  I chose CreateSpace, which is an Amazon affiliate.  I did this after days and weeks  and months of reading and researching different options out there.  My head was spinning! You know what it costs to truly self-publish?  Nothing!  Well, except time, which you probably have to devote more to when pursuing this route.  

There are other costs that are worth factoring in, like finding an editor and perhaps a cover designer. Still, it's a hell of a lot less expensive and you retain full rights, creative control, and will see a much higher royalty payment per book sold as a result. You choose the size of your book, the font, the title, the content, the price, everything.  Great! So now I had a plan! 

The challenge was in finding the time to do it.  Writing can be time consuming.  Writing about something so emotional and personal requires uninterrupted time. Research also had to be done.  

There are actually courses out there that teach you how to write.  How to write a book proposal.  How to market.  How to find an agent.  There are also a plethora of books out there.  There are courses on how to meet media and sell your story.  How to write a bio.  It goes on and on. They all cost money. They may or may not help you.  It depends what you need and where you can access that information. I purchased a few.  To be honest, I have read nor watched many of them.  A colossal waste of money.  

I took the NaNoWriMo challenge in November of 2013 (National Novel Writing Month) and wrote the bulk of the book then.  November-December and the summer months are the only relative "down" time I have with the soccer schedule of my boys.

Then I took a break.  I got back to it in the spring and over the summer.  I began to look for an editor. I asked friends and family and other bereaved parents to read it for me to give feedback on content and flow.  Of those that even agreed to do it, only one actually read the entire book and provided the feedback. The others either couldn't get through it or didn't have the time.  Most didn't even take me up on the offer.  I get it.  People are busy.  The subject matter is very emotional.  I was sad more people didn't follow through.  It made me wonder if anyone would really buy it.  

I plowed on.  I found an editor.  I finished the first draft.  I began incorporating the line edits. It is very tedious and time consuming work.  It took months of on again, off again editing and re-editing. Then I read it again.  And edited it, again.  Rinse. Lather. Repeat.  Over and over and over.  I understand now why a good book editor can cost a few thousand dollars.

It got to the point where I couldn't get the distance I needed to do the developmental editing anymore, let alone find the few and random punctuation and grammatical or spelling/word choice errors.  I again asked if people would be willing to give it a quick read for feedback.  Crickets.  

I was on my own. 

I formatted it for CreateSpace.  Formatting errors then needed to be corrected and it also made for previously missed errors in punctuation and grammar easier to spot.  Great!  More tedious line editing.  I did have the support and assistance of my tech savvy husband, which was a Godsend!

Next began a process of uploading the file to CreateSpace for approval.  Their return of the proof was usually less than 24 hours, which was great.  You could order a digital proof, which was free and immediately available, or you could order a printed proof of the book, which took about 5 business days expedited delivery.  It's a print on demand system, so overnight or 2 day delivery really isn't an option. Cost of author copies depends on the size of the book and number of pages.  You had to pay for a printed proof.  

I ordered one printed proof for the first print ready upload, just to see the cover for real.  It looked blurry in the PDF proof.  It actually wasn't in the printed version. You can do both the printed and the digital PDF proof, which I did. So, in the meantime, other errors were found once I received the PDF print ready proof, so then I had to go back and change the original formatted word doc and re-upload it (you can't edit in their PDF proof reader). I did this 3 or 4 times before I finally hit the wall and let it go. 

Then there is the cover design.  I am blessed and fortunate to have generous friends.  Two edited it for me, one line edits only, the other both line and developmental editing.  My friend Steve, who is an amazing photographer and Photoshop guru, helped me with the cover design.  No, scratch that.  He did the entire cover design.  I just gave him my vision, he found some pictures, I chose one.  I gave him the words, he did the rest.  It's amazing.  He kicks all kinds of cover design ass.  For payment, he has requested a nice dinner with our respective significant others.  Done and done.  If you want to see his photos, check him out at this Flickr site https://www.flickr.com/photos/sdowen/

Once you approve the print ready proof in CreateSpace it's locked and cannot be changed.  It is immediately available for purchase in the CreateSpace store.  It took 3 days before my book was available on Amazon.

The author gets a higher royalty, almost double, from the CreateSpace store than they do from Amazon sales because Amazon takes 40%.  Still, it's far less than what most traditional or so called "Self" publishing houses take. Amazon is probably where the vast majority of books are sold today. It's where I buy all mine.  So having my book in a brick and mortar bookstore was not necessary for me. I also didn't want the hassle of trying to sell the books on my own Website, as that adds cost, the need for a sales tax permit, shipping cost determination and challenges, and a lot of trips to the post office. I'd also have to keep an inventory, which has it's own logistical challenges.

Is the book perfect?  No.  I'm sure there are a few grammatical errors I missed. 

Is the content perfect?  No.  I did the best I could.  If I had written about everything I wanted to and with the level of detail I would have liked, the book would be too heavy and too expensive to manage! There is some repetition, but it's intentional because of the way the book was written.  It's designed to read like a conversation between the reader and I in a down to earth, person to person manner.  it's also written so any chapter could stand alone.  Not everyone will read it in order.  Not everyone will read the entire book.  Not everyone will like it.  Not everyone will understand it's purpose, although I tried to make it clear from the cover copy and introduction and in my marketing efforts.

I'm sure with some distance and a re-read in a few months, along with feedback from readers, I will be able to see it with fresh eyes and update it if need be.  Therein lies another beautiful thing about self-publishing.

I can always revise it!  It just means while I am going through the process of revising the content, the book is unavailable for sale since it's also unavailable for printing.  It means potential lost sales for a few days.  

Once you have published your book with CreateSpace, you have the option of converting the files to the Kindle Publishing Platform or KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing).  Turns out the conversion of the Word file did not prove easy.  The formatting got all messed up.  It had to be reformatted for Kindle, which proved to be no easy task.  Thankfully, my husband is savvy because I could not have figured it out easily, if at all.  He converted it to a mobi file, wrote some HTML code to make the table of contents work the way it ideally should in a mobile device or e-reader, and an entire day of reformatting later...  it's 90% compatible with the most popular Kindle reading apps.  It looks different in every device.  What a royal PIA!  There is really no way to get it perfect for all of them so far as I can tell.  

So, after almost 2 years since I began this process, and a very concentrated last 2 months with all kinds of glitches at the end, I am a published author.  Had I known about all the formatting inconsistencies, challenges of cover design, and the likely need for multiple revisions and 24 hr lags between proof returns digitally, I'd have factored that in.  I was on a self-imposed publishing deadline, which was a good thing, because otherwise it might never have gotten done!  

