Chrissy Mafrige-Cogdell 7/25/22 Chrissy Mafrige-Cogdell 7/25/22

I Just Can’t Remember

I sincerely thought I was going crazy. Then this fear crept in. Since I thought I was losing my mind, I worried I would lose my memories

When Christopher died it felt like part of my brain died with him. I could not remember anything. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t recall words or read. I couldn’t pray.

The only thing I was proficient at was lament and tears. Since the tears never stopped I didn’t even bother wiping them from my face.

I did things like put my keys in the fridge and frozen food in the pantry. I looked for my reading glasses when they were on my face and my phone while I was talking on it. Ten trips back into the house to get something I forgot, like to put on deodorant or brush my teeth in some cases, became my new normal when I had to leave to go somewhere.

I found myself moving from one piece of furniture to the next accomplishing nothing and forgetting what I got up for in the first place. The next day was a repeat of the day before, if I possibly managed to get out of bed.

I sincerely thought I was going crazy. Then this fear crept in. Since I thought I was losing my mind, I worried I would lose my memories. It was all I had left of Christopher and I was terrified of forgetting.

Good news friends…First of all, you are not going crazy. You have what I like to call grief brain. Second of all, I didn’t forget and neither will you. In fact, those memories are more vivid than ever.

I love to share stories of my son with others and I love hearing stories others share with me.

Maybe you feel that way too! I would love to hear from you.

Much love,

Chrissy

If you would like to share a story of your child with me email it to info@firsttouchfamily.org

Chrissy Mafrige-Cogdell 5/6/22 Chrissy Mafrige-Cogdell 5/6/22

Pasta

I messaged my sweet friend Ms. Wesley and asked how she was doing. She knew exactly what I meant. I wasn’t looking for platitudes or “I’m fine”. She knew I truly wanted to know how she was handling the days, the minutes, the silence, the loss. See, she lost someone she loves very much and has been walking though her own complicated grief.

Her response resonated with me….

When you hear the word Italian food what comes to mind?

For me, it is pasta. Pasta heaped up on a plate with delicious sauce poured over the top and running down the “legs” of the pasta noodles. Heaps of cheese on top and the art of winding the noodles around the fork using a spoon to get just the right bite. Oh…and good wine. Preferably red.

When I was raising my kids on a very small budget, it meant comfort food, quick, easy, inexpensive and messy but delicious.

If I asked you what comes to mind when you hear the word Italian food, I wonder what the answer would be?

In the Italian culture pasta doesn’t just mean food. It means family time together. Older generations spend hours mixing, kneading, rolling and cutting out pasta dough. They pass on family traditions and spend quality time with each other making the pasta, then take their time to eat together.

A week or so ago, I messaged my sweet friend Ms. Weslie and asked how she was doing. She knew exactly what I meant. I wasn’t looking for platitudes or “I’m fine”. She knew I truly wanted to know how she was handling the days, the minutes, the silence, the loss. See, she lost someone she loves very much and has been walking though her own complicated grief.

Her reply was “I feel like a bowl of spaghetti with the noodles all going in different directions. I seek a path to follow.” I could feel and see her journey intimately.

Grief…like a bowl of spaghetti? I love it! I immediately could relate to her!

Spaghetti…It’s original form is linear, orderly, packaged neatly and the broken pieces in the box do not necessarily change the outcome of the dish. You cannot taste the pasta uncooked, it is not in it’s fully edible state or ready for consumption until it is dropped in boiling water.

Like pasta, we are not fully prepared for grief and then we are dropped in the boiling water of loss. How did we get here? The finished product a sticky, jumbled mess of emotion waiting in the strainer at the bottom of the sink.

Our grief spaghetti bowl looks like so many emotions entwined with all the other emotions. Some days we wind the spoon and joy is what holds the noodles together. Other times sadness, anger, numbness. We can cover it with fancy sauce, but the reality is, it is still there.

Sticky. Sometime stuck to other noodles, no clear path to take to get through the plate of healing.

Never forgetting, but leaning on the healing touch of Jesus and each other as we work through the tangled mess of spaghetti noodles that threaten to leave us stuck in a tangled emotion of grief.

Much love,

Chrissy

This post was inspired by my beautiful friend Ms. Weslie! Her vulnerability and light have helped all of us work toward healing.

Chrissy Mafrige-Cogdell 4/8/22 Chrissy Mafrige-Cogdell 4/8/22

Sprinkles of Tiny Miracles

We headed into the new year like most, with great anticipation of new beginnings, do overs, start overs. 2021 unfolded with a bang and then the wave threw us back into the desert of loss and heartache.

We had walked through this desert frequently over the past ten years. We knew the heat would feel intense and life would feel parched for a while. Then, all of a sudden…

We had walked through this desert frequently over the past ten years. We knew the heat would feel intense and life would feel parched for a while. Then, all of a sudden, the stars twinkled in the sky and cleansing rain poured down our face?

It was one of those moments where God reminds us that even in our brokenness, He is good. That even in the desert, He is present and hears our prayers. That regardless of our what our circumstance look or feel like, He desires to give us good gifts.

Since losing Ron and Chris, God has shown me over and over again, that there are always tiny miracles sprinkled in with the pain. The confusing, overwhelming, beautiful place where great joy and great grief collide.

In 2020, just as the world was shutting down from Covid, we lost a grandbaby. Our tiny human we never got to touch and hold was held first by Jesus, Udi, Grandma B, Papa, Uncle Chris and so many others who have gone on before us.

Grief consumed our kids and overwhelmed all of our hearts. A baby that will never be forgotten nor can it ever be replaced;

but then God…

Saw fit to sprinkle us with another tiny miracle. He gifted our family with life once more. A gift that was an answer to prayer.

The excitement of the call that we were expecting a new little miracle grand baby in 2022.

A baby we now know is a little boy and will carry the name Weston Blake Cogdell through his life.

We recently celebrated this sweet miracle with family and friends. Standing off to one side, I couldn’t help but feel God’s overwhelming grace and love. Not only have we been gifted with a new grandbaby, but we inherited a beautiful daughter-in-love and her gracious, big, fun, loving family.

We have had many other sprinkles of tiny miracles along the journey of grief and healing. This one happens to be one of my favorites. This one and another sweet miracle baby that made me a great-aunt. Kennedy Grace. I will tell you more about her soon! In the meantime, enjoy all this cuteness.