Free shipping on all orders over $75🎄

She didn’t look sick. She didn’t look like she was dying. She didn’t look like she was slipping to eternity and far away from us. She didn’t look like anything but my mother.  

She didn’t look like those things because she couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t accept it and my heart couldn’t fathom it. Denial is the first sign of grief’s ugly entrance. 

Sadly, the glasses of hope that had been filtering my visions, thoughts, and wishes suddenly slipped off and out of reach. Hope no longer existed, because there was no room for it. I saw things as they were, realistically and harsh.

She was taking her final breaths and my heart was slowly disintegrating.  

She hadn’t looked sick or dying or fading, until the very moment she did. The very moment she let her last breath slip out, stealing pieces of my being and fragments of my soul. Hope can no longer carry you when the opportunity has diminished and when the chance of a miracle has been stolen from you. When hope leaves, reality finds you, and consequently, grief attaches its ache to every aspect of your life. From the change of your heart’s composition to the hole it carves in your soul—it is noticeable and mighty. 

RELATED: The Day She Dies

As I reflect on the destruction of losing someone I love, I’m reminded of the denial and the glasses of hope that shaded my view of disease and death. I’m reminded of the light-filled glasses that altered the horror in front of me, clouding my view of pain and the realities of a forever absence. I’m reminded of those glasses, the ones that helped ease the ache by consistently providing hope and grace. 

Maybe those glasses of hope, the ones with lenses created with love and light and faith, maybe they are a gift.

Our loved one’s last gift, a treasure of love’s perspective. A gift that comes to shelter our minds from all that is to come. Maybe those light-filled glasses are purchased by the hearts of those leaving us. Maybe it’s their last act of love and comfort, to give us a view that mirrors theirs. One with concrete and determined faith and acceptance.  

Before slipping further, and look sicker, and finding finality, they silently slip invisible glasses with lenses of all they want for us:

Unending love.

Lasting comfort.

Passionate faith.

Consistent hope.

Light-filled guidance.

Protected paths of grief, paved with joy-filled remembrance.

RELATED: To Those Who Know the Bitter Hurt of Losing a Parent

They don’t want us to be destroyed by the devastating visions of death, so they cloud them with the special comfort only they could provide. The one they’ve given us our entire lives.

Their last gift—hope and love-filled lenses to assist in our journey.  

Once they’re gone, the glasses go with them. They don’t know that fact when they gift them, but they don’t need to. The key is in understanding their vision for our path, the one we must take without them. Understanding the lens they want us to view the future.  

They chose visions of love.

They chose visions of hope.

They chose visions of faith.

They chose visions of comfort and peace and light. 

RELATED: For As Long As We Love, We Grieve

If you look carefully, you’ll see them, even without the light-filled glasses. If you pay attention you’ll feel them, and if you’re willing and brave enough, you’ll start living with them, embedded deep within your soul. 

Who knew, it wasn’t denial after all, friends. It was the priceless gift of light-filled glasses with lenses of hope and peace and comfort. Oh, and love. Endless love. 

Originally published on the author’s blog

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

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

Order Now

Chelsea Ohlemiller

Wife, mother, and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is married to the love of her life and is the mother to three beautiful and spunky children. Chelsea’s mother always encouraged her to write. In 2017 when she tragically lost her mother to cancer she decided to honor her mother's wishes and write. It was one of the best decisions she's ever made. She know owns the website Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities, a space dedicated to encouraging others experiencing grief and loss. Website: www.hopeandharshrealities.com Instagram Handle: hopeandharshrealities Facebook: @hopeandharshrealities 

6 Things You Can Do Now to Help Kids Remember Their Grandparents

In: Grief, Living, Loss, Motherhood
Grandfather dances with granddaughter in kitchen

A month ago, my mom unexpectedly passed away. She was a vibrant 62-year-old grandma to my 4-year-old son who regularly exercised and ate healthy. Sure, she had some health scares—breast cancer and two previous brain aneurysms that had been operated on successfully—but we never expected her to never come home after her second surgery on a brain aneurysm. It has been devastating, to say the least, and as I comb through pictures and videos, I have gathered some tips for other parents of young kids to do right now in case the unexpected happens, and you’re left scrambling to never...

Keep Reading

I’m Not Ready for Life Without My Mom

In: Grief, Loss
Woman sad sitting by a window looking out

I’m not ready. Not ready for time to just keep trudging forward without her. Four years have gone by, and I still think about her every day. When that awful third day of October rules around every year it’s like a tidal wave comes and sweeps me up tossing me this way and that. The rest of the year I can bob up and down with the occasional waves of grief. But the week before October 3rd the waves pick up, and I can’t see over the crest of one before the next is already upon me. I find myself...

