grief and grace and gratitude

 There should be another "gr" word in the title of this blog...growth.   In the 3+ years since my dad died, I have tried to minimize my grief.  And then my brother died.  And then my mom died.  And then we lost Christopher, our only child. (I smile when I write that, thinking of how he called himself a "single child" when he was little.) Grief on grief on grief on grief...and I kept trying to make it smaller so it didn't overwhelm me.  My grief counselor told me that I would be in a relationship with grief for the rest of my life.  Okay, fine.  No choice there, but at least I could make grief more compact so it didn't demand so much space, right?  So it wasn't so noticeable. I'd rather carry around a marble-sized grief than a bowling ball-sized grief every day of my life.   In case you are wondering how it's going, pick up the next bowling ball you see and try to squish it.  Same for me.  Shrinking grief is as impossi...

 There is a headstone in Loveland Burial Park with my name on it.  After Christopher's accident, we bought 3 cemetery plots and ordered a 9 foot long headstone for all 3 plots.  The middle plot is occupied by Christopher and the headstone bears his name, birthdate, and the date he left this life.  Joe and I have only our names and birthdates on either side of Christopher's.  It is evidence that we existed, chiseled in stone, and a strange reminder that this life is going to end.  That stone is not the only mark that Christopher left on this earth and I don't want it to be the only evidence of my life either. Yesterday, an adult friend of Christopher's, someone he had worked with, came to see me.  He is getting married this summer and he wants to honor Christopher at his wedding by having a picture of him there.  If Christopher were alive, he would definitely be there to celebrate with his friend.  It reminded me that Christopher left footprin...

 Some people would call them inner circle friends, but I call them trench friends.  These are the people who sit in the pit of despair with me, hold my hand, and hand me tissues when I cry.  Sometimes figuratively and sometimes literally.  These are the friends that show up for the worst of times...and the best of times and everything in between.   My life is blessed with trench friends.  Physical proximity is not a requirement.  I have one who lives hundreds of miles away.  There are others in my church community and in my school community.  And I'm grateful that my husband is always in the trenches with me. I had an "aha" moment this morning at church about my trench friends.  A bit of background first...I've been talking with one of my trench friends about how to be a trench friend.  Can anyone be a trench friend?  Is it a learned skill or something we just know?  What is it that makes someone a trench friend?...

 You might find it hard to believe, but in the span of 2.5 years, I lost my dad, my 50 year old brother, my mom, and my 16 year old son.  I am the only survivor of the family that I was born into.  The first three left me broken, but the loss of my only child left me demolished.  What is my identity now?  Who am I?  A question that often plagues me.  I'm still the wife of Joe Karr and for that I am grateful!  I will always be the daughter of Dave and Deanna Dow and the sister of Dan Dow.  Why is it that I question whether I am still mom to Christopher Karr?  I gave birth to him on November 17, 2006 and carried him everywhere with me for 9 months before that.  How is that negated by his untimely death?  It isn't.  I will always be Christopher's Mama Bear.  Forever.  I just don't get to love him here on earth anymore.   My greatest joy and purpose in life is being Christopher's mom.  He is my miracle...