My Story

I am a grieving parent. Our daughter, Molly, was killed on September 27, 2009 in the parking lot of a 7-11 convenience store. She was returning to their car when a gun fell from the car door, discharging and killing her. Molly did not grow up in a home with guns. We did not believe it was safe for children to be around them. However Molly, a 6-month newlywed, and her husband had been on a camping trip that weekend. The gun belonged to her husband's father and they had been target shooting in the canyons near their campsite; something her husband had done for several years. There are many details about that day that are so hard to accept, but the fact is, our beautiful daughter was killed. She died one week before her 20th birthday. (newspaper account )

There is no way to aptly describe what it is like to receive a phone call with news that your child has been killed. There is an instant when you think you are dead too; when you beg God to 'fix it' or to let you change places with her. There is no way to describe the feeling of not being able to say goodbye, to realize that your last conversation with her was really your LAST conversation with her. I've described much of that feeling in a blog I dedicated to Molly titled: My Big Red Shoe.

They tell us there are stages of grieving and I believe they are right. At some point we all go through varying degrees of them. The sad truth is there will never be a finish line. Shock, anger, dark despair, isolation, depression can and will manifest themselves in some fashion. Somewhere along the way I realized that choices had to be made. The search for hope became a daily goal. Without it I knew I would fall into a deeper darker place. Faith needed reinvestigation, life required a new perspective and a new journey began.

I wish you peace if you are travelling this road. I believe the spirit of our daughter, Molly, surrounds us and that she watches us from heaven. May the light of hope shine in your heart like the love you have for the child you brought into this world. May you find your way along this journey and discover your own light. May your friends and loved ones provide support and care, and whether you travel this road alone or with support.... may you discover a strength you never knew you had. Peace and blessings, ~Marsha

 In Memory of our daughter Molly (10/4/89 - 9/27/09).
 She was a huge light in our family. Let the light of her love, humor and fun continue to shine.... and help us to do our best to share that light with others.

 Our children are not gone; their ship just sailed before ours. 

They'll be there to greet us.

What we do in memory of our children
has the energy of love attached to it.
The ways in which we give to others (volunteer, help to raise money for causes, speak, etc) will share that love with the world.

 Give. ♥



Our daughter Molly. 
On October 4, 1989 she came into this world
 and into our family's hearts.
On Sept 27th, 2009 she left, leaving us with memories of her beautiful smile,
contagious laughter and sentimental heart.
Our feelings of love and loss are indescribable.
Thank you God for the gift of Molly.



Faith And My Aching Heart

She’s Gone. Is The Door Forever Locked?

I have been blessed with great joys. Through the birth of my two daughters I have had glimpses of heaven. I can attest to the life altering experience that birth bestows upon parent. The unalterable change in becoming, ‘less about you’ and more about something ‘much bigger’ than you. Some people call it growing up. Unlike most parents I also understand the raw and helpless despair of receiving a phone call that your daughter has been killed.

I am her mother. The tears I shed are for my aching loss and the loss for her father and sister. The loss of a future with her. As I kneel in church on Sunday my thoughts often spin. I am reminded that on a spiritual level Molly still lives. Her soul and spirit will never die.

I feel her spirit, her presence and her love each day. There are no more daily phone calls from Molly, asking for recipe ideas, telling me about funny things that happened in the bakery where she was working, telling me stories about her new puppy, telling me she missed me, and asking about her dad and sister. Now I make the phone calls to her through meditation and prayer.

I am greatly challenged between the spiritual side of me, who recognizes that my daughter will always surround me and the ‘mama’ side,….who lost her sweet daughter and cannot fix it. Can grief be paralyzing? Yes. Sometimes it burns in my chest and screams to me “Your child has been ripped from your womb”. Such a unfixable gut wrenching vacancy. Memories of that little toddler with curly blonde hair, big blue eyes, a sippy cup and band aids on her knees flood my thoughts and flow through my tear ducts.

Often, I can feel her reaching out to me. I’ve become sensitive to signs that she is in my midst. I think about what she would want if she saw us grieving and horribly lost without her. I know she would want to comfort those who miss her so dearly. She would want her sister to know that she is okay and that her parents will be okay. She would want all of us to speak of her, share memories, be comforted, and seek happiness. I believe that when a child dies, a part of you dies too. We must redefine our lives and accept that our child has gone ahead of us in the wrong order. We were suppose to go first.


