Grieving Parents' Wish List

I found some amazing websites that have really encouraging messages for grieving parents and those around them. I'll share them along the way. One in particular was made by a mom that lost three babies but is able to write from a healthy place of healing - a place I hope to one day be. (the healthy place, not the part about losing three babies!) She has great notes, suggestions, and encouragement for friends/families of bereaved parents. The site is: http://members.aol.com/panther50/MyAngels/griefinf.htm
Here's something I found I wanted to share and I added a few of my own items to this list. It's a little long, but says it so well. A number of our friends have mentioned to me that they've appreciated what I share because it helps them know how to interact with me/us.
Well, here's a list! :)

GRIEVING PARENT'S WISH LIST

I wish my child hadn't died. I wish I had my child back in my arms.

I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my child's name. I loved her name and look for every opportunity to speak it. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that my child was important to you also.

If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child I wish you knew it isn't because you upset me. My child's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.

Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you now more than ever and will need you even more in the months to come, not less. I may not be able to reach out to you, so please reach out to me.

I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my child. That is my favorite topic of the day.

(to read the rest, please click on the post title above)

I wish to know that you think and pray for me often. I also want to know that my child's death pains you, too. I wish that you would let me know those things through a phone call, a note, or a really big hug.

I wish you knew how I appreciate it when you say “call me if you need anything” but wish you know it’s almost impossible for me to do.

I wish you knew how much it means to me when you call or write, but hope you also will understand how hard it can be for me to call or write back. I just don't know how to connect, but appreciate your efforts to do so with me as I so want to connect with someone.

I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. These first months are traumatic for me, but I wish that you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.

I am working on my recovery but I wish that you could understand that I will never fully recover. This tragedy has changed who I am. I will always miss my child and will always grieve that my child is gone.

I wish that you would not expect me "not to think about it" or to "be happy." Neither will happen for a very long time, so don't frustrate yourself.

I don't want to have a "pity party" but I do wish that you would let me grieve in whatever way I need to today. I must hurt before I heal.

I wish that you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I am miserable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I appreciate when you invite me to be real. Please be patient with me as I learn to do that.

When I say "I'm doing ok," I wish that you could understand that usually I don't "feel" at all, let alone, "feel ok" and that I struggle daily in different ways.

I wish you knew all of the grief reactions that I'm having are normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn, or irritable and cranky.

Your advice to "take one day at a time" is excellent advice. However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I am struggling to handle one hour at a time.

Please excuse me if I seem rude, that's certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone, making sure I'm not alone too long.

I wish that you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died too. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.

I wish very much that you could understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void, and my pain. But I pray that you never have to truly understand.