I posted this piece some years ago. I think it’s worth sharing again for all the newbies who, like you and me, have been forced to join our ranks. My friend, whether your sorrow is from losing a beloved child to suicide (my story) or another cause, or you have lost another family member we all agree that we have deep grief in common. So I share a bit of my story, a moment frozen in time and stored in my broken heart.
It was a dark night. A few stars escaped the blanket of clouds and twinkled in the night sky. It was late. Our neighbors were tucked in behind closed doors and pulled shades so we had the street to ourselves. Chirping crickets and other noisy insects blended their voices in a choir of sorts to serenade us in the humid night air.
Our footsteps beat a rhythm as we passed house after house. This was no ordinary night walk. This one was special. It had never been shared before and would never be again. A group of family members from near and far had gathered together for one purpose. We were mourning the loss of our son, brother, nephew, cousin, and grandson.
This walk wasn’t for exercise. We had been told that there was something special for us if we stepped outside and walked down our street. So that is what we were doing together.
It was a moonless night with very few street lamps to light our way, but we had light. Nearly every home we passed had a lit candle in the window just for us.
The candles were a gift from the children in our church who wanted us to know that they were sad, too. In this quiet, thoughtful way they were sharing their love. The children, in the guiding hands of their teacher, had decorated electric candles by adding a card and bow to each one. They went to each neighbor on our street and invited them to set a candle in their front window to show us that they, too, felt our loss.
The card read: “One candle in the window. One life remembered, showing that our love, support, and prayers are surrounding you.”
One could hear muffled sobs, mostly mine. I was powerless to stop the flow of tears as I saw one lit candle after another in the neighboring windows. I felt surrounded by the love and prayers from each home.
As I look back years later, I see that the lit candles were yet another way our higher power was surrounding us with his warmth and love. His heart was broken, too. Through the hearts of young children and neighbors, he was reaching down to hold us.
There have been many memories created during this time of sorrow, but the candles . . . some lit for a long time . . . were a glowing reminder that my God cares, remembers, and so do his children.
Those of you who have been on your grief journey long enough to look back, please share a story you have tucked in your heart to encourage us all. No matter how long it’s been we will never forget our children and other loved ones we have lost. Greg, I will love you always, baby. Although my firstborn lived 30 years, he is still my baby and fits perfectly in my broken heart.
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17
From Shattered by Suicide by Gracie Thompson (pen name)
Verse shared from New International Version (NIV)
Hope after Suicide 