The beauty of self-publishing is the only deadline is your own!  You do need to plan ahead though as editing can take a few months for your editor and then you have to incorporate all those edits which can take weeks if not longer, depending on how much time you have to devote to it.  You also have to plan for cover design, which can also be quite time consuming unless you have mad Photoshop skilz.

You could hire someone to design a cover, but that will also take a month or two and add cost that must be factored in.  How long it takes you to write is all up to you.  Obviously, if I were not also working, being a mom, and managing an educational awareness campaign, I could have done the writing a lot faster and the same is true for editing.  Then, of course, a good few weeks should be budged for unexpected glitches at the end like Kindle formatting.  If you don't have the skills to understand and do the formatting, you may need to hire someone to do the conversion for you, and that adds more time and expense.

Do I regret any of it?  Absolutely not.  While I was honored and thrilled to be offered 3 different publishing contracts, I knew in my heart of hearts, this was meant to be a truly self-published book. My goal is not to sell a million copies, although that would be nice, to know all those people are getting the information and support they need after suffering the worst loss ever.    The reality is this is a book no wants to ever have to buy.  It's a niche audience.  It's a book hundreds of people need every single day as newly bereaved parents, and one hundreds of thousands could use because they know someone who is a bereaved parent or are one themselves who has never been offered the support and guidance or even permission to grieve.

If this book helps but one person in their journey out of the darkness of grief, then it was worth every single second.  

If you'd like to learn more, visit http://www.outofthedarknessgriefsupport.com/

A Letter to Meggie on her 10th Angelversary

Dear Meggie,

As I sit in your bedroom on this, the 10th anniversary of your death, I find myself thinking not only of your short three years here on earth, but wondering what you would be like today, had the unthinkable not happened.  Who would you be?  What would you have become?  You would be a teenager now!

Your twin brother is thirteen.  He is growing like the proverbial weed.  Ky-ole is over 6 feet and already a junior in high school!  How tall would you be now?  What would you look like? What would your voice sound like?  Would your eyes still hold that same wisdom? Would the boys be chasing you or would you be chasing them?  Never mind, I already know the answer to that one...

I gaze at the little lock of hair tied with a pink ribbon the nurses gave us the day you died. I can’t help but wonder, would your hair be long or would you prefer a pixie cut?  You never were one for keeping the “pretties” in for very long.  I wonder if your hair would still be that beautiful golden blonde or if it would have darkened like both of your brothers’ hair did.  

Would you be a girly-girl or more of a casual tomboy?  You liked to dress up but you also liked to be naked just as much!  You loved both your Tinker Bell jammies and your dinosaur jammies.  Your grandmothers would have kept you well supplied with girly clothes whether you liked it or not!

As I glance at the finger paintings and drawings you made, I can’t help but wonder, would you have been an artist?  You loved to paint!  You were very crafty.  Your hand and foot prints look so tiny now.  

I remember how active and busy you were. Would you be a dancer, gymnast, or soccer player like your brothers are?  I bet you’d have done all three of them!   Or, maybe you’d have done something entirely different.  My money is on gymnast.   

Would you still have a love of kitties, all things pink and sparkly, and Tinker Bell, or, would your tastes have changed?  Would you still be silly and playful?  I hope so.  I bet you would be.  Bampy would make sure you didn’t lose that!

Would you enjoy running 5k’s with your mother in silly costumes or would you roll your eyes in embarrassment like the boys do now? You always did run fast!  I probably wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.  I can’t keep up with your brothers, either.  

What would dinner time be like if you were here?  Would the family dynamic be significantly different?  Would you still like Veggie Booty?  Does anyone else even eat Veggie Booty?

If you continued to command attention the way you used to, I’m sure it would be different! You would have had your big brothers both wrapped around your little finger!  I bet there would be a lot more arguments about which movie we watch or what game we play.  Your brothers would have learned so much more about dealing with girls… and young women.  No doubt, you’d have set them straight and kept them in line.  They would have been fiercely protective of you, too.

I wonder if it would have been a Frozen Christmas this year…  Maybe we all would have gone to the Village for Christmas.  Auntie T would have totally sucked you in to glow with the show ears at Disney World!  Grammie and Bampy probably would have spent an arm and a leg to take you to the Bippidi Boppity Boutique so you could be a princess.  We would have had matching Tinker Bell wings and wands!  :-)

Speaking of Christmas, I know the joy of the season would be back if you were still with us. So much of the joy and sparkle of the season died with you.  It’s been such a struggle to get it back.  I try, but it’s so hard.  I know you send love and light every year, and occasionally throw down an angel or an ornament just to let us know your playful side is still with us.  Still, we miss you so much it hurts.  It literally hurts.

Instead of holding a photograph of you for the big family picture, I wish I was holding you.  

It’s so hard to believe it’s been ten years Meggie.  There are so many things I thought we’d share together that we’ve already missed.  The double birthday celebrations and parties for you and Ry. The first days of school and the last days of school.  Holidays and birthdays and gatherings with friends.  Family vacations and summer day trips.  The dance recitals and sporting events we never got the chance to share.  Trips to Disney.

And now, all I have to look forward to are more milestones without you. I won’t ever get to celebrate the rites of passage into womanhood with you.  I’ll never have the opportunity to teach you to drive.  I won’t get to see you grow into the amazingly beautiful and bright woman I know you would have been.  I won’t see you graduate, get married, or have your own children.  There will be no mother daughter mani-pedis, or girls only shopping trips.  No prom, no first dates, no bridal or baby showers… I’ll never be the mother of the bride.   

Instead, I spend all of these transitional moments missing you.  Every holiday.  Every milestone your brothers reach.  Every milestone I reach.  Every milestone you should have reached.  Every Mother’s Day. Every day.  Wondering who you would be at each of them. How it would be different if you were still here with us.  Feeling the pain of your absence.

I am alone in my pain of missing you, because it, like you, is invisible.  At least most of the time.  Others can’t see it, or don’t understand it, so they don’t acknowledge it.  

When Ry gets his learner’s permit I will cry.  When he graduates, I will cry.  When he goes to his first formal dance, I will cry.  When he marries, I will cry.  When your brothers achieve all of their milestones, I will cry.  Tears of happiness for him.  Tears of sadness for me, because there is forever one, where two should always have been.  

