Christmas

Two thousand years ago, God sent his only Son to save a sinful world.  Mary gave birth to a baby boy who would one day save her soul.  God knew on the cold, lonely night that one day, His baby boy would die with the sins of the world on his shoulders. But he still allowed Mary and Joseph to raise that little boy, to love and care for him with all they had.

Eight years ago, I had a baby boy whom I love with all my heart.  I cared for him, kept him safe and healthy.  I kissed his boo-boo’s and brushed his hair, just a Mary did for Jesus.  Mary had Jesus for 33 years, before watching him take his last breath.  I had Luke for 7 years, before cradling him while he took his last breaths.

I firmly believe Jesus met Luke in the water.  He held my baby boy and kept him from being afraid.  I KNOW  Luke is with Jesus now, planning a huge birthday party for the King of Kings.  I am pretty sure Luke is trying to convince Christ to have spaghetti and chocolate cake for his birthday party, maybe even spaghetti taco’s.

Merry Christmas baby boy, give Jesus a birthday hug for me and please don’t try to give him birthday spankings!  I know you can count that high, that’s not the point.

Haven't you moved on yet?

It has been 15 months since Luke died.  15 months since I hugged and kissed my baby boy.  To say a lot has happened in the time would be a gross understatement.  To say life has been hard would be like trying to fill a bucket with an eye dropper.  We have all changed.  J, K, and I are different than we were 14 months ago.  We still get up every morning; we still go to school and work.  The kids play, bills are paid and the cats are fed.  Sometimes, everything is done all on the same day. 

I have started to hear, it’s been a year already, aren’t you over it yet?  You can’t use Luke as an excuse the rest of your life, you need to get over it and move on.  You have to start living again.  Life goes on… the kids need…. (Whatever the person decides the kids need.)

So here is my reply to “Aren’t you over it yet?”  No, I am not over losing Luke.  No, my kids aren’t over losing their baby brother.  We will never “Get Over It.”   If you lost your arm in an accident tomorrow, would you ever “Get Over It?”  I don’t know, but I do know you will have a part of you missing for the rest of your life.  You will learn to do things with your other arm, you will probably become very efficient at living life with just one arm, but there will always be a part of you missing.  There will be times when you forget about that missing arm and try to use it. Then the pain and knowledge of the missing limb will hit you life a punch in the gut.   There will be times you would give anything to have that arm back, even if just for a few minutes.

I didn’t lose my arm, I lost my child.  The child I carried inside of me for 9 months, the child I rocked to sleep, the child I caught when he would hold his breath until he passed out.  The little boy who would hide in cabinets, text me while standing in front of me, launch himself into my arms from across the room, the snuggle bunny who wanted to hear Jack and the Beanstalk before bed, and then tell me he was too scared to sleep alone.

This amazing little boy was ripped from our lives.  There was no long lingering illness; there wasn’t knowledge that he would be living this world after a just seven short years.  I talked to him on the phone, told him I loved him and would see him the next day. 30 minutes later, he was gone.

So as hard as I try to keep life going for my two living kids and myself, as hard as I try not to use Luke as an excuse for a bad day, for the kids misbehavior, for the constant stomach ache and short temper, it is because my baby died. 

I know teachers are tired of hearing me explain what my kids have been through in the last 15 months, and I don’t want the kids to use Luke as an excuse for poor school performance and bed behavior.  I don’t want to use Luke as an excuse for missing work and trouble concentrating.  But sometimes, that is what it is.  Sometimes, like now, there is no amount of deep breathing, going to a happy place or breathing in a bag that can stop the tears and not being able to catch our breath. 

I still haven’t figured out how to live life without Luke.

God Winks/Lukie Smiles

I went to Starbucks Thursday after work, something I rarely do.  I usually go on the weekend, whatever morning I open.  Sitting in the drive-thru, I had the overwhelming urge to pay for the car behind me.  I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw a very expensive car, with a very nicely dressed woman on her cell phone.  I thought, surely, this woman can afford to pay for her order, she has a nicer car than me, is dressed nicer than me and I only have so much on my Starbucks card.

The more I argued with myself, the more I felt like I was Supposed to pay for this woman’s order.  I argued until I got the window.  While I was waiting for the person to open the window, a large brown wrapper from a Reese cup flew by my windshield and landed on the window ledge.  That has never happened, but I took at as a sign from God and Luke (Reese’s were his favorite candy) that I was going to buy this woman’s order whether I wanted to or not.  I asked the person at the window how much the lady’s order was, and it ended up being less than $3.00.  I had enough money on my card to pay for it.  So I paid.  The person in the window smiled and said she loved it when people did pay for the next person.

There were no bells and whistles, I didn’t win the lottery the next night, (darn!) but I felt like Luke was smiling down on me.  I will never know why I had to pay for that person, but I hope it brought a little bit of happiness to her day.

Grief and Life after Loss

Earlier today, I shared a post on Facebook about grief and losing friends after a loss.  It could describe my life to a tee.  Some people used Luke's accident and death to make themselves look good, while they were there for the kids and me in the hospital, then quickly disappeared again, and others have just stopped talking to me, and others have tried to get closer so they can be in the know, or to make themselves look good or feel better about themselves.  There has been a small, core group of people who have truly been there for me.  They have dealt with my tears, my mood swings and my crazy ramblings.  I am incredibly grateful for them.

However, I am getting the feeling that they think I should be "Over it" by now.  After all, Luke has been gone for over a year now.  We have been through all is first milestone's.  There should not be any more bad days.  Or they should be few and far between.  When I am having a bad time, it is an excuse to get out of something.

Here's the thing. I am NOT over losing my baby boy.  I will NEVER get over it.  I know from experience, the pain will lessen, it will become more bearable and I will be able to breathe on a regular basis.  But that will take years.  Even then, there will still be days that take my breath away.  The day his class graduates high school, when Jon and Katie get married, have babies, other life events where there is a hole where Luke should be.  

There are still days when it is like a sucker punch to the gut.  Days when the grief becomes too much to bear, when I can barely pull myself from the bed, much less walk to the living room or beyond.  I don’t know what else to say except until you have walked a day in my “Ugly Shoes”, don’t judge my grief.

Ugly Shoes

A Pair of Shoes

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.

Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.

Yet, I continue to wear them.


I get funny looks wearing these shoes. They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.


To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.


Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think
about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.


Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

What do you say?

What do you say to a parent who has lost a child? You say, “Hi.” You say you say, “I have been thinking about you.”  “I have been thinking about your child.” You ask about other family members. You listen when I talk about my child. You cry with me, and you aren't afraid of my tears. Sometimes crying with someone else is just the release I need. You laugh when I tell stories of my baby.  My son was a very smart and funny little boy and not a day goes by something does not remind me of a Luke story.  You say his name.