Jilly Brandon

Terracotta and pink streaked monolithic rocks pointing their spires up towards the deep blue sky created a cathedral of worship in this place .

Wildflowers spilling over edges of abundant grounds, carefully curated and coaxed into existence by the rain and sunshine. Uninhibited in their quest to proliferate their hues and compliment one another in their yearning to be the best blooms that they can be .

It is a virtual feast for the senses to be immersed in the scenery of this special place. The location is hidden away from prying and exposing eyes, and those who venture here are invited, or drawn to the concept of being immersed in beauty, and are diligent in their quest of learning and being present in their loss of their child .

It is a place to honor, and he honored. You are seen and heard . This is one of the hearts’ desires. To know that you are not alone, but are surrounded by 99 other women who know the well traveled bumpy dirt road of grief and loss.

It’s a place to remember, to say out loud your child’s name with awe and reverence, with tears streaming down your cheeks to look out towards the other Mothers holding their candles, and standing together, arms slung around one anothers’ backs, swaying gently together, as we embrace all that we have lost. To sing and worship and weep and dance.

” United by the death of a child.” That is a big part of what this weekend was about. Learning new ways to cope, and share the burdens of breaking hearts, and shattered lives. How to understand and assist the siblings that are left living this life, and a glimpse into what the breaking feels like for them, after their brother or sister passed away.

We are not the same women that we were before we buried our child, for that is an impossibility .

The setting was in Colorado Springs, Colorado, at Glen Eyrie Castle. This castle exudes passion and romance . A man built it for his wife in the early 1900’s. She never ended up living there as she passed away before its’ completion.

What a testament to love.

The natural red rocks that surround this spot serve as guardians and are ever watchful rugged pieces of rock that stand firm and encase the castle with grace and dignity .

A view from the interior of the castle onto the courtyard patio space where we gathered for meals, and sharing of our stories.

The precious tales that were heard here were captivating and tore the heart into more pieces over and over again.

Arriving on the Friday afternoon, I was filled with much trepidation. Why had I agreed to attend this conference I kept ruminating about. I do not want to sit and hear sad and painfully hard stories all weekend, and cry and share. This sounds horrible . I wanted to run away and hide in a forgotten cave all by myself.

I carpooled with a group of gals . Our chauffeur, leader ” chicken mummy” as I affectionately called her was my friend Karen. We piled into her jeep and away we went bound for the place of sorrow and mourning, and s ask so beauty. I wanted to leap from the jeep several times as I contemplated what lay before us.

I soon realized that had I to take this trip solo, in all sincerity, I likely would have turned around, and never reached this exquisite destination. There is strength and courage in numbers. Walking it alone is intolerable, and unnecessary. A tribe is required.

Healing requires help. It just does . Not that you will ever return to your other self before the loss normal. That you is buried . This is something that needs to be understood. Morphing and figuring out how to live again, and breathe in adventure and new opportunities, new and amazing friendships is possible . These blossoming friendships are part of your healing journey, and where God lovingly allows you to collide will smack you senseless in the very best way possible .

This weekend is a ” Journey of the Heart Conference” by Umbrella Ministries. This concept was birthed by a Mom whose child had died, and who searched for a place to belong and find comfort after her loss. She couldn’t find what she was looking for, so she started something . This ministry was born from a need to belong, and to find a safe space for your heart.

Her name is Daisy Catchings -Shader . This is her journal .

Unfortunately there was a need. We Mothers together speak about how this is the group nobody anywhere would ever want to join, and yet there is solidarity, and the membership to such a group comes at the highest cost, the death of your son or daughter, and upon hearing many of these girlfriends’ stories…sometimes… multiple and horrific tragedies of loss is encountered.

Everyone involved in hosting the conference knows the grief of the loss of a child . Our fearless, lovely, funny, and inspirational leaders were Michele and Lynda. Brought together through their losses .

Every detail and testimony of our shared stories was held with such respect and grace.

There was hope here. It was tangible . It was word in the flesh of fellow warriors who made and are continuing to make the choice of not surrendering to hopelessness. There is shared purpose and resolve of these impressive creatures.

Our workshops and small groups were custom fitted to each and everyone of us, and attention to detail was around each corner. From gauze bags filled with chocolate cluster delicacies, to homemade chocolate chip cookies, and our welcome “Swag bag” was so lovely, and much appreciated. Lots of ways to remember …

There is something to be said about intentionally immersing yourself in the very thing you don’t ever want to do, and then coming out the other side, not only a survivor, but a thriver . Not giving up by drawing strength and courage from the sharing of each others’ stories. There is nothing more powerful than our stories, and they are begging to be told…and actively listened to.

I met my roommate the first evening. We introduced ourselves to one another, put on our Jammies, brushed our teeth, and turned out the light.

I jokingly said to Amy, my roommate..” now that we have turned out the lights..let’s get to know each other.” I know .. ” I ain’t right in the head.”

Humor helps.. it breaks the ice, it makes you laugh at the not even remotely funny, but it eases the coils and restraints that are often encircling your body, heart and mind, and it frees the lungs to expand and take in air ….fresh and new .

Humor is a necessity .

Amy’s story . I am inspired by her, and her tenacity, and resolve to keep on keeping on. I know that God put us in the same room not at random, but with a divine purpose. She is a pediatric nurse who used to make house visits to children like my Bianca. She knows.. she gets it. Now she, as a single Mom, is in school to become a “Psychiatric nurse practitioner .” Unstoppable. I was so grateful to meet and get to know her.

These conferences are held at multiple locations world wide. East and west coasts of the United States, as well as at international locations. How cool is that ?

The last morning, Sunday, which I referred to as ” resurrection morning” we had a butterfly release ceremony . It’s hard to put into feeble words what it was like to open up that little blue envelope and set free this new creature, fresh from the encasement of its pupa stage, and observe it opening its wings gently, and seeing the profusion of orange and black and yellow and white on its exquisite wings, and waiting expectedly for it to gain its flying wings, and soar as it was always meant to do .

Open the envelope… their is new life inside

There are more people in my tribe now . I am overwhelmed by the welcoming shared intimacy of meeting new friends and Mothers to share this life with. Life is indeed a gift, and a choice. We make these choices every second of every day. To not surrender to despair and loneliness, but to reach out..just a tentative hand, to be willing to meet the gaze of an other who is hurting, is to let it be known.. you don’t have to do this life alone.