How will Ry feel?  Will he miss sharing these moments with his twin sister?  Does he wonder what it would be like if you were still his best friend?  His telepathic partner in mischief?  What would your twinship be like now?  Would you still insist “Ry Ry did it?”  He’d probably deny it now… I think he’d catch on eventually.

How will Kyle feel?  Does he ever think about what life would be like now with his “baby” sister?  How it would be different?  

The world will forever see I have 2 boys where 2 boys and a beautiful little girl should have been. Some will know what is missing.  Most will not.  I will always know. I will always miss you.  It will always hurt.

All I can do now is hope that wherever you are, you are at peace.  You are happy.  You are free.  You are flying with the angels.  I hope your wings are sparkly!  I hope you can feel the love we hold in our hearts for you here.  We can feel the love you send us. Keep it coming!  

You always wanted to fly high in the sky…

Happy 10th Angelversary my sweet baby girl.  May your wings help you soar high and free.  

Kiss.

Hug.

Snuggle.

Love,

Mommy

Coping with the death of a child and supporting their parents

What happens in the "My Child is Dead" club should be known by everyone in the Universe.  This is not fight club.  This is I can't believe I'm living this nightmare club.

The club shouldn't be a secret.  It shouldn't be hush-hush.  It should be talked about, shared, supported and know across the land. We are hurting.  We need love.  Understanding.  Non-judgmental and unconditional support.  We need to be listened to, not told what to do or how to feel.  We need time.  We need tissues.  We don't need to eat, sleep, 'get over it' or 'move on'.  We don't need to hear how much better off they are, how it was somehow for the best or at least they didn't suffer or are no longer suffering.  WE are suffering.  WE are hurt.  WE need to walk our own road, at our own pace, in our own way. WE will never, ever be the same.  We are not bad, stupid or neglectful parents (though depending on the circumstances of our child's death, some say we are.  I don't have to tell you how painful THAT is).  We are parents who loved our children and now they are gone.  Time may heal, but it doesn't cure.

Joining a club is typically a positive experience, one made voluntarily and with great enthusiasm for the subject. Not so with our club. We are a unique group.  We are the club no one ever wants to belong to.  We are the person you never want to be.  We are the person some of you can't handle being around, because we 'bring you down'.  Because YOU can't deal with our pain.  We have no choice. We are parents who've had to bury our own children.  We didn't expect to join this club and we are beyond pissed that we had no choice but to become a part of it.

To the members of the club who have reached out to me in comments on my blog post about Meghan's Angel day, on her Facebook page and through her Web site, I most sincerely, lovingly and with an open but heavy heart welcome you to the club.  I've heard from so many of you who are also members.  Far more than I ever expected.  Some, very recently have lost your children.  You've lost your unborn babies, infants, toddlers, teenagers or adult children.  They've been lost to cancer, accidents, suicide and medical illness.  None of us ever expected it would happen to us.  Yet here we are.

All of you have commented that in reading my words, you realized you were not alone.  You realized you had similar feelings and experiences  you felt the pain, the guilt and the anger.  Some of you have never shared with anyone how you felt or feel, especially beyond your spouse.  It helped to validate how you felt and that you were not alone. That you were not 'broken'.  You've all done the same for me.  We are bonded in our grief and our love of our children.  Our experiences are different, yet similar.  We walk this road together in spirit.  I've tried to answer you all individually, I'm so sorry if I haven't.  I've read all of your words and said prayers for your children and your families.

This post is for both those who have lost children and those who support them in their loss.  We cannot bring our children back to us in body.  What we can do is honor our feelings, remember them and the joy they brought to our lives, preserve their memory and love them always.  Many of those who lost children or grandchildren, especially recently, have asked how I coped.  Does it ever get better or easier?  Is it a life sentence of guilt, pain and depression?  Will my marriage survive? How am I going to do this?  I hope to help answer some of those questions for you here.

Disclaimer:  This is going to be a long post. Very long.  Although about the loss of a child, much of what I say here is appropriate for any loss of a loved one.

Of course, I can only speak for what I found helpful and that which worked for me.  Know you will find your own ways of coping, processing and integrating your child's death into the rest of your life.  It is my distinct hope that in sharing what I've done the past 8 years to keep Meg's spirit alive in our family, the growth and change her death catalyzed in me and how I've gone through the stages of grief it will help you who is reading this.  Either in your own journey in living your life with a spirit child or in your role supporting a loved one who is.  Please take from this only that which resonates with you and leave the rest.

You already know about my experience of Meghan's Angel Day and how I honor her memory and remember her death ever year.  If you are new here, read my post from December 18th.  You already know about how Meghan's Hope began, what it is and why I devote so much time and energy to educating others about the dangers of furniture tip-over and child safety.  It is how I continue to mother her.  It is how I honor her life and her death.  It is perhaps, her purpose in my life and yours.  In her death, in sharing her story, she has saved thousands of  lives, at least I hope so.  That brings me some peace.  It doesn't lessen the pain of her loss any.

So, what is the experience of losing a child like?  It's a living hell.  You've not known pain until you've held your dead child.  Until you've seen their tiny lifeless body in a casket.  Until you've attended their funeral, buried them and came home without them.  You can never, ever know what it's like unless you've experienced it.  Don't ever pretend to *know* what it's like.  Don't ever say you understand how that person feels unless you've lost a child yourself.  Even then, your experiences and feelings could be very different.  That which comforted you may not provide any comfort and in fact may anger another person.  Please think before you speak.  That is my first piece of advice.

Don't touch their stuff without asking first:  

The day she died, neighbors held vigil at our house.  One of them was a police officer.  He wisely told the women who, in wanting to do something to help, wanted to clean for us.  He told them not to touch anything, the house needed to be exactly as I left it.  They had no idea what or where Meghan's memory would be for me and I needed to have that part of normalcy untouched.  I am so grateful for his words.  I went to that last cup Meghan drank out of in the sink and held it, smelled it, put my lips where hers had been.  If they had washed it, that opportunity to reconnect with one of the last things she touched would have been forever lost.   In a similar story, my mom, in trying to be helpful, vacuumed Meghan's room a few days after she died.  I was pissed.  I never told her.  Sorry, mom.  She vacuumed up bits of Meghan that day.  Her hair, her skin, her smell.  The energy of where she last lay, played, died was disturbed by the vacuum.  I couldn't have known I'd feel that way.  Neither could my mother.  Let it be a lesson, parents, especially mothers need to touch, feel, smell their children.  I sniffed her shoes, her clothes, the floor.  Anyway I could connect with her, I tried.  I still do.

