What I need you to know.

Things your grieving mama friend needs you to know:

• I love hearing stories and memories of Hudson. I talk about him as much as I can (in appropriate conversation) because that’s the way I’m able to keep his memory alive. So feel free to do the same! Don’t ever shy away from speaking about him to me, sharing funny stories or memories of him. (Aside from the day he left us. I have no desire to talk about that. I’m making peace with the fact that he’s gone, but know it will be a long time until I make peace with the "how.")

• On that same note, your friend/relative/coworker/acquaintance Melissa is still the same person, albeit with a whole new perspective on life. I promise you, there is nothing you can say to me that would be wrong or offend me. I know it’s weird.. And I’m recognizing it! Don’t feel the need to sensor yourself with me. I still really like to laugh!

• I will not let Hudson’s death define my life. Loving him? Absolutely. And I want to live that out in my days.

• If you invite me to do things and I never get back with you, ask for a rain check, simply decline.. Know that it isn’t you! I’ve been dealing with things more insularly, whereas Denver loves to be surrounded by others.

• I have a little bit more of a pessimistic view about life (surprise surprise!) and have a hard time when people have petty complaints. Lord knows no one’s life is perfect. (Mine sure as heck wasn’t when Hudson was here either!) But perspective, my friends. I know it sucks to take time off your work when your kids have been exposed to Covid, but try being thankful for that time with them. And those crying kids in the middle of the night? What I wouldn’t give for one more of Hudson’s rare nightmares when I’d climb in his bed with him to make sure he felt safe. (And always fell asleep with him!)

• This is a hard one. I’ve seen the scariest and most terrifying thing any parent could ever see. Things that would give anyone nightmares. Please understand that ambulances, fire trucks, and sirens are especially jarring. PTSD is real. And that dang red Fire Marshall Tahoe? I remember that he was the person I had to keep looking for because that’s who would tell me news about Hudson. I Good news that never came. That I found out in a cold hospital meeting room from the most insensitive doctor I’ve ever come across. (And I’ve worked with some of the most amazing doctors over the years.)

• I don’t always want to be “okay.” And I urge everyone of you to be the same. I’ve found I’m much more authentic now. I’ll burst out crying in the middle of Kroger.. oh well!

• I’m working hard to trust this journey. I trust that God has a plan that’s way bigger than mine. Although I’ll never understand why he put me on what feels like a near impossible path in life. I think it’s true that you never know how strong you are until you have no choice. There’s not another option for me.

• So many people have said “I can’t imagine…” And you can’t. You truly can’t and I would never want anyone else to understand, feel this pain, have the nightmares, etc. However terrible you think it may be, multiply that by about a billion. It is truly hell on earth to be without him. Please remember that.. And share your grace. There are MANY days where I just don’t want to get up, let alone try.

In the meantime, I ask for you to continue to pray for Denver, myself, and Caroline. It dawned on me the other day that Caroline’s memories of him will be so limited. We try to talk about him all the time to her. I pray that it’s enough.