Our Biggest Sale of the Year is Here!🎄 ➔

Have you sat with the dying? Have you seen the loved ones who sit at their bedside night after night, holding their hand? They hold on, afraid to let go, knowing the end is near but so not ready for the last word, the last touch, the last breath of life. 

They sit, exhausted beyond exhausted. They know it’s time to let go, but they also wonder how life goes on without them. There was life before them, and there will be life after them, but life after now will never be the same without them. 

Have you sat with the dying?

Children gather at their feet, learning the sadness of one of life’s greatest losses. They begin to understand the circle of life. With great love comes great loss but to have never loved would have been the greatest loss of all. 

RELATED: I Sang to a Dying Stranger and Touched Heaven

Loved ones gather, wishing for just a few more stories and memories to carry them through the rest of their life without the one they never imagined living without. They hold their memories tight, knowing it’s what will carry them through the days ahead.

Have you sat with the dying? Have you felt in the movement of the day the collective grief as the living gather to tell the dying goodbye and felt in the stillness of the night the ghosts and the angels of those who have passed visiting, ready to welcome the dying?

Time feels as if it’s frozen, yet it’s still moving.

Life comes and goes throughout the day while one life hangs in the balance each night, leaving loved ones gathered around in their grief, wondering which day is the last. 

RELATED: There is a Bridge in Heaven Where We Meet

Have you sat with the dying? Have you thought how good of a person and life it must have been to be loved so much and so dearly up to the absolute end, surrounded by love, clasped in the hands of those holding on while the arms of those ready to welcome them home, wait for the final goodbye.

Have you sat with the dying?

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available for pre-order now!

Pre-Order Now

Angela Williams Glenn

Angela Williams Glenn writes about the struggles and joys of motherhood on her website Stepping into Motherhood. Her book Moms, Monsters, Media, and Margaritas examines the expectations verse the realities of motherhood in our modern day digital era and her book Letters to a Daughter is an interactive journal for mothers to their daughters. She’s also been published with Chicken Soup for the Soul, TAAVI Village, Bored Teachers, and Filter Free Parents. You can find her on her Facebook page at Stepping into Motherhood.

To Those Who Know the Bitter Hurt of Losing a Parent

In: Death of a Parent, Grief
Sad woman head in her hands sitting against a wall

To the young adults out there who have lost parents, this one is for you. You experienced a great loss and you’re still so young with so much life ahead of you. You often wonder how you can make it through the rest of your life without the parent who is no longer here. I see you struggling. On the outside, you hold it together. You keep a smile and hold your head up high; you want to take on the world and embrace life. You meet new people and want to tell them your story because maybe they understand....

Keep Reading

“It’s Sarah. She’s Gone.”

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Toddler next to baby sister's grave, black-and-white photo

October 4, 2019. “Hi, Kristen. This is the constable. I need you to give me a call.”  Those words will forever ring clear in my mind. My husband and I just found out we were expecting our third baby. We were going to have three—three and under. Afraid, thrilled, and overwhelmed, I ended up getting checked by the doctor that Friday morning, just to make sure everything was OK. Those were the words that met me as I ended my hospital visit and checked my voicemail. I quickly dialed back, the most afraid I have ever been in my life....

Keep Reading

She’s Really Gone

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Wide-eyed baby girl, color photo

Trigger warning: Infant loss “We have to do this for Gabby,” my husband paused on the sidewalk to squeeze my hand and offer those words as we approached the doors to the funeral home. I had no more tears to cry at that moment, so I stared at him with an emptiness in my eyes I knew he understood. We walked through the doors, and it felt like we were entering another world–a world where merely existing took every ounce of energy I could bring forth from my brokenness. A man, wearing a simple grey suit, met us at the...

Keep Reading