Many people are unsure what to do with their child's room and 'stuff'.  Nothing, until you are ready.  Some people have kept their child's room exactly the way it was left the day they died for decades.  Others tweak it over time.  After about a year, we took Meg's day bed down.  We moved her dresser and I moved my scrapbook and beading supplies into her room.  It's now 'our' space.  Some of her toys are still there and other little bits of her.  Pictures she drew, a box she painted, her hair pretties.  Other things I've packed away and ritualistically go through periodically.  That was what resonated with me.  The windows still bear her finger prints.  The lamp that was on her dresser still has the creased lampshade from when it fell the day she died.  It's a blend of her life, her death and my love for her.  A place for me to be with her, to channel creativity, to meditate to just *be* with her, for it was the last place she was alive in our home and for me, it's sacred.

Don't hound them about eating:

I lost 20 pounds in the two weeks after Meghan died.  I had no appetite.  Everyone told me I *had* to eat.  Fuck that I told them.  I ate enough to survive.  Every person who told me to eat only pissed me off more.  I picked at egg nog, sweets, and pasta.  My go to comfort foods.  I did greatly appreciate the non-stop food train that came to our house for weeks after she died.  That is so helpful. I, nor anyone else in my family, had to worry about cooking or cleaning for weeks.  I'd eat a small bit.  Food arrived, fully prepared, often hot, the containers it arrived in were either disposable or left on the porch the next day to be quietly picked up.  What a Godsend.  Do that.  For weeks, if not months.  There are great services out there like Lostsa Helping Hands and Meal Train to help organize it.  Eventually, I began to eat more.  I slowly regained the weight, but it took years.  I was not overweight to begin with but I was not anorexic.  I just ate a lot less.  I had no appetite.  Depression will do that to you.

Some people will have the opposite reaction.  They'll eat non stop and gain weight.  We all cope differently.  For a time, it's to be expected.  Be sure you get regular health care check ups in that first year.

Sleep may be elusive or all you want to do:

I couldn't sleep.  I later learned I had PTSD.  Every little noise I had to investigate, because I never heard the dresser fall.  I checked on my kids every half hour to be sure they were still breathing.  I'd lie in bed at night, desperate for sleep but unable to.  I closed my eyes and relived everything about her death.  I'd pull the car over frequently to be sure the kids were breathing when driving.  I was afraid to cross railroad tracks. I lived in constant fear of something happening to one of my other kids.  Several people suggested sleeping pills.  I was petrified to do that.  I already had tremendous guilt about not waking up and saving Meghan, the thought of chemically knocking myself out and potentially not hearing something that could save one of my other children was unbearable.  Besides, I don't tolerate medicine in general and I avoid it unless necessary.  It may be very helpful and appropriate for others, it just didn't resonate with me.

How do you prepare for their wake, funeral and burial?

This is really a matter of personal and religious preference.  Some people will choose cremation and a memorial.  Meghan was baptized Catholic.  We chose a one session wake, funeral mass and public commitment ceremony/burial at the cemetery in our town.

We were told to call the local funeral home in town to make arrangements. I called the afternoon she died.  They already knew about her death and were expecting my call. I swear the woman I spoke to was crying as I spoke with her.  We met the next day.  They asked that I bring clothes for Meghan and a blanket of hers.  I chose her favorite outfit.  Pink, sparkly pants with big flowers on them, a pink shirt and her white fleece hoodie with a kitty on it.  Pretties for her hair and pink slippers I had gotten her for Christmas for her feet and of course, pink socks.  I brought the blanket she slept with every night, a pink, flowered fleece blanket.  See a theme here?  :-)   The director explained to us what to expect.  We decided upon calling hours and a time for her funeral.  He helped us to write her obituary.  He called the florist to meet with us that day (it was Sunday) and we arranged a time to pick out a place for her at the cemetery.  We chose a prayer card for the guests of her calling hours.  The entire experience was surreal.  He chose a casket for her.  He simply asked if it was OK if he chose, since there were not many options and he knew how difficult it would be for us to go into *that* room 24 hours after our daughter had died. The one he chose was perfect and beautiful and fit for a little blonde angel.

He called us the next day to let us know she was at the funeral home. Because her death was accidental, an autopsy was required.  So she went from the hospital to the medical examiner and back to the funeral home. He told us we could come see her whenever we wanted to.  We went early the morning of her calling hours with immediate family to see her.  This was so important.  We opted to do it in stages.  Her dad and I saw her first, laid out in the casket.  Then we invited the boys in with us.  Then our parents, siblings and friends in that order.  We took pictures of her that I later scrapbooked.  We had hours to be with her, cry, talk amongst our selves and prepare for the public viewing later that day.   We brought some of her things and pictures to display, my husband made a slide show of pictures of her and our family to be looped, we made a CD of her favorite music to be played in the sound system.  Those who came to pay their respects were probably a bit surprised to hear an array of Disney tunes and Mambo No. 5!  :-)

The calling hours were for 3 hours.  It was non-stop.  We were blown away by those who came.  We stared at her, cried, laughed a bit and comforted our friends and family more than they did us at that point I think.

Her funeral mass was as beautiful as it could be.  I've written about it before, so I won't elaborate here.  We also had it photographed.  You can see it in pictures here with a gorgeous song called 'Visitor From Heaven' Please take a few minutes to watch it, even if you are afraid it will make you cry.  It speaks volumes more than I could ever write.

Innate and mundane stuff will piss you off

You feel as if you are operating in slow motion, everything is foggy.  It's hard to feel anything other than sadness.  If you smile or laugh, you almost feel guilty.  If someone else is smiling or laughing you hate them.  How dare they be happy when you are in so much pain?

You find the mundane things you used to enjoy either don't hold the same appeal or are downright annoying now.  Seeing other children who look similar, act similar or seeing children's things your child would have liked can rip your heart right open.  I can't tell you how many times I'd have something in my hand to buy for Meghan before I realized she was dead, weeks and months after she died.  I couldn't even walk past the little girls clothing section of stores for a year without dissolving into tears and feeling like I got kicked in the gut.

I partially cope with this by purchasing trinkets for Meg's special place at the cemetery, her memorial garden at our home or buying something she'd have loved and donating it to a charity.

