Bereaved Parents Wish List


 I wish Holly hadn't died. I wish  I had her back. 

I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak Holly's name.
Holly lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that she was important to you also.

If I cry and get emotional when you talk about Holly, I wish you
knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. Holly's death is the cause of my tears.  You have talked about her and you haveallowed 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.
 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 Holly; my favorite topic of the day.
I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that Holly's death pains you too. I wish you would let me know these
things through a phone call, a card or note, or a real big hug.

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

I am working hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss  Holly and I will always grieve that she is gone.

I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to think about it" or "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 you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.

I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is
miserable for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.

When I say, "I'm doing okay", I wish you could understand that I don't "feel" okay and that I struggle daily.

     I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very 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 So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.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 it 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'm doing good to handle an hour at a time. 

              Please excuse me if I seem rude, 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. I wish you understood that grief changes people. When Holly died, a big part of me died with her. I am not the same person I was before Holly died and I will never be that person again.  
 
I wish very much that you could understand ~ understand my loss and my grief.
But....
I pray daily that you will never understand.

Dear Holly,
I can't believe it has been ten years since that awful day.  I never imagined that morning that that would be the last time I saw my precious Holly the way I had come to know her.  Realizing what a terrible injury you had to your brain and not being able to do anything about it was such a horrific feeling.  I knew in my heart that you would survive, and was so proud of you for the strength and determination you showed.  I thought the worst was behind us, and never imagined that you would die over six years later.  I am so proud that I am your Mother.  You are definitely a gift from God and an exceptional individual.  You earned your reward in heaven, but we miss and love you so.  I can't wait to look in those beautiful brown eyes again and see that smile.  I hope and pray that you are getting to do all the things you so wanted to do here on earth.  I love you forever.
Mom

Messenger of God

Oh, Little Butterfly,
Messenger of God,
When I see you in the sky
I cannot help but nod.
You bring me respite

From grief and dispair
Everytime I see you
Sailing through the air.
You renew my faith
In all God's wondrous plan,
And I know it's all in FAITH,
Not in what I understand.