To lose a child is to lose the very heart and soul of you. It is overwhelmingly disorienting. It takes a long, long time to find yourself again. It takes a long time to grow new life around the chasm of such grave loss. It takes a long time to grow beauty from ashes.
Recently, I was asked if it would be appropriate for a man to buy his wife a Mother's Day gift even after the loss of their unborn child.
After spending hours at the bedside of my precious Grandma Daisy, I stepped out of her room to make a brief telephone call. At that moment, Grandma Daisy died. When I began working in hospice, I witnessed similar experiences.
Grieving adolescents are often left to fend for themselves or are offered support from counselors outside their community immediately after an event. Such support may be unwelcome, particularly by adolescents.
In honor of my dad, Robert Michelson, one of the most incredible men who ever spent a little time on this planet -- and in honor of the pain and grief and wonder conjured by death -- I am sharing five things that I learned while helping him die.
When someone says: 'He's in a better place.' What the widowed are thinking is: 'Better than here with me?'