Trigger Days and Being Blindsided

There are certain 'trigger days' when you can expect a resurgence of emotion.  They are the difficult days.  The firsts of the first year are usually the most difficult and expected. For a while, for me, it was every Saturday.  Meghan died on a Saturday.  I was hyper-aware of days, times and how it correlated to the day and time of her death and my experiences that day.  Much like a mother remembers her birth story and the birth day of her children, she remembers their death day.  At least I did.

Then it was the 18th of every month.  She died on the 18th.  Even now.  Every 18th day of the month, I think of her angel day.  Now it's nothing more than 'another 18th' without her.  But at first, it was a marker of some kind emotionally and I was more aware and it hurt more on the 18th's.

The big ones of course are holidays, Mother and Father's day, the child's birthday and their death day.  I was surprised how much my own birthday was a trigger for me.  Then there are things like the first day of school or what *should* have been their first day of school.  Going through the milestones of your other children, without the one you lost, wondering what it would be like if they were there for this event, or their own graduations, proms and other rites of passage.  You can prepare for them in some ways, but in others you can't.  I found I dreaded them.  The anticipatory grief was almost worst than the actual grief and pain of the day.

You will be blindsided at times.  You'll think you're fine, having a good day, going about your business, even years later, and then, out of the blue, something will pull at your heartstrings.  A song, a person, something you heard, a child that looks like yours did, it could be anything, anytime and anywhere.  It's to be expected, and even now, 8 years later, it still happens once in a while.  Not nearly as much as it used to, but I expect it will happen forever. For me, a year or so ago, it was a Seventh Generation ad.  There was a little blonde girl wearing a pink shirt looking through a washing machine door.  My heart nearly stopped.  She was a ringer for Meghan! Blew my mind.  Her brother asked how it was possible she was living somewhere else doing magazine ads!

Counseling is helpful, Depression is normal for a time - Please LISTEN 

The loss of a child is up there on the life stress scale.  You have every right to be depressed and for the better part of the first year.  It's an expected grief reaction.  It's not something you get over.  There is help out there.  The Compassionate Friends is a bereavement support group especially for parents who have lost a child of any age.  They have a wonderful Web site and local chapters that offer support meetings. There is a national conference every year and a walk to remember, where walkers carry the name of your child.  This year it is in Boston.  They sponsor a candle lighting memorial around the world in memory of the children gone too soon so that 'their light will always shine' on the second Sunday of December.  I can't recommend them enough.  For parents, siblings, grandparents and friends.

Grief counseling is tremendously beneficial.  It can help you express and validate your feelings.  Help you navigate and process grief.  It's a process.  Many people find it helpful.  I did.  Sometimes, anti-depressant medication is helpful, too.  I strongly recommend it be used together with talk therapy.  Far too many primary care physicians are willing to write prescriptions without understanding why that person is requesting or needing them and without appropriate follow up.

As a friend, offer to listen.  Give them permission to call you anytime, anywhere, for any reason.  You may hear the same thing over and over.  Listen.  Only offer your opinion or advice if they ask for it, especially initially.  Hug.  Say I'm sorry.  Be there.  Offer to help by doing housework, shopping, cooking, errands.  Don't be afraid to say their child's name, ask what they are thinking or how they are feeling.  It's ok to cry, yourself.

How do you answer the question, "How many children do you have"?

It may well depend on the day, how you are feeling and who is asking.  In the first few weeks after she died, I'd just cry if anyone asked.  Avoiding human interaction was my chosen coping strategy at the time with anyone who didn't already know.  Thankfully, I'm pretty well connected with some pretty amazing people, so I had a lot of support and understanding around me.

Many people don't acknowledge to strangers that they've lost a child.  It may be too painful to say out loud or, many of us simply don't want to have to deal with the person who is asking's discomfort at our answer.  It can be emotionally exhausting to deal with the fallout of such an unexpectedly loaded question for both parties.  I think that's unfortunate.  Our children's life and death both deserve to be acknowledged.

In my professional bio, I say that I am the mother of 3.  Two boys who walk this earth with me, and a daughter who flies with the angels.  Most of the time, when asked, I say I have 3 children and leave it at that.  What if they ask a more specific question, like how old are they or are they boys or girls?  Then, I typically say I have 2 sons and a daughter.  I often elaborate on my own and say my youngest son and my daughter are twins, but she died when she was 3 and give the current ages of the boys, because, well, at that point, full disclosure is easier.  You'd be surprised how expressions change and that abruptly ends the discussion.  Some say nothing.  That hurts the most.  Some say they are sorry.  I appreciate that.  Some ask how she died.  I tell them.  They are often moved to tears.  Sometimes, it provides an opportunity for discussion about safety. Sometimes, I end up comforting them.

Some relationships will change

Death has a way of showing you who your true friends are in life.  There are those that are there for you when it's sunny, but it's those who can sit with you through the storms, through the flood of tears, the violent tornadic winds of emotion and offer you a life preserver of unconditional and non-judgmental support that are your true friends.

Family and friends will all cope differently.  Some cope by not coping at all.  They avoid contact with you.  They don't want to talk about your dead child.  They dive into their work or hobbies.  They become 'busy' and unavailable.  You may find that fundamental differences can no longer be dealt with.  Some people you were once close to may drift away and those relationships may end.  Others may become closer and stronger.  New relationships will blossom, perhaps with those who've had a similar loss or experience.

I lost some really good friends after Meghan died.  Some family members became closer, others more distant. I found some new, really amazing friends.  I am grateful for all of them and what they brought to my life in the time they were an active part of it.

People often ask me about their marriage.  Will our marriage survive?  I don't know the statistics.  I do know nationally, the divorce rate is over 50%.  Whether or not your marriage may survive may well depend on how that child died, if blame is placed on the other parent or if  there was already animosity in your relationship.  If your marriage was anything but perfect before your child died, it's going to take a lot of work and understanding to weather the storm of losing a child.  It will take open and honest communication, understanding, perhaps some individual and couples counseling and tincture of time.  Be gentle with each other.  Be honest with each other.  Talk.  It may actually make your marriage stronger.  It may not.  The general advice is not to make any drastic changes for at least a year after the loss of a child because it takes time to process the grief.

My marriage did not survive.  It's a long and personal story and not one I have the intent of ever sharing in a public forum.  Suffice it to say that our marriage was in trouble before Meghan died.  Her death certainly did not help that at all.  There were fundamental reasons why our marriage failed.  It was NOT because Meghan died.  Her death did catalyze a tremendous change in me, my beliefs and my view on life.  The decision to end my marriage was not made lightly, but it was, in the end, the best thing for all of us.

