(humming the Diana Ross tune) I want the world to know that I am coming out of the house. It’s been seven weeks and if I don’t try soon, I think it will get increasingly, impossibly difficult. I am going to attempt to resume my normal routine. The grocery store, the dry cleaners, the farmers market, the driving range, coffee, perhaps a sporting event and maybe even dinner or a movie in my own neighborhood. I want to be with my community. With the people who knew John, the people who love us.
I’m scared. I’m afraid of the unexpected. I don’t know who I will encounter around any corner. The uncertainty of who I’ll see and how each of us will react is terrifying.
I know how you feel. You won’t be expecting me. You won’t know what to do when you see me. You will feel unsure about what to say. You will feel uncomfortable. How could anybody be comfortable with this? I have never been comfortable facing another person’s loss. By avoiding the subject, I thought I was protecting them. I didn’t want to remind them of their loss. I didn’t want to make them feel sad.
We haven’t been trained to deal with this. It doesn’t happen very often. Over the past weeks I have frequently heard, “No one should have to bear the loss of a child. It is out of turn. It is not the way it’s supposed to be”. And a friend who knows our pain said, “In our world, death has been relegated to the old. One feels very alone with the death of a child”. It’s true. Before our parent’s generation, children died more frequently than the rest of the population, but that’s not the case anymore. I get it. It’s every parent’s worst nightmare. It’s my worst nightmare. It’s a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. But loss is not contagious, so please don’t avoid me. Avoiding me, won’t make it easier the next time you see me.
I’m thinking that some ground rules might be helpful.
1. Please don’t pretend you don’t see me. Don’t be scared to look at me. If you don’t want to say anything just give me a little wave and a smile, or blow me a kiss, or make your hands in the shape of a heart
.
2. If you have a moment, please talk to me. If you have a memory of John, or would like to talk about him, please do. Don’t be afraid to cry. If I cry, it’s OK. I cry all the time anyway. I think of him all the time anyway. Your moment with me will actually make me feel better even if there are tears.
3. If it’s too hard for you to talk, just give me a hug. I will understand simply with your embrace.
4. Don’t ask me how I’m doing because that is too hard to answer. Suggestions for other things to say are:
“I was just thinking about John earlier…”
“I love you”
“He was loved”
“You all have been in my thoughts and prayers”
“It doesn’t seem possible”
“I’m sorry for your loss”
“I can’t imagine what you are going through”
“I miss him too”
“I wish I knew what to say”
“I don’t know what to say”
“I have no words.”
I am a grieving mom who is scared and hurting. This is uncharted territory for me. I didn’t have a choice about loosing John. I don’t have a choice about being in this abyss of grief. I understand how difficult it will be to approach me, but I expect that we both will feel a lot better when we part. We are a community. Share my loss by sharing your sadness with me.
I think it’s time to leave the house. I can’t be afraid to any longer.
Walk with me 
You are very brave to voice your grief for all to hear. You are afraid no more. I did not know your son but through your words, I know how much he is loved. I am truly sorry for your loss and the pain you and your family have to endure. He is with you guiding you the whole way while holding your hand and telling you how proud he is that you are his Mother. Sending you strength and many hugs, Connie
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I am not afraid. This is life. Unfortunately, this is a terrible but sometimes inevitable part of life. Easy for me to say, perhaps, but I suppose the thing I am trying to say is that I am not afraid of you, of your loss, of your sadness, or your tears. I love you and am your friend and WILL face all of those things with you. And in the midst of it all, I know that not now, but someday, there will be more laughter in a day than tears, more happiness in a day than sadness. But for now I will be with you on the other side.
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Dearest Melissa,
I am moved by this post for three reasons. The first is that I watched you grow up. Such an honor.
You were tall, smart, an athletic beauty. You were and remain a cherished daughter, sister and friend. You have become a beloved wife and mother. For these reasons I love you and I am hurting along side you. The second reason is that you asked for what you most need at this time to bolster your courage and support your fragility. The third is that you are calling on your community. My beautiful Melissa daily I am touched by your wisdom and this choice is the wisest of all. Your community will bring you love and love will connect you more deeply to John in such an intentional way. Because in this instant he resonates pure love, only love. John’s love is the reason that one day you will be able to connect with the world again. You are so exquisite.
I love you,
Jodie
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Melissa, thank you for helping the rest of us help you. xo Becca
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Hi Melissa, I miss you and think about you and Paul every day. I hope we can hike when I am home in December. Lots of love, Kevan
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Melissa,
Wow! I’m so glad you are ready to brave reentry into your community and the world!
Your ground rules and suggestions are so very practical, helpful, and wise. My thoughts and caring are with you. Best wishes. Take it step by step.
Warmly,
Katherine
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I wish more then anything that I could help, or at the very least spend time with you. I love you so much. Owlie
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Melissa – From the first time I met you, I knew you were an amazing person. The years since then has only confirmed what I already knew. You’re such a beautiful example of strength and grace, thoughtfulness and honesty. I’m so honored to be part of your community and to call you my friend!
Love you<3
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Thank you for your I m Coming out . As a Stephens Minister at LOPC your suggestions will be so helpful to me and others who are attempting to come out Bless you and Paul at this time Sara Cornell Kens wife and Laura Lowell Mom
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Melissa, I look forward to seeing you. I promise to give you a big hug. In the meantime, I’m thinking of you and sending my love.
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I will always remember the baseball and football days with AJ and Bobby and your John and the team experiences we shared. He was such an amazing athlete. I remember how Matt and I would talk about wanting him to play for Lamo. All the coaches wanted John Coupin! But, I also remember how sweet he was. He was one of those boys that all the parents liked. I promise to think of him often when I reminisce about our kids and sports and Miramonte and Orinda. They were good times and John won’t be forgotten by any of us.
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Sending love.
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Sending love.
-perry-
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