Care Package I Received

Author: Alyice Edrich

Six years ago, my daughter died in an untimely and stupid accident. I was beside myself with grief, anger, guilt and shame. It was a devastation like none I had ever experienced before and something I could not lightly get over. I couldn’t lift a finger to care for my other children, to take care of funeral arrangements, to offer support to my spouse, or to care for myself. It was as if, for a time, I, too, had died.

The most important thing I needed when I suffered my loss was time to “just grieve.” I needed time to do nothing more than cry and deal with the great loss I had suffered. I couldn’t think about anything else but what I had lost and what would never be.

Outside my home, life was still going on and I couldn’t bear facing that. It made me angrier than I had ever been in my life. I didn’t know how to function and I didn’t understand how life could just go on. I wanted to give up on life, I wanted others to feel what I felt, and I didn’t want to be alone in this pain—and yet, I felt all alone.

Then the care packages arrived. My church, my town and several family members came to my aide. Without asking they reached out to me in unexpected and much needed ways. I will never forget their kindness or their compassion. They were a true testament of God’s abiding grace.

The truth is: Grieving people do not know to ask for help. They can’t think past the pain. They need someone to step up to the plate and just do—do whatever needs to be done, no questions asked.

If you’re looking for ways to help or encourage a grief-stricken person, I encourage you to listen, observe, and have a little patience. What is truly needed will be shown to you and when it is, just reach out, in your own way, and offer a little grace.

The following is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the remarkable amount of support I received after my daughter passed away. And every single bit of it has allowed me to heal and move forward:

Small groups within my church got together and provided dinners and a nightly prayer, for my family, for an entire two months.
My Pastor, with the help of my mother and sister-in-law, took care of all the funeral arrangements.
My mother came to live with us for a few months, taking care of the home, shopping, bill payments, and my children.
My sister took my children the first week—to care for them when I couldn’t.
A friend came every Friday to take my children to the park while another picked them up every day and took them to school. This lasted for six months.
One lady took it upon herself to send anonymous letters and hand-made cards of encouragement and hope while strangers from all over sent cards of sympathy and empathy. (Oh, how I looked forward to those cards—to know someone really cared, that someone acknowledged our pain.)
My half-sister came from Missouri for the funeral, but she was the only one who, after two days of not eating, could get me to eat.
A friend came, every other day, just to sit on my bed and watch movies with me. She never offered advice, and never told me it was time to move on. She really didn’t say much of anything. She just sat there letting me know that if I needed someone to reach out to, she was there.
My pastor came every day for the first few weeks, just to check in on us. He would remind me that God loved us and that he was praying for us. He never said much, he did more listening. But one day really stands out. He looked directly into my eyes and said, “It looks as though a dark cloud as been removed from over your head.” It was then, that I realized, I was moving on with my grief and accepting my loss.
A local counselor came to our home, every day, to listen and get us to talk about our loss and what we were feeling. After awhile, when he felt we were strong enough, he asked us to meet him once a week in his office.
One lady left a framed picture of Jesus holding a baby, just to show she cared while another made a fake flower arrangement. She came with the flowers and simply said, “I heard about your loss, I just had to do something and I didn’t know what to do since I don’t know you. But my daughter does, and so, I made you this.”
An anonymous person left a note on my door, which said that flowers had been planted in the park behind my house, in remembrance of my child.
A local author, and her husband, came and sat with my husband and I when she heard the news of our loss. She gave us a copy of her book, Roses In December, which dealt with grief and invited us to a local Grief Support Group.
A local singer gave me a plaque that read, “God will mend your heart, if you give him all the pieces.” The plaque reminds me, when things get tough, that I haven’t given God all the pieces.
And finally, I received a lot of forgiveness and compassion. In my grief, I was angry and misdirected that anger towards many loved ones, strangers, and friends. They have all since, accepted my apologies and extended their hands of forgiveness by simply stating, “I understand you were grieving.”

Years later, I have improved and grown in my grief, but there are still moments when I simply feel a deep sense of loss and loneliness over the loss of my daughter—and just recently my mother. It is then, that I withdrawal from my loved ones and it is then, that they have learned to push back and reach out. What a great comfort it is, to still be able to talk about the child I loved, to remember the good times, and to be allowed to still share the pain her loss has left on my life.