A bit of heart-string tugging (WARNING!!)

My posting from earlier this a.m. was to compensate for none yesterday, in case anyone is confused by the multiple postings.

The format to be used is one my friend, Jami, does in her blog though I will not make it a steady style for mine---it will just present better with the stray thoughts being assembled. This format will be named, for now, as Stray Thought Gathering:

A couple recent ‘conversations’, some in person and some via the Internet, have brought some things to mind. This might not be particular to coming off of the “Timmy Week” but the situations others are facing. Thought provoking and memory-stirring, even memory-restoring things.

© One of my friends from church wrote to me about picturing Timmy sitting on my lap in church, wearing a party hat. Those are the kind of things I hang on to, and depend upon others to help me remember. Frankly, I had forgotten about that and thanked Kristi for triggering this memory for me again.

© Hand prints, whether on glass doors or dipped in finger paint, are cherished more if the maker of them is gone.

© Counting the days, the months, the years, the decades of when a loved one left for Home is not outside the realm of normal. It IS normal and IS natural and may be part of the ritual used to grieve. Not everyone will do this, but those who do it now, or did it then, are normal. And when a person loses count, it does not mean they have forgotten their loved one, only that they lost count…maybe it was just time.

© Those mourning losses are more than only the mom and father---remember the siblings, the aunts and uncles, the grandparents, the godparents, the pastors, the classmates, the teachers, the church family, the neighbors, the family friends, the doctors and nurses the loved one interacted with, and others are most certainly grieving along with you. Let them.

© Everyone handles the loss of a loved one in their own way. Make yourself available to them and accept the fact that perhaps the person or people wish to be left alone. Honor that for a while, but then remind them or those around them that you care, send a card, make a phone call to them (DO NOT WAIT to be called!), offer to help write the ‘thank you’ cards for the money gifts or flowers or food donations. You don’t have to talk, but you do have to listen! Hugs go a long way, too.

© In my own case, I was in need of information, in need of something documented. My other friend, who lost a baby, did too. Something to hold on to. The police department sent me the police report, the fire department gave me their paperwork, and the investigators of the accident returned the toys, blanket, dog toys, and whatever else they gathered from the patio that night, in an Evidence Bag.

©When someone has a miscarriage, a stillbirth, an infant, a school-aged child, a young adult, or any one else dear to them who died, the loss is great, and should be acknowledged, whether a breath was ever taken or not.

© Things a person would not ordinarily be ‘upset’ by otherwise are now upsetting. The sound of sirens, particularly rescue vehicle sirens, make my hair stand up and might have me stop in my tracks momentarily, although, oddly enough, I cannot say I remember hearing them that night. I must have, but I don’t remember. For those who have lost infants, a baby crying can stir emotions, or for those whose kids were older, hearing other parents discuss their problems regarding kids can cause heartache. There is nothing the grieving person can do about that, it just happens and that’s it. Not every single time, but at just the right time, it seems in my case.

© A person experiencing a loss in their lives will find comfort in the little things left behind, like the green plastic knife used to buy just the right colored shirt Timmy wanted for his dad, for Christmas. The nice clerk at SteinMart took Timmy around the men’s department to find the shirt as close to the green as possible, as I hung back. A few weeks later the same sales clerk helped Justin find a suit to wear for his brother’s funeral and remembered helping Timmy select his dad’s shirt. The knife is in the memory box in my foyer hallway, alongside a toothbrush with toothpaste yet on it.

My apologies if this caused you any upset but I had to write it down and get it said. Hugs to everyone, whether you need one or not!