I believe that God represents the light and love of the world. He loves us enough to send our spirit into this world through the physical body to learn and to give others an opportunity to grow through our relationships with one another. We are here for a purpose. She was here for a purpose. Sometimes our purpose can be to assist others on their journey. When we return to the spiritual realm, we leave the physical body behind and continue to grow in love. We will meet again in the spiritual realm of the positive energy we call Heaven. This is what consoles my heart, and it is the reason I can give thanks and celebrate my earthly blessings; namely my family.

There is much more to our existence than this 3-dimensional earthly world. Many are believers and ‘some’ of us, through an unthinkable tragedy, are forced to accept that our worst fear has come true. Along with this ‘realization’ is the opportunity to further investigate the spiritual doors which may have been locked up until now. A large ring of keys has been given to those who have lost a child. The task lies ahead.
-by Marsha Abbott

The Day The Music DIED

"But something touched me deep inside, the day the music died." ~Don McLean/American Pie

Do you often wonder how this catastropic event found it's way into your life? Have you observed other parents and families whose lives have been spared this horror and wondered, "WHY my child? WHY us?"  Have you noticed that one or more things you formerly enjoyed, cease to bring you joy?

Music has been a mainstay in my life, well before our children were born. Perhaps being a product of the Rock n' Roll generation meant that 'upbeat tempo' would become a part of everything I did. It provided background music in the house when I was home, provided 'party mood' music (nice and loud) when I entertained, and offered great companionship while traveling in the car. Our kids loved it too. I can rarely remember a time when there was no music in the house or car, until now.

Like a tapestry, music threads it's way into every part of life.  It chronicles the years, the memories, and all of the special occasions. I never realized just how powerful music had been in my life until my daughter was killed. That was the day the music died for me. Now when I listen, I cry. Unfortunately crying isn't always convenient when you are working, or doing social things. For a long time now I have told my husband to turn off the radio when I get into his car, because I inevitably end up crying and arrive at our destination in a mascara mess. So many songs remind me of her. We shared the same taste in music. She always kept my iPod up to date. She often called me to ask me to listen to her new favorite.

Pundits say that reactions such as this are understandable and peace will eventually come. I search for parents who have found that 'peace'. I look for credible sources; those who have also lost a child and have travelled this journey.

Sometimes the injustice of this loss feels like perpetual purgatory. There is no choice but to surrender and experience the devestation. Like a tsunami that hits with full force, it doesn't matter how much faith or connection we seek, the wave of despair arrives and has it's way with us.

When author, Barbara Rose, talks about feeling like a 'breathing corpse', I can relate. What a perfect analogy. I often feel that way when my tsunamis hit.

Barbara explains, "Humanity cries over the loss of a child, and yet what many have not fully integrated into daily knowledge is that when a person leaves this physical life, and crosses over to the other side, they are vibrantly ALIVE again! If your loved one is on the other side, call out to him! Speak to them. Our loved ones can hear us, they actually visit us, even though we cannot physically see them because they are no longer in a physical body, but their soul, their essence, their consciousness and ALL of the love they feel for you is just as alive as you are right now."

I've taken Barbara's advice and called out. I've meditated, connected with mediums, prayed, and have found wonderful connections. They offer comfort...... but the tsunamis still arrive unannounced and unpredictible. The waves crash into my heart leaving ruins and the promise to return.

Barbara strongly believes our experience here on earth is part of an ultimate plan. She says,  "From lifetime to lifetime we experience despair. We do not remember all we have undergone in our prior lifetimes. We do not remember learning so many lessons. This is the lifetime to bridge the gap between human catastrophe and spiritual truth. Nothing happens in this universe that is void of energy. It is the loving energy in your heart that desires understanding that will receive exactly what you need, you just have to be willing to receive."

Though I don't believe Barbara has gone through the death of her own child, she views the energy of the soul as unending. I do as well.

Perhaps time is the key that will re-open the door of music for me. I wish I knew. Until that day, I fill the silence in the room with my prayerful connections to my daughter. The quietness in my car is filled with  'chats' with her. I have faith that she hears.

