After Maddie died we received such an outpouring of generosity. Our friends set up a P.O. Box so people could send us cards. Well, it went way beyond cards, and we were sent some truly amazing, soul-touching things. In another example of how great our friends and family are, they went through everything we were sent in those first months. Not only would that have been a massive undertaking for us emotionally, it was also quite literally a massive undertaking as we were receiving hundreds of pieces of mail per week.
I am so grateful for the help we had going through everything, although there was a very large glitch in the system…mostly that there really wasn’t a system. Some people would open boxes, make sure they didn’t contain something crazy (there were a few…crazy…packages), and then leave everything untouched. Others would take everything out of the box and recycle the packaging. Notes were placed into piles, away from their corresponding trinkets. Long story short, several of the things we were sent were unlabeled, so when Mike and I were up to going through the things we’d been sent, we unfortunately had no idea where some of them had come from.
This has always been a huge source of embarrassment for me. I know that people didn’t send things expecting to get anything from me in return, but I wanted to send notes to the people who’d spent their time and money on us. I thought about writing a post about the things we’d been sent, but I was worried it would sound like we placed more value on the items and less on the notes, letters, comments, and emails, and that definitely wasn’t true. Basically, I paralyzed myself by over thinking it.
We’ve kept everything we were sent, and thanks to our loved ones, it’s all neatly organized. I have all the cards and letters, the pictures drawn by kids, dolls, pins, figurines, jewelry, etc, all tucked into a large, very special memory box. And just like I’m not always up for writing about Maddie, it’s not often that I have the emotional strength to go through the memory box regularly. However, just knowing it’s there is such a comfort. When I feel alone in my grief, I can simply look at the box and be reminded of the people who stood by us.
Earlier this week I received a friendly email from a reader, and she identified herself to me by naming something she’d sent to us after Maddie died. I instantly knew exactly what she was talking about: a tiny, beautiful silver baby shoe with Maddie’s initials and birthday engraved on the back. It’s been hanging on Maddie’s urn since the day I saw it, and I’d never known who’d sent it.
I literally look at and touch this charm every single day, so to be able to identify who’d sent it to me…I was so grateful. I emailed her back immediately.
I know I need to let go of the guilt I have over not being able to thank every person who reached out to us in those early months, but it’s hard, especially since the love sent our way was so profoundly important to us. I feel lucky that I was able to thank this woman, and only wish that I could thank the rest as well.
BeeBelle says:
Perhaps it will help (over time) to think about the value in not knowing where everything came from? That is, it becomes more of a tangible symbol of the love and support that is offered to you freely than just the stuff itself. Then, when moments come when a particular giver is revealed, that’s meaningful too.
Johanna says:
Beautifully said!
Susan says:
That’s a truly beautiful thought.
Suzy says:
Wonderful – I love this. I wish you had a like button on your comments because so often I want to agree with so many responses! No one with any altruism expected a thank you – they knew the pain you felt and just wanted to gig give you comfort – not guilt. Hugs!!!
Auntie_M says:
Yes! This!
Brittani says:
When our baby passed away, we had the same outpouring of gifts and letters. I went through them all and wrote thank you letters. Then, I was unable to actually send them. It felt like one more thing that I had to part with & I just couldn’t. I told everyone and they were very understanding. I have them in a box, but I haven’t been able to look at then since they were written 5 years ago.
Michelle says:
That made me tear up. So happy for you that such a significant gift got lined up with the sender.
Nellie says:
So precious and so touching in more ways than you can ever imagine.
Sending lots of love, peace, comfort and happiness your way…ALWAYS!!
MG says:
That is amazing. I thank these thoughtful people too, for doing things I’ve wanted to do but have never taken the initiative.
Amber says:
I had sent something (a bracelet that said “remember maddie” with purple beads) and in no way did I expect a thank you note. I do think acknowledging that you weren’t able to thank everyone properly by using this blog is well enough.
For myself I wanted to give you something as a fellow mother, person, and a complete stranger who felt compelled to remind you that she was a special person who will not be forgotten.
(If you ever did want to know the origins behind the gifts given perhaps post pictures of items, where the giver might be able to come forth and give a voice to the item & what it meant to them. Then on days/nights when it’s particular hard you would have the ability to see how much she meant to people from all over the world.)
judith says:
This post brought tears to my eyes.
I think Ambers suggestion is a good one
Trisha Vargas says:
Exactly! I too sent an item in those weeks after Maddie passed away. I just felt compelled as a mom myself, not knowing the Spohrs and just wanting to let them know that I was grieving for their sweet girl and that I would help keep her spark going.
Stephanie says:
I don’t want to sound pushy in giving advice on this, everyone deals with stress and guilt in their own way. It could help to think about it all as “the community”. Don’t worry about individuals and instead look at the whole. No one worth their salt is going to hold it against you that there wasn’t a filing system to identify what came from who. Just knowing that the sum of the support was, and is, a comfort to you is thanks enough.