And for those who asked, I recently re-married.  I, of course, never expected to marry again.  In a twist of fate and the way the Universe works is amazing way, he was actually at Meghan's wake.  He was a friend of my sister's, although I did not know him until years later.  He had also seen her alive, a year before, at my sister's wedding.  He is now the proud step-dad of an angel.  He spoke of her in his wedding vows to me.  Not a dry eye in the house...

What about 'signs'

Yes.  I absolutely believe in signs.  This could be, and probably will be at some point, a post in and of itself.  I am highly intuitive and clairsentient and somewhat clairvoyant.  I always have been and sometimes it scares the hell out of me.  I have felt Meghan's presence, that of other deceased loved ones, and in my work the presence of the deceased loved ones of my patients when they are near death themselves.  I've been introduced to many who have crossed over by their still living loved ones in the hours and days before they themselves died.

I have only 'seen' Meghan in spirit once.  The night she died, in my grandmother's arms.  Truth be told, part of me really wants to see her in spirit and part of me is afraid.  Probably why I haven't seen her since.  Her twin used to see her all the time.  He talked to her and played with her.  He still gives me messages from her.

I've had many experiences of signs from Meghan. Details of which I'll save for another time and place, but the thing I see the most are heart clouds in the sky.  There is an album of some of my favorites on her Facebook page.  This one was at her brother's soccer game, near their birthday.

Ways to preserve the memory and creating new traditions

This is a very personal thing.  Here is a list of some of the things I have done or that people have done for me that I loved.

• A gift made of hand or foot prints.  We have the ones given to us by the ER nurses, I made reverse molds of the plaster heart hand and foot prints and gave them to family as ornaments.  Another person made a stained glass plate of her hand/foot prints for us
• Jewelry for mom:  I was given a mother and child necklace, several bracelets with Meghan's name,  a tiny tag necklace with the names of ALL my children, and lots of angel pins. My all time favorite piece is a pin made from one of her last drawings, given to me by a good friend.  We refer to it as 'potato Duncan'.   Another one of my favorite pieces is an angel wing necklace.  They are called Brooke's angel wings and Brooke is the survivor of a head injury from a furniture tip-over.  Her and her mom now make these necklaces to raise awareness and funds to pay for her medical bills.  http://www.brookesangelwings.com/
• House decor - we received lots of angels.  They are all over the house.
• Keepsake gifts. I scrapbook.  My scrapbook friends made a Tinkerbell pink picture frame of Meghan and wrote a poem inspired by a finger painting her brother had done after she died.  I'm looking at it right now.  Another friend made me a scrapbook page about Meghan and another an entire scrapbook about her. 
• Pictures - there are pictures of Meghan all over the house.  In her room.  Pictures of her with her brothers in their rooms.  I made both of her brothers a small scrapbook album of just pictures of them with their sister.
• Ornaments - every year, Santa leaves a Tinkerbell ornament in her stocking.  Her twin usually hangs it on the tree.  This year, it jumped off the tree and shattered.  Instead of getting upset, we laughed and said, "Oh, hi Meggie!  Guess you didn't like that one." 
• A memorial garden - I have one area that is a Meggie garden.  Pink roses, a butterfly bush, kitty garden statues and Tinkerbell decor abound.  
• Personalize their cemetery plot:  if your cemetery allows, make it about the child.  We chose her stone carefully.  We choose flowers in colors she'd like.  There are always kitty and Tinkerbell trinkets.  We bring new decor now and then.  Bird feeders and colorful twirly things in the summer time.  A pink tree at Christmas.  A bunny and a basket of eggs at Easter.  A kitty pumpkin at Halloween.  You get the idea.  
• Celebrate their birth day:  Meg was a twin, so we still celebrate her brother's birthday every year.  It is exquisitely painful to me on this day, probably the second hardest day of the year for me, because I see one where two should always have been. I bring her flowers and a balloon.  Every year since Meg died, we have a family cupcake picnic at the cemetery on their birthday.  We sing happy "bird" day with a suet cake.  We eat our cupcakes. We blow some pixie dust to the heavens and then we run around sill,y just like she used to, and sing "Tinkerbell all the way".  Anyone else at the cemetery that day thinks we're nuts.  We don't care.  It's about Meg, remembering and celebrating HER essence, her joy, her spunky-ness.  What better way than to emulate her?
• Gifts of honor - I received many notices of masses in Meg's honor, memorial candles with her prayer card on them, a tree planted in the Children's Forest in Israel, donations made in her memory to charitable organizations and especially to the Sterling Animal Shelter, where they received so many donations, they renovated their kitty adoption area and named it after Meghan.  
• Quilt:  I wanted to have a quilt made of some of Meghan's clothes.  Someone quickly volunteered.  Although I hated to part with that box of clothes, the gift I received in return is beautiful and now I can wrap myself in her in a way.  I can tell you what every scrap was from and what I or she loved about each item.  

•  Incorporate their life into yours:  Perhaps this is best noted as how I involved Meghan in my wedding day.  We had a chair for her.  I had a tiny picture of her on my bouquet.  We had her special candle centerpiece that we lit as we said the '5 candles' poem.  We had a memorial slide show. 
• 
• 

Perhaps the greatest gift you can give someone who has lost their child is remembering them out loud.  Say their name.  Talk about what you loved about them.  What you remember about them.  Send a card every year on their birthday, their angel day, Mother and Father's day.  Let them know you are thinking of them. That you know it's a difficult day for you, even if it's years and years later.  I promise you, their parents are already thinking of them.  To know their child was not forgotten is the best gift.

Specific to Meghan, the greatest gift I can receive now is the sharing of her story.

If you are a parent who has lost a child, the greatest gift you can give yourself is patience.  Allow yourself to feel what you feel.  Know it's a process.  Connect with those who you feel called to.  Be gentle with yourself.  Know your child's spirit and light will always live in your heart.  Let it shine!

I could write so much more, and will someday.  Hopefully this has been helpful on some level.

Wishing love, light and peace to all of those who have lost a child, a loved one or are supporting someone who has.

Fly High, Fly Free

December 22.  Three days until Christmas!  The excitement of the children.  The festive decorations.  The parties.  A gathering of family.  A joyous time of year.

Unless you have to plan or attend a funeral.  I encountered a funeral procession just this morning.  Hello trigger!  Not that it wasn't already on my mind, it just sort of slapped me in the face.  Eight years ago, I was the one in that first limo.  It's so difficult.