Those familiar lyrics, the day the music died , are very real for me. The reality that what once was.... will  never be again, at least on this earth.  Finding ways to hear the music again will be the ultimate challenge. I know my daughter wants me to hear it again.
 -Marsha


*American Pie, by Don McLean
*Barbara Rose, Ph.D. is the best selling author of thirteen books including If God Hears Me, I Want an Answer!
*Visit A New Journey On Facebook:  A place for grieving parents, family and friends
a
a
a

When The Angel Of Death Comes For Your Child

First Responders On The Scene.....


When the Angel of Death taps the shoulder of our child, the world stops turning. The phone call delivering incomprehensible news and a one-way ticket to the darkest depths of existence, hurls our senses into a state of shock and disbelief.

In that surreal state we are often surrounded by 'earth angels' who arrive to comfort and care for us. Whether they are friends or family, their ability to minister to our pain , help us put one foot in front of the other and make sense out of this nightmare is nothing short of miraculous. They shower their kindness upon us in so many ways and can appear in multitudes, bearing loving words and gestures. Some take on heavy lifting tasks such as helping with funeral arrangements, travel, & planning. Some don't appear until months or years later. Some know us well, some knew our child, some barely know us yet they feel 'called' to reach out.

The existence of these 'earth angels' was described beautifully to me while reading a passage written by a woman whose heart ached for a friend who lost her child. She grieved for her friend and described the role she wished to play in providing loving support. This 'earth angel' wrote the following:

"I've had a recurring 'vision' (if you want to call it that --it's just an image in my mind's eye) of the heart of a bereaved parent looking something like a bomb site—a place that was once thriving and responsible for the health and lives of many people, now suddenly and violently interrupted by a gaping, smoldering hole. The debris of life before the bomb is mixed in with a strong, deep root system--the parent/child bond. I think of myself, then, as a responder--someone who first comes to help supply immediate care and assistance--applying comfort and kindness and even material needs wherever I can, then to help sort through the debris (as needed and where possible), then to begin planting life and love and hope around the bomb site, then to cultivate what I plant and encourage its growth, so that over time it will interact with and enhance that deep root system of parental love that will always remain. Yet even in that "green" space, there needs to be some good, prime space set aside for a memorial--a place that is always quiet, sacred, and separated from the life that goes on and grows up around it. I think that's what we're supposed to do for our friends and family who grieve not only over the child that has passed, but also for the place in their hearts that was once part of a thriving system and is now a site of reflection and mourning." -Ann Bosworth

A responder. What an insightful and heartfelt description. I am thankful for the responders in my life. Some arrived on the scene when our tragic loss occurred. Some have arrived in the months following. I have faith they'll appear at intermittent times in the future because I believe in the power of light, goodness and love. Even in the endless darkness of tragedy…... we are offered light.
 -Marsha Flynn Abbott



* Originally posted at Bereavement 4 Breakfast; July 21, 2010
* Visit Facebook: A New Journey, for quotes, links, and articles of hope regarding the loss of a child.
*Pictured: The Angel of Hope

Sorrow And Expected Recovery

If the present moment threatens to remain permanently barren, then sorrow can easily turn into despair. (1)

Can anyone really expect to recover from the tragedy of losing a child, considering the value of what was lost and the consequences of that loss?

Recovery is a misleading and empty expectation. We recover from broken limbs, not amputations. Catastrophic loss by definition precludes recovery. It will transform us or destroy us, but it will never leave us the same.

There is no going back to the past, which is gone forever, only going ahead to the future, which has yet to be discovered. Whatever that future is, it will, and must include the pain of the past with it.

Sorrow never entirely leaves the soul of those who have suffered a severe loss. If anything, it may keep going deeper.

But this depth of sorrow is the sign of a healthy soul, not a sick soul. It does not have to be morbid and fatalistic. It is not something to escape but something to embrace. Sorrow indicates that people who have suffered loss truly understand the emotional anguish of others who feel pain.

Sorrow enlarges the soul until the soul is capable of mourning and rejoicing simultaneously, of feeling the world's pain and hoping for the world's healing at the same time.

Deep sorrow often has the effect of stripping us of pretense, vanity, and waste. It forces us to ask questions about what is most important in life. It causes us to look around us and develop an intense appreciation for those in our lives who strive to connect with us, who on a deep level understand this most basic loss.