Auntie_M says:
I agree…while it is wonderfully sweet and thoughtful of each individual, it is also true that you do have a community standing behind and beside you…yup, basically we have you surrounded!
However, seeing as that charm is so significant as it hangs in such a special location, I can see why it is so very special to connect with the giver! What a lovely thoughtful and unusual gift she gave…how very special it is. What a loving tribute to your beautiful Maddie.
Glenda says:
Amazing… That’s a beautiful charm! May peace & strength build you up on the tough days.
Giselle says:
That’s a heartwarming story. And what a previous necklace.
I know this won’t change anything, but I think every one that reads your blog knows how much everyone’s support and love and thoughtfulness means to you. You’ve mentioned it in passing many times. I know you don’t feel like you have thanked everyone bc you haven’t been able to do it individually, but just hearing your stories and how these gifts bring you a bit of comfort is more than enough thanks.
Jess says:
I had made a purple bracelet with a music note and sent it in, and in NO WAY did I ever expect a letter, email, or recognition from you. And I’m sure the majority of your readers feel the same way.
I’m not someone who does something for the acknowledgement. I do it to make the other person feel better and feel loved, even if for a brief moment. So to know you have my token of love and card still, that means something. I don’t need a thank you.
Nicole says:
I wasn’t a reader when you guys lost Maddie but I think about her everytime I see the color purple.
Joelle says:
after we lost our baby people sent us beautiful things too but i never wrote thank yous either. i just COULDN’T thank people for something because my baby died. i’ve always felt a little uneasy about that, too, but then i think that all the people that sent something probably know the difficult time it was…at least that’s what i’m hoping.
Auntie_M says:
Yes, of course. Anyone who has any sense and sense of love does! I am the aunt of a sweet nephew who passed away and still feel guilt for not sending notes to my friends who reached out to my brother & SIL after he passed, til one of them asked me why on earth would I do such a thing as none of them expected it. They did what they did out of love.
Lora says:
Beautiful. How special to finally know the person who sent such a precious gift!!
Jeanie says:
What a wonderful, thoughtful gift. I’m so glad you discovered who sent it.
RzDrms says:
I think gifts and things done for any bereaved person should not be acknowledged by thank-you cards, nor should they ever be expected. A very simple face-to-face (or text, or over-the-phone) “thank you” should more than suffice.
For cases like this where many items are from people you’ve never met but who “know” you from this blog, I think a general thank-you from your blog (like this and many other posts), or a brief email if you can and know from whom gifts were received, is more than anyone should expect. You are *grieving*; receiving gifts should never *compound* your loss by adding a burden (in this case) of needing to send people thank-you notes.
Your gift to the world is Maddie, and her stories and memories that follow her. Our gifts are repayment for that, for support, for solidarity, for strength, for hope, for love. Never, ever to add to your sadness. We can never thank you enough for sharing her with us all.
Auntie_M says:
I agree! 100%
Auntie_M says:
I can totally understand why learning who sent that charm was so touching and important, but I agree with those who have said that your support community absolutely did not expect thank you notes or acknowledgement from you during your initial time of grief or ever.
However, if anyone is worried that you didn’t receive a gift they sent, I’m sure that by now they would have contacted you and described the gift.
And if people want to reach out to you and make a personal connection via describing the gift they sent, they now know they can do so via email, but know they aren’t doing it to receive kudos from you, or special acknowledgement on your blog, but simply to put your mind at ease, such as in the comments above.
You have enough on your plate without carrying misplaced and unneeded guilt. Though it’s very sweet and shows that you had a very proper up-bringing (as my grandmother would have said! LOL…one time she actually sent me a thank you note for a thank you note I’d sent: that can be a vicious cycle!)
Just remember when you look at those cards or anonymous gifts that you are surrounded by people who love & care for you even if they haven’t personally met you (and I mean that in the most non-creepy way possible!)
xoxo
Jerilynn says:
People who reach out to you with letters or items to show that they are thinking of you are definitely not looking for anything in return. I had made a donation to a fund in memory of a co-worker’s deceased father. I visited him in his office when he returned from bereavement leave to see how he was holding up and to see if I could do anything to make the transition to work easier. He mentioned, in a sheepish way, that he appreciated the donation and meant to write me a note. I cringed thinking that this person, who had so much on his plate, was worried about a thank-you note! Needless to say, those who reached out to you feel the same way. Comfort is meant to be just that: a comfort, not a burden. Put these thoughts out of your mind.
Kathy says:
We, too, received some anonymous gifts after the death of our son. Some funeral flowers with no cards, beautiful wind chimes with no card enclosed, etc. I would take a picture of the item and post it on Facebook with a “Thank you anonymous friend” comment. Sometimes it would solve the mystery, other times, not. I have greater understanding now for people who take forever…if ever…to send thank you notes in response to bereavement cards or gifts, etc. It can be so difficult to respond to the kindness you receive, for so many reasons. I found you via the Huff Post article about marriage surviving the death of a child.