Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: December 2020

It’s a wrap-Holidays 2020 Done!

December 28, 2020 /

We made it. I can’t say I’ve ever liked the hassle of the holidays.  There is too much of everything; food, wine, spending…I am sure that Christmas didn’t start out like this.  Leave it to us to make a spiritual holiday a commercial event. There always seems to be drama too. Who didn’t get invited, whose house, which day to be at is always difficult with blended families. The ban on gathering inside our homes caused more tension.  Friends, who we would always welcome into our home, this year, dropped their gifts at the door and left. It goes against my open door policy. The need to be together and share stories helps our grief. This season, because we were limited, I know, my grief was intensified.

Two of our friends, who lost their only child, dropped by with a book that Zane would love. It was a thoughtful gift, recognizing our son, and our pain, as they miss their own daughter.  I broke ‘the rule’ and hugged her. My heart ached for the emptiness I know she feels. I wanted to pull her daughter from the heavens and hand her back to her. There is nothing you can do or say to comfort this level of pain. And so I just hugged her.

This was our third holiday season without the happy go lucky boy of mine here to make the mashed potatoes and doubt we have enough gravy.  Zane loved gravy on everything, and lots of it, so a traditional gravy boat was not adequate. Our gravy boat is a massive Alice in Wonderland tea pot.  Used only for gravy.   This year I could not bring it out to use.

The first Christmas we were in shock, the second in disbelief.  This third year I am angry.  It’s time this cruel trick was over and he showed up, like physically showed up.  I am sick of pretending that I am ok. And so I brought the holidays in for my family to enjoy them and when it was over, I went to bed and took the next day off.

Alas. We made it.  May this holiday be a reminder, fellow grief warriors, of the incredible strength you have. Take a look at what this season demanded of you.  We prepared for a holiday, compromised by the current times.  We travelled through malls, saw TV ads, and had casual conversations about the season’s glitter and the merriment of it all. Something we might not feel but we nod anyways. With our heads held up and a smile on our brave face, we took on another Christmas without the physical presence of our beloved.  This courage, this strength to plod on facing the appalling reality we live with is something we do.  Perhaps this strength comes from the love we have for our missed one.  Perhaps it is a way to honor them; to represent them.  Perhaps it is their very essence that provides us with this incredible strength. (A topic for another day). But today, give yourself a yahoo, a pat on the back, a self hug, for managing this difficult time of year.

Holidays 2020, done. We made it. And together, we will face 2021 with that same strength.

Filling the Empty Chair

December 20, 2020 /

The holidays are here. It is a time of year when all messages are about  hearts coming home, being together, cheer and joy that becomes, to those grieving, a LOUD reminder that there sits ‘an empty chair’.   The pain is compounded when your loved one was born or passed this time of year.

This morning, friends from our grief community dropped by to bring us a piece of cake, napkins, chocolates, a sour candy cane and pictures of their sweet son.  Tomorrow he should be turning 27. I know they have planned this for the last while.  A distraction from the empty chair, they chose to create a celebration that had components of what would be happening if he was still living here on earth.

Celebrating what should be but cannot be isn’t easy.  It takes a lot of energy to which we have little or none. And how do we celebrate one that can no longer be physically here to enjoy it?  We do, by reminding ourselves that our children are still with us.  However you wish to define it; in spirit or energy or in your heart, our children are still with us. And keeping special occasions, including their favorites in your gatherings, is important.  I believe our children want us to celebrate them.  I believe it is a way to honor their life.  I believe it is a way to create space to remember them and the unique place they have in our lives.

I know, in the moments of planning a birthday sharing for their son, it brought my friends some comfort.  It created an opportunity for them to share stories about their son.  I now know sour candy is his favorite. I know blue is his favorite color. By creating a birthday remembrance for their son, and then sharing it with us, he is recognized and celebrated.   And that is good mourning.

Forever, I will speak your name

December 14, 2020 /

Yesterday was National Candle Lighting Day.  My on-line support groups blew up with pictures of loved ones no longer on earth.  I am always shocked at the number of children who have finished their journey here, too early and whose moving to another realm has left so many here, lost.

Our own support group gathered in a park.  Bundled to face the cold, cold weather, we huddled and shared how we were feeling with the upcoming holidays.  Covid was a big topic; how it has brought in the walls and the isolation heightens the loneliness of grief.  The ‘empty chair’ at Christmas was an acknowledgement; how this time is so different now. There were tears.  There was a nodding of agreement to the feelings shared.  We wish we didn’t know the people holding their candle and speaking their child’s name.  Oh how we wish we didn’t belong here.

But we do.  And as I looked around and listened to my fellow grief warriors, sharing with raw honesty, I also felt strength and love. This group gets me. This group walks the path I walk. Suddenly, I could feel the presence of our children.  Through speaking their names and sharing some of the reasons why their child loved this season, the chill of the evening seemed to melt away.

The hour together reminded me I am not alone.  And the hugs we shared reminded me I am loved. It also reminded me of the importance of human contact.  We must find ways to keep in touch.  It is essential for our mental health.

We reminded ourselves too, that we need to speak our loved one’s name.  Forever. We must honor them.  Forever.  And we did that by showing up and speaking about them and lighting a candle to send a message to the heaven’s, to our children.  You are loved.  Forever.  You are remembered.  Forever.

Zane, you will always be the light of my life. Forever.

Examining the ‘What Ifs’

December 6, 2020 /

This past week a neighbor lost her 36 year old daughter to a diabetic complication.  As we all do,  she is experiencing anger.  We want to blame something or someone for this terrible injustice.  She believes that if our current times were different, she would have been visiting her daughter more and would have been able to support her better, avoiding this outcome.  It is the beginning of her ‘what ifs’.

My ‘what ifs’ with Zane are long and complicated. What if I had listened to his fears more?  What if I had insisted he not go out? What if he had stayed there a little longer? What if I had sent him to school away from here? What if….and each time a ‘what if’ comes up, it brings with it a gut wrenching agony. 

 ‘What ifs’ are about examining what control we might have had and why we didn’t exercise it then that we might not be here now.  ‘What ifs’ are all about how things might have turned out differently.  The problem with ‘what ifs’ is that they can’t be answered. We don’t know.  We will never know. So the possible outcomes of the ‘what ifs’ only create regrets or exaggerate a regret we already had.  And regrets complicate grief.

So how do we stop the ‘what if’ scenarios that play over and over again?  I believe you can’t and I also believe that sometimes facing the pain of the ‘what ifs’ can bring a little healing.

Some ‘what ifs’ we face are about things we couldn’t control in the first place.  What if I had insisted he not go out?  He was 26; he would have called me cute and told me he was going. By facing this ‘what if’ and understanding this was never in my control, I can let it go.  I am so sad that he chose to go out that night, but why shouldn’t he have?  He was enjoying a beautiful night with a beautiful friend. If they hadn’t been killed, I would have wanted this night to happen for him.  There would have been no ‘what if’.

What if I had sent him to school?  I don’t know his life plan.  This ‘what if’ understanding is powerful.  Only God knows the plan and thus many of our ‘what ifs’ are known by God, the Universe, whatever your higher power belief is. So a bigger picture is in place; one that we don’t see or understand in our grief.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

I try not to soak in the ‘what ifs’ because there are no answers. If I do go there, I ask myself, do I know for certain that ‘what if’ would have kept him alive?  No.  My ego may think it can, but the truth is, I will never know. So I shift my thinking to what I do know. I think of all the things I did do, we did have and my mind begins to move on to more pleasant memories of our life together.

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