'Suffering can lead to a simpler life, less cluttered with non-essentials. It is wonderfully clarifying. That is why many people who experience sudden and severe loss often become transformed. Loss requires us to ask ourselves, What do I believe? What has happened to my child?"(2)  It strips away the 'bumpers of life' that formerly ricocheted us away from subjects we didn't want to fully consider and allows us to crash headlong into deep introspection.

I'm not sure we ever recover from such a loss, but we have been given an opportunity to see life from a new perspective. It will require a type of sacrifice of believing that, however painful our losses, life can and will still be good, but good in a new way. I lost the world I loved and I hope to gain a new purpose in life. I seek, through time, to clarify that purpose. For my daughter, I promise to begin that journey.
-Marsha Abbott


(1) Jerry Sittser, A Grace Disguised
(2) Jerry Sittser, A Grace Disguised

Who Understands This Pain?

Soon or later we all experience loss. Yet, it is a solitary experience. It is nearly physical in it's depth of pain. Do we all experience the same thing? When someone says, "Nobody understands the pain I feel or the suffering I've been through", it is hard to disagree. We don't know.

Yet that person could never know the pain associated with our loss. We are unique, yet similar. The person we were before the loss of our child and how we have responded to this loss makes each person's story individual. Perhaps that is why suffering such a loss feels like such a lonely experience. Nobody can go through it for us.

In the midst of tragedy, shock often renders us senseless. Like tumbleweeds in the desert, the wind blows us this way and that; accepting invitations, turning down invitations, putting up a good front one day and collapsing privately another, trying to express thanks for the out pour of love yet finding it difficult to find the energy or train of thought to carry through. We roll aimlessly along this new path until a quietness settles in; the quietness of a new reality. With that emerges a new definition of the future and the time to consider the choices that lie ahead.

How we choose to go through loss makes us unique. We are forced into the darkness alone, but there are forks long the path of darkness. We can choose brokenness and despair or we can choose community.

The path of isolation offers the promise of continued darkness and loneliness. The path through community is more brightly lit yet choices present themselves. We may encounter others along this path who share a brokenness that feeds on the darkness and despair. Others search for hope.

Community also includes old friends, new friends, family and places of comfort. Those who are committed to more than a sympathy card; who have not lost a child but deep down inside a 'voice' speaks to them. Privately they give thanks that this sort of loss has passed them by, and that 'voice' encourages them to reach out.

No, nobody will ever understand another person's unique pain resulting from the death of their child. Perhaps that is not necessary. As a parent, perhaps it is the choices we make as we travel this journey which will define the most valuable understanding.
-Marsha Abbott

Visit Facebook: A New Journey, for quotes, links, and articles of hope regarding the loss of a child.

Mourning Walk

I NEVER UNDERSTOOD

I never understood real pain;
     just the expected losses in the cycle of life,
broken down cars, skinned knees, 

and broken nails.

I never understood real pain;
     just the craziness of a self-employed income
in a volatile marketplace,

with high hopes and a squirrel's saving attitude.

I never understood real pain;
     just the normal transitions,
children growing up and leaving home,

youth slipped away, high heels replaced
with spiffy comfort shoes.

I never understood real pain until you were taken

       from me Molly.

Infinite darkness,
broken and bleeding from within,

private agonizing wails,
a snow laden cemetery
far, far from home.

A forever emptiness,
non-fixable, aching, vacant void;

nightly prayers with forever tears
soaking my pillow.
Your laughter is gone.
Why couldn't it have been me?

I understand. Oh God, I understand.

          -Marsha Abbott

A MOURNING WALK

I tie my laces each morning, 
   open the door and walk up the hill

      with thoughts of you.

Memories of two little sisters

Rollerskates and elbow pads,

"Mommy I'm awake"

Hugs, tickles and bedtime stories.

Microwave popcorn, triscuits with cheese

   blankets and Avonlea,

     high school proms

Finding the perfect dress.

I ask the Lord to hold you close;

to help me carry on;
To mend a shattered picture of
     a family without you in it.

Each step has a purpose;
   to help set my mind for a positive day;
To discover hope. 
God please give me hope
and the ability to
quell the aching question, "Why"?

Molly if those steps would bring you back

I would walk forever.