You've probably figured out by now that grief involves rituals.  At least for me.  In order to heal, one must move forward, yet must never forget.  My therapy is writing.  I do promise you, my posts going forward will not all be about Meghan or about topics that make readers uncomfortable or move them to tears.  That is not my intent. It is my hope that in sharing my experiences of this week eight years ago, that it not only helps me heal, but that it gives you a sense of what the depth of such a loss is. That you might have some insight into what might be going on inside my heart and head and indeed in the hearts and heads of anyone who has lost a loved one during this season or during their 'anniversary' week, whenever that may be.  That you understand that this is not about reliving the pain because I can't move forward.  It's about sharing my pain, my experiences, so that we can ALL grow, heal and move forward.  It's a process.  One that involves remembering even the difficult days.  There is no right or wrong way.  This is my way.  Once again, I thank you for walking with me.

Funerals are a ritual in which we, those left here on earth, have a formal chance to say good-bye.  It's a ritual of closure.  The burial of the physical body or for some.  It's a celebration of their life. A chance for all those who knew them to gather and share.  To remember the joy and laughter they brought to our lives.  It's a bittersweet mixture of laughter and tears.  It's a chance to gather in support of those left behind, that they need not grieve alone.

With the funerals of the 20 children lost in the Sandy Hook School shooting last Friday so prevalent in the media this week, I know many people are feeling for those families.  I saw the media there and thought what would I done if it were my child.  I'd have run out there and told them to go the hell home and let us mourn in peace! Families need privacy.  To be surrounded by friends, family and loved ones.  To feel as if they can truly grieve without it ending up on the evening news or the front page of the paper.  No one needs or wants their '15 minutes of fame' to be in such a personal moment of grief and pain.  I feel for those families.  On so many levels.

This is what the media can't show, could never know.

The morning of Meg's funeral we met at the funeral home for our last goodbye.  We all had one last chance to see her.  Our immediate family said goodbye, one by one, then left to get in their cars for the processional.  We were the last.  We said our goodbyes.  I kissed her one last time.  We all took a pink rose from an arrangement by her casket.  The director asked if I wanted her blankets or kitties.  I said no.  No sooner were we in the limo and I regretted it.  The casket had already been sealed.  She would've wanted them I rationalized.  But of course, she didn't need them.  She was not there.  Only her body was.  To this day, I really wish I had them...

The hearse pulled out of the driveway with her little white casket surrounded by her pink and white flowers visible through the windows.  Our family limo followed.  The boys thought it was pretty cool to ride in a limo!  I remember the traffic that was stopped on our town's main road at the intersections as we traveled the mile to the church.  Everyone knew it was her funeral.  It had been in the paper.  We are a small town.  I distinctly remember one woman bowing her head in her car, visibly crying, and make the sign of the cross as Meggie passed her car.  That's what moved me to tears first that day.

Our little processional arrived at the church.  The parking lot was overflowing.  I thought it odd, not that many people could have taken the day off to come.  We watched the last few people enter.  Then we walked in as a family of 4, instead of 5.  The church was packed, standing room only.  Nearly everyone was crying.  All eyes were on us.  I held my boys hands.  I was numb.  My head was spinny again.  I saw nothing but the red pointsettas at the altar.

Then, Meggie came in.  We were asked to place the pall, a decorative cloth, over her casket.  Her father and I did so with a little help from the boys.  When we were finished my husband briefly placed his head on her casket in a moment of grief.  Her twin, who I was holding in my arms, very quietly said "it's perfect".  And we took our seats.

There were two priests and a Deacon, my uncle, who had baptized her, officiating.  He delivered the homily. A neighbor did a reading.  Then, instead of another reading, a song was played on a CD player.  It was called "Visitor From Heaven" by Twila Paris.  It was beautiful and moving.  I don't remember much from the service.  I remember our priest asking if we wanted them to wait to decorate the church for Christmas until after her funeral the day before.  I said of course not!  I remember him giving me the choices for readings and hating them all.   I remember the choices for songs being easier and more appropriate but not what I really wanted.  

I had asked a friend at the last minute if she'd take a few photos.  Again, so the boys would have them to refer to should they ever wish to since they'd likely not remember.  I scrap-booked all of the photos from her wake and funeral.  It was good therapy for me.  I look at it every year this day.  My oldest son has never wanted to look at it.  Meg's twin has looked at it twice with me.

After the service we returned to the limo to wait for everyone to get in their cars for the very short drive to the cemetery.  I remember watching the people pour out of the church, being surprised to see some of the people there that I did.  I was touched.

We made the slow and short journey to the cemetery.  I remember seeing the officer stationed there to stop traffic fighting tears off.   I believe he was one of the first people at our house the day she died.  I was later told he had just had a baby girl himself.

As we gathered at her 'special place' at the cemetery for her burial, a brief prayer was said.  Her twin was holding a stuffed cat he had received as a gift the day before.  He wanted to play in the snow.  When it was over, I took the pink rose we had taken from the funeral home and placed it on her casket.  I remember saying "You always wanted to fly my angel, I love you".  Her twin placed his flower.  And another.  And another.  He asked if he could go in the special place with her. As if my heart could have broken any more that day...  Slowly, others did the same with flowers and left us alone.

I remember the funeral director coming to me and asking which way we wanted her body to lay relative to the 'head' stone.  He said he only asked because although it made no sense, having her head away from the road seemed a more peaceful rest.  I agreed and laughed.  She'd really have a 'foot' stone!  Sounded about right for Meg.  He handed us a bag of some of the things we had on display at the funeral home for the wake and hugged us.  We headed for home while they buried her casket.

We listened to that same CD of Meggie's favorite music in the limo.  We arrived home to "You can Fly".  Her twin couldn't wait to get out of the car and immediately threw himself into the snow and attempted to make a 3-year old snow angel.  A fitting tribute! We went into the house to find it full of family and friends and neighbors.  The food, my God, the food!  To be honest, although I understand the ritual, the last thing I wanted to do was be social.  I wanted everyone to go the hell home and leave us alone.  I had to make the boys lunch.  Ham cut with a Christmas Tree cookie cutter.  It was the only way they'd eat it.  I think I hid in my room most of the rest of that afternoon.  I just didn't want to be social.  What a stupid tradition, I thought.  Of course, it was more for everyone else than it was for me.  The support was definitely appreciated, I was just done and needed to be alone.

