Day 2 instructions:
“Create a new mourning ritual. When you rise in the morning spend a few moments in silence and create space for yourself. Wherever you choose to do this, whether it is at the end of your bed as you wake up or out side with a cup of tea, take a few minutes to ground yourself. You can do this by either sitting on the ground or placing both feet flat on the floor. Take a good posture and close your eyes. Take some slow relaxing breaths in and out. Envision your child’s light burning bright like the sun from your heart. Once you feel calm, awake and present, dedicate your day to living for your child and set an intention for how you want your day be. Write it down and share it with us.”
I usually wake at the latest possible moment, squeezing all the milliseconds I can out of hitting snooze. This morning, though, I got up with my alarm and turned on my bedside lamp. I scooted upright, and opened my journal to the blank page (the one after my entry from the bank of the Arkansas after rafting), and closed my eyes.
I thought of Kade. Then I looked at the picture of him holding Asher on my wall. I sat with him for a quiet moment. If you’re not a bereaved parent this might sound crazy to you (or maybe it doesn’t):
It was nice having a little time with him. I’d been missing him. I need to hang out with him again soon.
My intention for the day came to me in the form of a bracelet I ordered from a site I follow, Hands Free Mama. My bracelet reads,
“Only love today.”
There was my intention.
I found my bracelet, jotted my intention, added a little love note, “captured my grief” (snapped my picture), and felt calm and ready for the day.
Starting my morning slowly, mindfully, and by setting an intention was a brilliant change of pace. I will try to do that for at least the rest of October’s Capture Your Grief, and maybe it will become a habit beyond.
he wore flannel 
Thank you for sharing your journey and your pain with us. We lost my stepson ten years ago. As devastating as that was, I still can’t fathom the depths of pain that losing a natural child would bring. Mark was only in my life a few short years – and it still took many years to find a new normal after his death.
FYI – I’m working on an anthology about mothers that have lost children. I have a call for submissions out that closes at the end of the month. I’m attaching a link here, as I can’t figure out how to private message you about it. My apologies for posting in a public forum about it. I wanted to let you know about it, in case you’re interested. http://www.trishafaye.com/call_for_submissions
One of my favorite quotes, by David Eagleman is:
“There are three deaths. The first is when the body ceases to function. The second is when the body is consigned to the grave. The third is that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time.”
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First I have to say it really caught me that the water of the Arkansas moves in the picture. I immediately thought of Kade rafting. Sometimes I think Kade makes little signs. Then I get caught in–if there are little signs, why can’t there be big signs? I like Only Love Today. It is comforting.
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