Keep Reading

Since She Left

In: Grief, Loss
Older, color photo of mother and young daughter blowing out birthday candles

It’s been 14 years since she left. It’s like a lifetime ago and yesterday at the same time. The loss of my mother was indescribable. We never had a traditional relationship. As I grew older, our roles were very much reversed, but even still, missing one’s mother (for lack of a better word) is hard . . . plain and simple. Sometimes I wonder, what is it exactly that I miss? Of course, I miss talking to her. I miss how she drove me crazy. I miss her baking. I miss hearing about her newest needlepoint. I miss when she...

Keep Reading

I Carried You for Just 17 Weeks but I’ll Hold You in My Heart Forever

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Ultrasound image of baby in second trimester

September 11 will be a date that is forever etched in my heart, not only because of its historical significance but because it’s the day I saw your lifeless little body on the ultrasound screen. I couldn’t hold back the sobs. My chest suddenly felt heavier than a ton of bricks. I’ve been here before. I’ve had losses, but none this late. I didn’t feel their movements or hear so many strong heartbeats at my checkups. Your siblings felt you move and squealed with utter excitement. I want to wake from this nightmare, but it seems it’s my new reality....

Keep Reading

To the Woman Longing to Become a Mother

In: Faith, Grief, Motherhood
Woman looking at pregnancy test with hand on her head and sad expression

To the woman who is struggling with infertility. To the woman who is staring at another pregnancy test with your flashlight or holding it up in the light, praying so hard that there will be even the faintest line. To the woman whose period showed up right on time. To the woman who is just ready to quit. I don’t know the details of your story. I don’t know what doctors have told you. I don’t know how long you have been trying. I don’t know how many tears you have shed. I don’t know if you have lost a...

Keep Reading

I Was There to Walk My Mother to Heaven

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Hand holding older woman's hand

I prayed to see my momma die. Please don’t click away yet or judge me harshly after five seconds. I prayed to see, to experience, to be in the room, to be a part of every last millisecond of my momma’s final days, final hours, and final moments here on Earth. You see, as a wife of a military man, I have always lived away from my family. I have missed many birthdays, celebrations, dinners, and important things. But my heart couldn’t miss this important moment. I live 12 hours away from the room in the house where my momma...

Keep Reading

To the Loss Mom Whose Tears Keep Her Company Tonight

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Sad woman sitting up in bed with head in hands

Three pregnancies in one year. Three first trimesters. Three moments of celebration . . . until they turned to moments of sorrow. I’m sure every woman who experiences pregnancy loss has the thought, “I never thought this would happen to me.” I truly never thought this would happen to me. I have two healthy boys—conceived easily, uncomplicated pregnancies, by-the-book deliveries. We even thought we were done having kids . . . until the pregnancy test was positive. That’s when my heart opened up to more children, and I realized I ached to carry more life. Raise more littles. Nurse more babies....

Keep Reading

Cowgirls Don’t Cry Unless the Horse They Loved Is Gone

In: Grief, Kids, Loss
Little girls Toy Story Jessie costume, color photo

The knee of my pants is wet and dirty. My yellow ring lays by the sink—it’s been my favorite ring for months. I bought it to match Bigfoot’s halter and the sunflowers by his pasture. Bigfoot is my daughter’s pony, and I loved him the most. The afternoon is so sunny. His hooves make the same calming rhythm I’ve come to love as I walk him out back. A strong wind blows through the barn. A stall labeled “Bigfoot,” adorned with a sunflower, hangs open and I feel sick. I kneel down by his side as he munches the grass....

Keep Reading

Supporting the Grievers in the Aftermath of Suicide

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Two people walking down tunnel with arms around each other

She was a devoted mother of two boys with her husband of 26 years.  With him, she owned a metallurgy company, ran a household, and in her spare time, produced tons of crafts by hand, most of which she sold. When her younger son was diagnosed with autism, she read everything she could find on the subject, volunteered, advocated for the autism community, and developed programs for autistic children. She spoke at the National Autism Conference and was co-authoring a book to help parents navigate an autism diagnosis. We marveled at her energy and enthusiasm. She was at every family...

Keep Reading

My Dad Remarried after My Mom Died, and as a Daughter It’s Bittersweet

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss
Older couple walking on beach holding hands

My dad ran off with a woman from California. When you put it like that, it sounds salacious and a faux pax, but the reality is a lot less interesting. My mom died of cancer at the cusp of my adulthood, leaving me and a gaggle of siblings behind. Six months later, my dad met a widow in California, connected with her, fell in love, and decided to move our family to California to be with her. Two years almost to the day after my mother died, my father married my stepmother. (I have photographic evidence of the event, I...

Keep Reading