Before and After, by Jimae

Before and After

by Jimae Kenney, Mom

Forever the demarcation

In the life that I call mine

The day to day occurrences

Before and after on that line.

Before we were a family

Held together by joy and love.

Our day to day activities

Appreciation for gifts from above.

Before I was always focused

On what to do today-

What time do I have to be there

And what do I need to say?

I felt like I was in the service

Of my family and fellow man.

I was good at what I committed to

Completing tasks and caring for others

Almost faster than I ran.

After life was forever changed

We were still a family unit

But the depth and breadth of our understanding

Were magnified in our comprehension of it.

The heavy scent of flowers-

The sounds of bagpipe strains-

The cold and ice of winter

Bring back the empty pains.

Especially now at Halloween

Your favorite time of year-

The tricks and jokes you were up to

Leaving us all to fear.

Oh the memories of your spirit

How caring and loving you were.

And now you’re gone we hold inside

The warmth of your strength so sure.

And with that comes a peace,

A stillness in our hearts-

Though broken, they are stilled

A song that cries within our parts.

Before I had thirty two years

Now, after is only two

My continuum of understanding

And memories of you

Encourage me to continue

To go forth each and every day

With renewed understanding of the plan of life

And constantly in my heart I pray

For understanding of the truth

Of knowledge that is our sacrifice in seeing-

As we release our beloved son To the Heavens

Of our father and brother of greater being.

So, is this how our Heavenly Father felt

When he gave his only begotten son?

Did the grief and pain underlie

All that is ever done?

After

So, now today, I often wonder

Did I teach you all that you needed to know

To get through time and eternity

And what to do so you will continue to grow?

Did you learn what you needed to be?

Truth be told, upon that day –

Two years ago our life was forever altered

Now all of us can say

We are to take these things we know-

Those things we need to do

To be the people on this earth

To act in place of you.

Embracing the Full Weight of Loss

I read a blog by a woman, Molly Jackson, who lost her daughter when she choked on a tiny piece of apple.  Molly has started a blog called "Hope Smiling Brightly, life after loss".  I enjoy reading about her advice on how to heal after someone close to you dies. 

Molly participated in a documentary called "After the End, a Journey through loss to hope."  I saw the preview and it looks pretty great.  Here is what Molly had to say about it:

I hope you'll share his article, and more importantly, the movie, with those you know who might need it. All of us will need it at some point. We all will have to learn to embrace the full weight of loss so we can let it create a space for healing. And we will likely have to do it more than once. 

I'm so thankful for all that my loss has taught me. I'm not thankful for my loss. I'm thankful for what it has taught me. I'm thankful for the opportunity I had to be a part of this fantastic film project. I'm thankful there are people out there willing to share their stories, willing to live and love fully--not in spite of their loss, but because of their loss. I'm thankful there are people with the talents and the drive to create projects like these. I'm just so thankful to know that I am not alone. 

And I agree with Molly, sometimes all you need to be able to keep going is to know that you are not alone. 

Blessings of Compensation

As I think about Tiffany and her two sweet girls, Brooklyn and Zelda now facing the fresh pain of losing their Daddy, I recall a beautiful letter Grandpa Bodell wrote for Joshua and Jasmine soon after David's accident.  There are many words of wisdom here for the sweet little spirits left to grow up without their Dad on earth.  My heart breaks just thinking about the pain they are facing right now.  I know it is hard to imagine, but I think somehow, Heavenly Father blesses these children with added measures of blessings for their trials. If these kids can turn out as great as our Grandpa, then they will be more than okay one day.

I love what Elder Wirthlin had to say about the "Blessings of Compensation" 

"The thing we can do is understand the principle of compensation. The Lord compensates the faithful for every loss. That which is taken away from those who love the Lord will be added unto them in His own way. While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude."
You can find the entire talk here:  https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2008/10/come-what-may-and-love-it?lang=eng

All my love to Joshua, Brooklyn, Jasmine and Zelda.

 


December 19, 2011

Dear Joshua and Jasmine,

It is with a heavy heart that I approach this but I feel I want to share my love of your Father that I have always had for him. As for all my grandkids it’s hard to tell anyone of the love that I have for each of you. You are special.

You see, I was five years old when my Daddy was taken back to live with our Father in Heaven, so I can understand a little of your hurt and sadness that you are going through, and will go through the rest of your life.

There were times as I grew up that I asked, “Why haven’t I a Father that I can talk to, to help me make up my mind—I need help—I need a father to help. I was blessed to understand why at my young age. I still had someone to go to, to help me find the answers. Yes, I can remember the wet pillows as I would go to sleep. As I would wake for a new day I would find that life was there and I knew that I had two Fathers there to help me through the day— my earthly Father and my Heavenly Father. I grew up knowing that I was able to have two fathers that loved me and cared about what happened to me.

You are blessed, as I was, with a great woman for a mother that loves you. Listen to her. She will be blessed as I was. Your father will always be close to inspire and do what is best for you. Things will come throughout your life that you will look back and see where your Dad has blessed you even though he hasn’t been here on this earth.

Your Dad was kind of like me, your great-grandfather. He liked doing things and building things that would make others happy. He loved to do things that would make kids happy. He was kind to everyone. He hated the bully ones. He didn’t like to see someone get picked on.