                    -Mama

The Elephant Lingers

Written for bereaved parents who ache when friends and family avoid bringing up the name or memory of their child.

The Elephant Lingers

Smiling conversations,
current events and weather predictions.

The elephant lumbers through the room.

A loss not consequential enough for weather discussions.

Spirituality and compassion carefully

hidden in a closet like delicate lace.

‘Silence is golden’ approach applied to

wounds needing hugs and communication.

The elephant roars.

Humanity tested

in every deflected opportunity.

Unwilling to share memories, joys, a connection.

Parents bleeding, suffering the silence

of the world.

Trapped by walls of avoidance

the elephant remains

locked in the room of chit-chat
surrounded by the weather commentators. 

  - Marsha Abbott

Visit A New Journey on Facebook. A place for grieving parents, siblings and caring friends searching for hope after the death of a child.

I can be reached by email at: Marsha@nwdesignservices.com
Feel free to leave comments here, on facebook or via email.a
aa
a
a

Our Spirit Functions At A Higher Level

Is there more to our existence than progressing through the decades hoping to reach the finish line unscathed? The death of a child redefines our journey.


Each decade something different seems to happen to our bodies and lives. Media pundits try to prepare and help us. They tell us what we can do to stave off  unwanted changes like wrinkles, belly flab, aging. They give us suggestions about relationships and job searches in our 20's; how to strengthen our marriage and raise children in our 30's. They remind us to select age appropriate fashion and deal decisively with rebellious teens in our 40's. They ask us if we've planned for our old age and suggest how to care for aging parents in our 50's. They show pictures of movies stars to demonstrate that we can make our 60's the 'new' 50's for those who can't face the fact that they are no longer spring chickens. Then, in our 70's, they remind us to stay active in our retirement years and offer savvy ways to make sure the government doesn't get our money when we die. The pundits are always available with tips to help us get through the decades of life.

Unfortunately life doesn't always fit into that 'decade' preparation plan. Stuff happens. Stuff that never seems to show up on the 'decade' plan. Stuff that reminds us the difference between life's challenges and unthinkable, irreversible loss. Stuff that forces us to re-evaluate everything.

In the circle of life we unwittingly assume we'll leave this earth before our children. We occasionally hear about 'this tragedy' or 'that tragedy' where a child(ren) dies, but it happens to someone else. Heartbreaking, but not our story;...... until one catastrophic day, when it becomes our story.

We are forced to accept that our child is physically gone from this earth. Questions arise. What do I really believe happened to them? Is it over forever? Has their spirit gone to heaven/crossed over? Where is heaven/the other side? Can I feel my child's presence around me? Was there a predetermined spiritual lesson involved? Do I believe I have been punished or my child was punished? Have my feelings about religion/faith been altered? Is our spirit/soul the real essence of what makes us, us?

Those who have had near death experiences (NDE) quite often ask themselves many of those same questions. Unalterably changed from an out of body experience they change their perspective about the human experience. "I learned the power of the spirit over the body, and I saw that the spirit functions at a level most of us are not aware of. Of course I knew that my mind created my thought, and my body performed my actions, but the spirit had been mystery to me. I realized that the spirit is a mystery to most people. (1)

"I saw that it functions, generally, without the mind even being aware of it. The spirit communicates with God/The Light, being the receptive device that receives knowledge and insight from him. All experience is for our growth, and negative experience helps develop our spirits. We have a choice to develop or to stagnate." (2)

New question. Were our souls aware of this journey before we incarnated to earth? Betty Eadie in her book, Embraced By The Light states, "We were very willing, even anxious, as spirits to accept all of our ailments, illnesses and accidents here to help better ourselves spiritually. In the spirit world/Heaven our earth time is meaningless. The pain we experience on earth is just a moment, just a split second of consciousness in Heaven/spirit world, and we are very willing to endure it."

Introspection, discovery and/or rediscovery of faith often take place after losing a child. The decade timeline seems silly when compared to such contemplation. A different level of thinking is in play.  Choices for meaning are infinite and we are free to make them. The new journey is ours to navigate. -Marsha Abbott 


Visit A New Journey on Facebook. A resource and place of hope for grieving parents.  http://www.facebook.com/pages/A-New-Journey/139541632740837
(1) (2)  -Embraced by the Light, pgs 66-71, by Betty Eadie