Simple Joys At Home

This day, Friday, May 29th, 2015, holds a lot of significance for our family.  Two months ago today, we lost the littlest member of our family .  Four years ago today, my aunt died in a tragic car accident.  And seventeen years ago today, my oldest brother, the one who made me a big sister, was born.  This week is unarguably one of the busiest weeks in the year for us. With four birthdays in the space of six days, this week is known as "birthday week" to us. In some ways, it's like Christmas broken up and spaced out over those six days. The rush and busyness, the last minute treat-making, the hurriedly wrapping gifts, and the celebrating.  But in all the busyness, there is grief and reflections.  Losing a sibling was/is undoubtedly one of the hardest things I've walked through . I never even met her, and yet the ache is so deep. I don't understand the why.  "Why?" Was brought up a few weeks ago, when we released balloons ...

You know that I hurt, that I'm grieving. But it's awkward for you. I get that. Maybe you haven't been there, or maybe you were to young to understand or remember.  You find yourself in an awkward position - you want to be a comfort, but you don't know what to do or say. I know. We've all had our turn being there, not knowing what to do or say, how to respond. Maybe you stay away, because you don't know if you would be welcome, or even if you were, what you would say. Maybe you reach out, because you have been there, and you know . Maybe you're forced into being there and you offer the best words of comfort that you know how, but it's still awkward, uncomfortable. But here's the thing - there are no perfect words. Sometimes there are no words at all.  When death crosses your path, nothing else anyone can say or do will heal your broken heart. And that's okay. Yes, there are some things that comfort, and some things that sti...