I’m thrilled to know that we can go on learning together. Maybe we will be able to build a world together.

I know that the time seems long before this can all happen. But I am sure it will if we can live a “Christ Like” life.

You are so young that it is just words to you now, but as you grow you will understand how much we love you and how much we are “glad you came to our house to live”. Thanks for choosing us. Your Father was one of the best, if for no other reason, and there are many of them, he made it possible for us to have you.

With all my love,

Great Grandpa Bodell

Grieving is a lifelong experience

Many of us Kenney's met new friends last week as we attended the funeral services for our cousin, Ryan.  Our hearts and prayers have continually gone out to Ryan's wife Tiffany and their two sweet girls, as well as Ryan's parents and sisters.  We will be eternally in debt to the Gates family who rushed to our sides the moment they heard of David's accident. 

While I do not wish this type of grief on anyone, I am grateful for the knowledge of this gospel, and the peace it brings to my heart.  If there is anything I have learned in the past 21 months, it is that we are not alone.  I am grateful to have the opportunity to pay our Savior's love forward to another family in need. 

I first came across this article within the week of David's death.  I know it spoke to me as this new grief felt like a huge piano being dropped in on the play called my life. I think for the most part, the piano has been moved to the upper right corner of the stage, still there, always adding to the music of my life. 

much love to the Conley and Gates families.....

STEVEN KALAS:

When you lose a child, grieving is a lifelong experience

When our first child is born, a loud voice says, “Runners, take your marks!” We hear the starting gun and the race begins. It’s a race we must win at all cost. We have to win. The competition is called “I’ll race you to the grave.” I’m currently racing three sons. I really want to win.

Not everyone wins.

I’m here at the national meeting of Compassionate Friends, an organization offering support and resources for parents who lose the race. I’m wandering the halls during the “break-out” sessions. In this room are parents whose children died in car accidents. Over there is a room full of parents of murdered children. Parents of cancer victims are at the end of the hall. Miscarriages and stillbirths are grouped together, as are parents who have survived a child’s suicide. And so it goes.

In a few minutes, I’m going to address Compassionate Friends. This is the toughest audience of my life. I mix with the gathering crowd, and a woman from Delaware glances at my name tag. Her name tag has a photo of her deceased son. My name tag is absent photos.

“So … you haven’t … lost anyone,” she says cautiously.

“My three sons are yet alive, if that’s what you’re asking me,” I say gently.

She tries to nod politely, but I can see that I’ve lost credibility in her eyes. She’s wondering who invited this speaker, and what on earth he could ever have to say to her.

My address is titled “The Myth of Getting Over It.” It’s my attempt to answer the driving questions of grieving parents: When will I get over this? How do I get over this?

You don’t get over it. Getting over it is an inappropriate goal. An unreasonable hope. The loss of a child changes you. It changes your marriage. It changes the way birds sing. It changes the way the sun rises and sets. You are forever different.

You don’t want to get over it. Don’t act surprised. As awful a burden as grief is, you know intuitively that it matters, that it is profoundly important to be grieving. Your grief plays a crucial part in staying connected to your child’s life. To give up your grief would mean losing your child yet again. If I had the power to take your grief away, you’d fight me to keep it. Your grief is awful, but it is also holy. And somewhere inside you, you know that.

The goal is not to get over it. The goal is to get on with it.

Profound grief is like being in a stage play wherein suddenly the stagehands push a huge grand piano into the middle of the set. The piano paralyzes the play. It dominates the stage. No matter where you move, it impedes your sight lines, your blocking, your ability to interact with the other players. You keep banging into it, surprised each time that it’s still there. It takes all your concentration to work around it, this at a time when you have little ability or desire to concentrate on anything.

The piano changes everything. The entire play must be rewritten around it.

But over time the piano is pushed to stage left. Then to upper stage left. You are the playwright, and slowly, surely, you begin to find the impetus and wherewithal to stop reacting to the intrusive piano. Instead, you engage it. Instead of writing every scene around the piano, you begin to write the piano into each scene, into the story of your life.

You learn to play that piano. You’re surprised to find that you want to play, that it’s meaningful, even peaceful to play it. At first your songs are filled with pain, bitterness, even despair. But later you find your songs contain beauty, peace, a greater capacity for love and compassion. You and grief — together — begin to compose hope. Who’da thought?

Your grief becomes an intimate treasure, though the spaces between the grief lengthen. You no longer need to play the piano every day, or even every month. But later, when you’re 84, staring out your kitchen window on a random Tuesday morning, you welcome the sigh, the tears, the wistful pain that moves through your heart and reminds you that your child’s life mattered.

You wipe the dust off the piano and sit down to play.

Copyright: Las Vegas Review-Journal

You Are Not Alone Lyrics (Michael Jackson)

Im a big MJ fan...

Where Can I Turn For Peace/ Be Still My Soul

To our dear Tiffany and all who love her and Ryan. May you feel His love today and forever.

The Plan of Salvation

A friend of a friend lost her son this week and I wanted to find something to share that would hopefully bring them some solace. In searching, I decided to post this link here on David's blog for all of us as well. Perhaps we can learn something for ourselves in our own continued grief ...