Eventually everyone left.  Not a moment too soon.  In the quiet, we looked in that bag.  Aside from the things we provided like the CD of music and pictures, we found an heirloom Bible, a Merry Christmas From Heaven ornament, bookmarks with her obituary laminated to them, the guest book from her wake, the extra prayer cards and the beautiful tribute tile with her picture and a poem the director's wife had made for us.  All gifts from them.  I was so touched by their kindness and thoughtfulness.

We later learned that they gifted us her funeral as well.  Such a kind and generous family.

We were and are so blessed to live in the community we do.  The support, even 8 years later, is still there.  In fact a neighbor called me just last night to ask how I was doing, knowing it was a difficult week for me.

December 22nd will always be a 'trigger' day for me.  One I endure with a heavy heart.  It is a day of significance in my life, even though everyone else who was there has likely forgotten or simply doesn't remember this was the day unless I mention it.  That's OK   I understand that.  My heart is heavy.  The day your bury your child is only second in painfulness to the day that they died.

That said, she had a beautiful service and a beautiful day.  I am so blessed to have had her in my life the 3 short years I did.  She truly was a visitor from Heaven.

As her Uncle Larry wrote on a note card to her that afternoon, "Fly High, Fly Free!"  She got her never-ending wish, she will forever 'fly in the sky', only now, it's among angels.  I'm the mom of an angel.  One of the happiest, most loving and sweet and yet loudest little angels you might have ever encountered.  Her light is bright and her love boundless.

Close your eyes and feel her.  Can you?  I can.

Say their names and remember their light

Today is December 9th.  It's the second Sunday of December.  For you, perhaps a day of shopping, baking, cleaning, holiday decorating or celebrating Hanukkah. 

For those of us who have lost a child, it's a special day of remembrance.  It's the Compassionate Friends Worldwide Candle lighting. You can visit their Web site here to learn more about this touching tribute and to sign or read their virtual guest book, available today only.  I made myself cry writing my entry. (7:50 am, CDT) I encourage you to at least read a few entries.  It will give you amazing perspective. Worldwide Candle Lighting

The Compassionate Friends are a bereavement support group for parents who have lost children of any age.  They are a wonderful resource and source of support.  Many local chapters arrange for events where they can come together as a community to light their candles and remember their children.  It's not just for parents.   Siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, extended family members and friends can attend or light a candle.

I often attend a local event that includes dinner, a ceremonial reading of names of the children of parents in attendance by their parents, lighting of a votive by their child's picture and hanging of an ornament on a tree for their child followed by readings and ending with the candle lighting and a period of quiet remembrance to the song  Tonight I Hold This Candle by Alan Pederson, written for his daughter, Ashley, after she died.  Take a listen, it's beautiful. We are a special community, we always welcome new members, although we wish there were never any members at all...My parents attend a ceremony in their retirement village, where people gather at a local church to remember their children and grandchildren.

The Compassionate Friends Web site encourages everyone to light a candle at 7 pm local time, wherever you are, to create a virtual 24 hour wave of light around the world to honor and remember those children gone too soon and to support their parents in their grief.  I assure you, I am not the only one you know who has lost a child.  Whether or not they have shared their loss may be a mystery, but everyone knows at least one person who has lost a child.  I pray you never know that pain.  We belong to a club no one wants to join and you can't quit.  We find comfort with each other, for no one else understands such a profound loss unless you've experienced it yourself.

What parents often want most after the death of their child is that they be remembered.  This is the poem that is read at our ceremony and at our home when we light our 5 candle 'Meggie candle'.

We Light These Five Candles

We light these five candles in honor of you, our children who have moved on to the next place.  For we know you are with us today in spirit, shining you love and light upon us.

The first candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It reminds us of the depth of our love for you.

The second candle represents our courage - to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other, and to change our lives for the greater good.

The third candle we light in memory of you - the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other, the silly things you did, and the caring and joy you gave us.

The fourth candle is the light of love. Every day we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. We thank you for the gift your living brought to each of us.

The fifth candle is the light of hope. It reminds us of love and memories of you that are ours forever. May the glow of the flame be our source of hopefulness now and forever.

We love you!

Another poem:

Please Say Their Names

The time of concern is over.

No longer are we asked how we're doing. Never are the names of our children mentioned to us.

A curtain descends.

The moment has passed.

Lives slip from frequent recall.

There are exceptions: close and compassionate friends, sensitive and loving family. Still look. Still ask. Still listen. Thank God for them.

For most, the drama is over. The spotlight is off. Applause is silent.

But for us the play will never end. The effects on us are timeless.

What can be said, you ask?

Please say "their names" to us.

Love does not die. 

Their names are written on our lives. The sound of their voices replay within our minds.

You may feel they are dead. We feel they are of the dead and still they live. They ghost-walk our souls, beckoning in future welcome.

You say, "They were our children"; we say, " They are".

Please say "their names" to us and say "their names" again. 

It hurts to bury their memory in silence. What they were in flesh is no longer with us. What they are in spirit stirs within us always. They were of our past but they are part of our now. They are our hope for the future.

Please understand we cannot forget. We would not if we could.

We know that you cannot know, yesterday we were like you.

Understand that we dwell in both flesh and spirit. We do not ask you to walk this road. The ascent is steep and the burden heavy. We walk it not by choice. We would rather walk it with them in the flesh, looking not to spirit worlds beyond.

We are what we have to be.

What we have lost, you cannot feel.

What we have gained you may not see.

Please say "their names" for they are alive. 

We will meet them again, although in many ways we’ve never parted. Their spirits play light songs, appear in sunrises and sunsets. They are real and shadow, they were and they are.

Please say "their names" to us and say "their names" again. They are our children and we love them as we always did. More each day.

PLEASE, SAY THEIR NAMES 

Author unknown

I hope you will join us tonight at 7 pm and light a candle.  Call to mind those children you are aware of who have passed on to the next place, whether you've met them or not.  Take a moment to remember them, pray for their parents, siblings and family members, that they may find comfort and peace in their loss and feel for a moment your own vulnerability as a human, parent or potential parent.  Say their names.  Remember them.  Then go hug your children.  

Tonight I will hold in my heart:

Meghan, Katie, Chloe, Nick, Thomas, John, Annalise, Katharine, Aiden, Aidan, Kai, Abby, Michael, Ethan, Owen, Issac, 'little bean', Molly, Patrick, and all the children whose names I don't know or cannot recall.  

Thank you.