The Grandparent Connection

Twelve years ago, my first husband, Jason, died from a brain-stem tumor. As Jason's illness progressed, differences in opinion regarding surgical options and expressions of faith created a wedge between my in-laws and me. And as often happens in times of great loss, emotions ran high and relationships became messy.

A week after the memorial service, Jason's family gathered to celebrate a birthday. I had every intention of staying. But after five minutes in the room, I felt as though the walls were caving in. The family issues, now amplified by Jason's absence, seemed too much to bear. My two boys and I left the party and stayed away from Jason's family for an extended period of time. Part of me wanted to stay away forever.

Healing wounds

My persistent "mother-by-love," as she began calling herself, wouldn't leave things alone. Her nudges prevailed. After six weeks, I faced the fact that my boys needed to see Nana and Papa as much as Nana and Papa needed to see them. At 3 and 4 years old, my sons were oblivious to family strife and didn't need to experience more loss. I kept my distance but let the boys visit their grandparents once a week.

Three months later, when my husband's birthday drew near, I felt it was important to face that day with his family. Honoring his family was honoring his memory. We ate at his favorite Mexican restaurant. Then we gathered in my backyard to release 31 balloons — one for every year of Jason's life. As the balloons disappeared into the sky, I knew I needed to let my hurt and anger go as well.

But facing those emotions took time.

As summer turned to fall and the anniversary of Jason's death approached, I poured out my heart in a 10-page diatribe that ended with a simple reminder from Philippians 2:1-2. "If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose."

Those words brought a year's worth of heartache into focus. I had received comfort from God's love. Now, I was to pass it on. I was to offer the same love, fellowship, tenderness and compassion I had received. It was that simple.

Extending grace

Within the week, the Schreer clan gathered to celebrate my twin nephews' birthday. Their mom borrowed a large, round nylon parachute so we could play games in the backyard. Jason's sisters and their families circled around it with me and my boys. We all held tight to the giant cloth and waved it up and down. Balls bounced high. Kids ran free under and around the chute.

Everyone missed Jason — no one was unaffected by his passing. But just as we held tight to that parachute, our love for Jason connected us even more.

We still have our differences, but Nana and Papa are part of my sons' lives. Staying close to them creates a link to the past and access to memories my boys wouldn't have had otherwise. My in-laws have played a vital role in my children's lives. They are a piece of their father my boys greatly need.

Relationships can get uncomfortable when we face loss, but when we lose a spouse to death or divorce, it helps to remember that we're not the only ones who suffer. Our children experience the pain, and our in-laws are often placed in an uncomfortable position. While family dynamics can make it difficult to connect kids to a former spouse's parents, the relationship is still worth pursuing.

I recently sat in a dining room with Jason's mom and sisters after a wonderful holiday meal. Our lives have gone in various directions, but the commonality of our love for their only son and brother, the father of my children, remains a bond that cannot and should not be broken.