Tag Archives: Grief

Lavender Wreath

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Today marks twenty-three years since Jamie’s last day on earth. I woke up early this morning, as I do. Bleary-eyed, I read a couple of sweet messages from dear friends, delivered while I had slept. I have written something most years (all years?) on this anniversary of the worst day of my life. Today, though, I wasn’t certain I would write. I wasn’t sure I needed to. Or if I really had anything to say. 

That changed the moment I got into my work truck and both saw and smelled a small wreath of lavender someone had left on the rearview mirror. 

A few days after Jamie died, Danielle, his sister, requested a viewing. I had a visceral, negative reaction to this idea. I had always found the notion of viewings unsettling and awkward. After sitting with it for a couple of days, I decided that if it was important to Danielle, I would let go of my own discomfort. It would just be attended by a small group of family and friends.

The day we went to the mortuary, we were led into the room where Jamie’s body was laying. The woman who showed us in gently warned us that we should be careful with the right side of his face. I was shaking, filled with anxiety. As I saw Jamie, an indescribable heap of feelings came over me— just overwhelming. A combination of grief, horror, love, gratitude, anxiety, presence, aloneness, togetherness, and things I don’t even know how to put into words. We gathered around him, talking to him, loving him, gently touching him. One of us put a couple of drops of lavender oil on his forehead. I will never forget the scent. It was a mixture of lavender and death. To this day, it is hard for me to smell lavender without at least a touch of the death part wafting in.

I don’t enjoy the notion of “closure”, and that is not what the viewing provided. For me, the most poignant thing that happened was seeing Jamie for the last time appearing close to what he looked like before the accident, which was in stark opposition to what I had seen in those last devastating moments at Children’s Hospital. 

As I write this, I imagine if I were the one who had put that lavender wreath in the truck, and were reading this now, I would be feeling really concerned that I had inadvertently touched a raw nerve. However, that is not what happened for me. It was a beautiful, synchronous thing for me to experience. I was very grateful for that lavender wreath. 

Later this morning, I mentioned the lavender wreath to a dear work friend and, without telling the story, mentioned that there was this serendipitous aspect to it appearing there. My friend asked, cautiously, if it may have had anything to do with Jamie. She had no way of knowing, and at least consciously did not know the significance of today’s date. I said it did, and then she told me that Jamie had been in her dream last night! She had been unsure of whether to mention it, but I am glad she did!

Throughout the day, there were other Jamie connections and signs. I’ll keep some of them between me and Jamie, but they kind of kept coming.

I miss him. I love him forever. I’m grateful for the time we shared — and for the quiet, subtle ways he still touches my life.

Mychael
Jamie’s Dad

Anny by Elene Bratton

 Anny, I went to your funeral today. A funeral of a person I don’t even know. A 28-year-old passed away just a few days before she would be 29. My son would have been 28 this year, but he passed away a month before sixth birthday. You guys might have known each other had he been allowed to grow up. If you had known each other, would he have influenced you not to have died a few days before your 29th birthday? Sounds like you had a beautiful life. And a lot of great influences. I know your dad and your grandma on your dad’s side. But I knew very few people at your service. I didn’t want to hear that God had plans for you, and this is all as it was supposed to be. Nobody’s supposed to die a few days before their 29th birthday, no one’s supposed to die with a 9-year-old who’s counting on them. No one’s supposed to die from fentanyl overdose or a car crash or childhood disease.

No one’s supposed to sit in a funeral for their baby girl.

It’s just not right. Nothing will ever make it right.

 A son growing up without his mother. My dad growing up growing old without his daughter and uncle’s cousins, friends. Left to find and carry on your legacy. All of us left with huge holes in our hearts. That can ever be filled. It’s like trying to fill the Grand Canyon with an eye dropper.  

But and still the only way to honor you is to carry on, maybe in that carrying on we’ll find solace, we’ll find ❤️ We’ll find reason to carry on.

© Elene Bratton 2024

Jamie’s Joy: Healing Grief, Creating Legacy, Celebrating Life now available!

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Jamie’s Joy: Honoring Grief, Creating Legacy, Celebrating Life offers a raw, honest, and heartfelt account of the most agonizing, painful, and life-altering loss—that of a child. Ms. Bratton shares the intimate details of her process upon losing her precious son, Jamie. She shows us how our “grief illiterate” society makes an anguished experience even more painful through its lack of support for the bereaved and, perhaps worse, by making the bereavement process seem shameful and unhealthy. According to the author, the common belief that we need to “move on with our lives” and leave our lost loves in the past does not work. Ms. Bratton learned to rethink most of her past beliefs about God, people, and the nature of life to survive and heal with faith.

Jamie’s Joy offers candid ways the bereaved can shift their thoughts to adapt to the new reality of such a loss and eventually regain belief in the goodness of life. The mission of this book is to offer you Ms. Bratton’s stark and intriguing insights—not as a direction, but as something to consider if you are on your path of loss or have ever needed to help someone else who is. This book was created to provide you with resources and supportive guides to use, as needed.

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A New Connection: Selah Carefarm, Sedona, Arizona

I recently watched the series “The Me You Can’t See.” It is a wonderful documentary exploring mental illness and healing from the perspectives of people from various backgrounds and places around the world.

I was happy to learn, through the series, about a place just outside Sedona Arizona, Selah Carefarm, where grieving parents can go to, among other things, spend time with rescued animals. The benefit is for both the humans and the non-humans, as many of the other animals there also have been in traumatic situations prior to arriving at Selah.

After completing the documentary, I reached out to the director and founder, Joanne Cacciatore, who appeared in the series. I really didn’t even know whether I would hear back from her, but was pleasantly surprised when she wrote right back. As it turns out, we have quite a bit in common. Like me, Joanne lost her child, Cheyenne, suddenly and at a very young age, and has also developed a deeper connection with other animals from within a place of grief. I was reminded of an interview I did, “I Don’t Eat My Friends” with Vegan Danielle, which relates to my own connections with other animals born from grief and love and my relationship with Jamie.

I hope to visit Selah in the future. It seems like a magical and healing place. I will also be adding a link in our Grief Support section. Thank you to Joanne and all the staff at Selah Carefarm for your tremendous support and compassion for all animals, human and other, for your expansive circle of care, for seeing a need and for filling that need. I am inspired and touched by what you do.

© 2021 Mychael McNeeley